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I nod, biting my lip as I wait for disgust to shadow his handsome face.

Surprisingly, his expression doesn’t change. “Were you scared?”

“When it happened, yes. But in my mind, it’s…different. I’m not afraid at all,” I confess quietly, shame slithering over me.

“It made you feel good?”

I pinch my eyes tightly shut, instead of blocking out Bry’s reaction, I’m watching the sharp tool slide into Peter’s neck. The pained surprise washing across his face. The blood trailing from his mouth.

“I feel glad,” I say, completely ashamed by my ease of watching someone else be hurt in such a cruel way.

The idea of any animal being hurt like that tears me apart inside; it claws at me to take action, to ease their suffering and help them. I would do whatever I could to prevent an animal from being in pain. Yet nothing could’ve persuaded me to step in and fight for Peter. Nothing could’ve dragged me over to him and compelled me to cover his wounds to stop him bleeding out. I could lie and say it’s because I was scared of what his killer might’ve done to me, but that’s not completely true. Even if she hadn’t been there…I think I still would’ve walked away.

“You don’t need to feel guilty for that, Rosy,” he coaxes, his understanding blue eyes almost black in the dark space. “It’s a messy emotion, and one that can drown us if we let it. You can’t hold on to guilt for things you can’t control, or for things that other people have done.”

“You make that sound easy.” I huff.

His eyes crinkle at the edges as his hand squeezes my hip reassuringly. “It’s not at all. I still feel guilt, even from when I was a kid, for things that were definitely not in my control. But not every day,” he reveals.

With our words still hushed between us, it’s as though we’re whispering secrets, ones that only we share.

“There’s nothing about what you went through that should make you feel guilty, not even a little,” I promise him quietly.

“Thank you,” he murmurs and leans in, placing a light kiss on my lips.

There is still something I haven’t shared with him, even after he said three beautiful words to me so easily.

“Bry?” At his soft nod, I suck in a breath. “You said something a while ago, and I didn’t say it back. It’s not that I didn’t feel it, because I very much do, but there’s been a lot of darkness in my thoughts. And I couldn’t say it to you because I was afraid of dragging you down with me. Of tainting what was between us.”

I stop, running out of both words and oxygen. I fix my gaze on the side of his face, all too aware and embarrassed that nothing I said made sense. It probably sounded like a bad excuse.

“Rosy, there wasn’t any expectation for you to reciprocate. There still isn’t. I said I love you because it’s how I feel. That’s it.” His fingers leave my hip, tracing across my cheekbone and down my jaw to my chin.

“But I do love you,” I whisper.

I don’t miss the way he stops breathing, nor the way his eyes drop closed, and he smiles. It’s wide and happy. I want to fall headfirst into this moment and never forget it. Because even though it’s been one of the worst days of my life, it still ended with confessions of love and the comfort of unequivocal support.

It reminds me that no matter how deep the dark thoughts are, or how hard the days ahead will be both physically and mentally, I’ll heal and survive. Every person in this room with me, every one of the men I’ve fallen in love with, will be by my side through it all.

Because they love me, for me.

SIXTY-NINE

ROSY

3 MONTHS LATER

“Ouch!” I huff, shaking out my singed finger. I grab the strand of hair again and re-wrap it around the curling iron.

Max chuckles as he walks into the bedroom, then drops onto the bed behind me.

“Do I want to know what you’ve done now?” I ask, rolling my eyes.

He’s so playful, always making me laugh, but it’s not often shared by the others. Especially not when they’re on the receiving end of whatever he’s done.

Nate went to walk out of his room the other day and instead hit a wall of plastic wrap. His face had turned red, and he’d rammed his shoulder straight through it before stomping over to Max, who’d scrambled over me to weave around the flat to dodge him.

Another time, Max had gotten into Bry’s tablet and changed his password. After numerous failed guesses and arguing, Max took pity and confessed it was ‘IEATROSYFORBREAKFAST’.