Page 105 of Whispered Promises

“What about when they’ve come up to the rescue to help?”

“It’s special, because they’re giving up their time to spend with me and the animals.”

“Okay, and when you see any of them?”

“I never want to leave.”

“And when you aren’t with them?”

“Hollow.” That one sends a pang to my chest, because I feel it now. Even though I’m hurt and angry, I still miss them.

“Hm-mm…well, it sounds like you have a case of the feels. Its official term is called ‘in love.’ Sadly, there’s no cure for it.”

“You know, I’m hanging up now. Say hi to Faye from me!” I yell, because I need to vacate this conversation.

I’m not in love. A crush, that’s what this is. I’m heavily crushing on them. They’ve got me hooked on the orgasms. And the food.

“She’ll be back any minute, so I’ll give her a good, thorough hello⁠—”

“Nope! You're the worst,” I groan, hanging up on the sound of her laughing. But she’s made me feel better and pulled me out of my head. Even if I’m still dreading going back to work tomorrow, at least it’s Friday.

FORTY-TWO

NATE

Seeing Rosy’s car, I pull my van to a stop beside it. I’m undecided whether I should’ve come or not. The others said she needed space. But how much? For how long? She didn’t come to the gym last night or to dinner. Fucking hated it.

What does “space” even mean? I’ll follow her but stay a few steps behind; that’s enough space.

As I walk through the wooden gate, I pause, unsure where to look for her. Movement catches my eye.

Rosy.

She steps out from a building on my left, a striped cat trailing her. They all seem to flock to her. They don’t have to give her space. I walk towards her, and her head turns. Her body’s relaxed, and her smile’s easy and bright as she waits for me to reach her.

Is she…not angry anymore? Fuck, I don’t know if I need to proceed with caution or if she’s genuinely forgiven us for the other night.

It’s obvious I’m the only one on edge right now.

“For you.” I thrust a bag at her, then wait a painful moment as she stares at me. The skin around her eyes tightens, and doubt kicks in.

Did I not do it right? Gifts always worked in the past when my mother was disappointed. Maybe not ideal to compare Rosy to someone I cut out of my life years ago.

Fuck. Should I have done something else?

Just as I start to pull my arm back, she grasps my wrist. Her hand barely fits around it. She’s small, fragile in comparison. But she’s the one who has me at her feet, at her back, or wherever the fuck she wants me. Just as long as she doesn’t ask me to leave.

Unable to hold it in anymore, words come rushing out. “Dinner Thursday. I’m—fuck. I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to push you or piss you off. Just hard not to care…”

Her hand, warm and small, settles on my other arm, and I pause, lost mid-sentence. She’s so in my fucking head; I never want her to leave.

“It’s okay, Nate. I’m sorry for snapping at you all, because I know you were just trying to look out for me. I do really appreciate it. I guess I’m not used to it.”

Her hand slides down, and she links her fingers with mine. It takes a minute for me to tear my gaze from them and look back up at her face, a face I dream about. Think about.

“I just…this job is important, Nate. So when Max risked that, I panicked. I need you all to trust that I can handle this. It’s my decision to work there.”

Wide grey eyes stare into mine, and her words slice at the organ behind my ribs. Fucking hurts, because I can understand. She wants me to understand and trust that she knows what’s best for herself.