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“She’s been quiet today. She was in Nate’s room for her therapy and didn’t come out until I knocked and offered her a late lunch. She’s been distracted reading ever since,” he muses, worry creasing his brow.

My heart sinks at his update. Did something happen before we spoke that I didn’t pick up on? Or was it something I said?

“Okay, I’ll talk to her.” I nod, giving his shoulder a squeeze.

“She’s sinking, Noah. What do we do if she gets deeper and deeper into this dark hole, and nothing we do or say helps?” he whispers frantically, his shoulders slumping lower.

“No.” It comes out sharply. My exhausted patience swirls with fear. He flinches.

“No,” I try again, softer. “We have to hope that doesn’t happen, and we’re not giving up on her,” I say, ignoring the burning sensation in my chest at the idea that Bry might be right. That she might keep pulling further and further away, and none of us are enough to stop it.

“I need you to be right,” he croaks, turning his back. No doubt to distract himself from his thoughts by immersing himself in his baking.

So do I.

I make my way over to Rosy and settle on the end sofa seat where her feet rest. She doesn’t notice or look up from her reading, and it gives me a moment to watch her. The unfettered access lets me see the tightness in her brow and the purplish hue beneath her eyes, neither of which I can erase for her.

My hands cup her feet and pull them onto my lap. She jumps at the contact, her eyes wide as her focus lands on me, then she tugs out her earphones.

“I didn’t mean to make you jump,” I apologise, lightly stroking a line up the tops of her feet to her ankles and back.

“It’s my usual response to everything.” She sighs, a small smile tugging on the corner of her mouth.

“Did you want to finish our earlier conversation? And discuss anything else on your mind?”

Rosy glances down, her lower lip disappearing between her teeth as she worries it.

“There’s no pressure to,” I add, squeezing her leg gently. “I know we had to cut it short earlier, and I felt bad that we didn’t get to finish it.”

“Yeah, okay. Would we be able to do it somewhere private?” she asks.

My brows rise at the request. I don’t mind having her company to myself, but what is it she wants to say that would need privacy?

We enter my room, and I shut the door softly behind us. Rosy hovers, hands twisting in the long sleeves of her oversized sweatshirt.

“You’re welcome to take a seat,” I offer, watching as she looks between the chair at my desk and the bed. After another moment, she sits on the bed, folding her legs under her. It’s not a move I’m flexible enough to mirror, so I choose to keep my feet firmly on the ground as I join her.

“What I was⁠—”

“I wanted to⁠—”

We both start at the same time. I smile as she blushes, and we both apologise.

“You first, please?” she asks, before glancing down at her lap.

My hand reaches out, encircling her jaw as I pull her face back around to mine.

“I can go first if you want me to. Maybe it will help some of your worry, because I know our conversation ended abruptly earlier,” I start, trying to ignore the way her mouth parts slightly. “When you said earlier that you’re struggling to believe I care about you?”

Her finger prods at my chest. “In here, I know you care about me.”

My brows pull tight, as I try to understand what she’s telling me. “Of course I do. Where do you think I don’t?”

Eyes sliding to the side, her cheeks flush in my grip. “Um. On the outside?”

“You don’t think I care about…your outside? You mean physically?”

“Maybe?” She squirms a little, her blushed skin somehow turning brighter.