Page 24
“N-Nate?” Rosy croaks, her eyes blinking open, forehead creasing as she tries to focus on him. “Did you really come?”
Her hand lifts shakily to his face, and a sob breaks free when she makes contact.
“Always, little tease.” He blinks quickly, and watching him struggle rouses a small flicker of emotion beneath all the self-deprecating despair. Other than grumpiness and anger, you rarely see other emotions come from him. He’s just…Nate.
“You need to get out,” Bry urges. “Noah is struggling to keep Peter’s attention.”
“Max will carry you. We need to move quickly,” Nate tells Rosy, pressing a kiss to her temple and standing. His stance is rigid, hands fisting at his sides as he breathes heavily.
“I-I can’t. You should be the one to carry her.” My head shakes violently as I step away. My back hits the dresser doors behind me, but the pain from it is barely noticeable. He needs to understand that I’m not worthy of her. Every bruise, every cut that draws my eye to her…is my fault.
Gritting his teeth, he drags his gaze to focus on me, all but growling. “The plan’s all changed now. I need to be ready if he comes up here. Can’t fucking do that if I’m holding her. So shut the fuck up and get your shit together.”
Scrubbing a hand roughly down my face, my eyes fall closed, and I nod softly. I know I should be raging like Nate. Instead it’s as though I’m looking at the heart that’s been ripped from my chest, beaten, abused, and now lying hurt on the bed.
Because that’s what Rosy is, my heart.
And I’ve done nothing but hurt it.
“Sorry, honeybee. I need to move you, and it might hurt.” Swallowing thickly, I gently slide my arms under her back and knees, lifting and cradling her to my chest.
She inhales sharply but doesn’t say anything else.
“Wait. Nate, can you drape your jacket over Rosy?” I rasp, blinking quickly through thick moisture.
He grunts in agreement, shucking off his jacket quickly, then gently tucks it around her. He might be teeming with blustery rage, but for her, he’s always soft. “We need to leave. Now.”
“Fuck.” Noah swearing has my footsteps stuttering. It’s rare that he ever curses. “Peter caught on. Grabbed my earbud. He could hear you, and he bolted.”
“Should’ve stopped him!” Nate exclaims. His outburst makes Rosy flinch. “Bring the truck down the back. Don’t need to be quiet. We have her. That’s all that matters.”
“I would have, but he knocked me down with his laptop and left his office. Luckily, I have my other earbud, but he’s still got the other. I’ll see if I can find him. You get Rosy out.”
“You okay, Noah? We can leave it to the police. Don’t risk it if you’re hurt,” Bry says.
I follow Nate quickly, shuffling sideways through the doorway so she doesn’t get knocked. The movement jostles Rosy’s fragile body, and I try to even out my pace to avoid rocking her too much. She shifts against me, her breath puffing warmly against my neck.
“Maxi…” Her voice cracks, even at the low whisper, and my heart clenches. It shouldn’t be my name on her lips; it should be any one of them but not mine.
“Shh, it’s okay, honeybee. We’ve got you.” Placing a fleeting kiss on the crown of her head, I relish the moment, knowing that it’s the last time before she knows how I betrayed her. The part I played in keeping her locked up in there by not trusting her. My chest is tight as we hurry down the hallway, back towards the door leading to the stairway.
Stepping down the last of the stairs, I turn quickly, moving down and out the back door we came through. The cold air whips against us, so I tuck her in closer as we make our way across the terrace and out the gate. Reaching the truck, Nate pulls open the back passenger door, and I slowly slide in, not wanting to jostle her any further.
“Rosy.” Bry’s voice breaks, his body twisted in the driver’s seat as he stares. “W-what happened to her?”
Nate gets in behind me, gently lifting her legs and resting them over his. “Just fucking go, Bry. We need to get her to the hospital.”
Rosy sucks in a choked breath, her arm flopping to her side. “No…n-no hospital. No, no, p-please.”
“We need to take you—” Bry’s cut off as Rosy starts fretting in my lap, her head shaking clumsily.
“I want to go home, please. I-I need to be home.” Her body wracks around her sobs, her pleas desperate.
“Shh, okay. No hospitals, okay. We won’t take you there tonight,” I promise, rocking her softly in my lap. It’s crazy not to take her, I know this. But I can’t bring myself to force her, to push her into doing something she’s petrified to do.
“Home, home, home,” she mumbles repeatedly, and my hand shakes as I stroke her hair back. It’s loose and tangled, a deeper brown around her temples from sweat, so I’m careful not to snag the knots.
“We can go home. We’ll take you home, honeybee.”
