Page 65 of Hiding from Hope

“Do you see her much?” Rosie shrugs at my question.

“We speak when I’m at the bar, which is rare recently. She’s quiet. I’ve been trying to get her out more because she looks… I can’t really put my finger on it, but I think she might need some girls.” I nod, finally getting my mind off of the lumberjack. Rosie’s instincts never usually miss anything. If she’s picked up on something, I’d say there was something to pick up on.

“Well, why don’t we go out, just us girls? You, me, Addy, and Stella?” Because if she needs a girls’ night, I’d help give her one.

“Casey, you wouldn’t be making a plan to dedicate your birthday to save someone else… would you?” Rosie accuses, and I roll my eyes, downing the remaining wine in my glass.

“Give me a break. You’re the one who said she needed people.”

“Yeah, and you have a habit of forsaking everything for everyone else.” I shrug, hating how wine makes me so emotional and tired. I need something harder. Like gin.

“I’m fine, Rosie. I look after myself just fine.” I try to pull a playful smile. She narrows her eyes at me for a split second before she shifts her attention to her wine glass.

“So, how’s the dull dick going?” I question, turning the conversation to something less morbid. She responds by laughing, her head thrown back to the couch, before her attention is back on me, that playful lightness of hers that makes me feel warm.

“Not so dull, thank fuck. But I bought myself a new companion.” She hits me with her wiggly eyebrows, which makes me chuckle.

“Oh?”

“Her name is Vivienne, and she treats me really, really well.” This has me giggling, and as I get up to grab another bottle of wine from the kitchen, she clarifies, “She’s purple and soft, long enough to please, wide enough to satisfy, and has just the right amount of bumps in all the right places.” As I make my way back to the couch, Rosie’s head lies on the back of it, a gentle smile as she speaks wistfully. I lean over the back, looking down at her pretty golden face, refilling her wine glass, and her big chocolate eyes open, her trademark playfulness staring straight back at me.

“You named your new vibrator Vivienne?” I say through a chuckle.

“Well, I didn’t want to give her the name of someone who I knew in real life. That would be weird. How many Vivienne’s do you know?”

“Fair point.” I sit back down and pull my knees to my chest as I settle back into the couch. “So Vivienne has replaced the dull dick?”

“Mmm. Sometimes. It’s just hard to find anyone good, you know?” I nod and she continues. “Like, someone who just… you know?” She looks out to the window and struggles to find her words, but somehow, I just know exactly what she is talking about

“Someone who can choke you but tell you you’re pretty,” I whisper–I thought–to myself. Rosie’s mouth drops open, and she shoots up to a sitting position as her eyes bug out. I try to shrink under the blanket while chuckling at the embarrassing confession, but Rosie is ripping the blanket away from my face.

“Casey. Moira. Baker.” The demand I know that it is. She wants details.

I peek my eyes open to find her agape mouth pulling into a wide opened smile, and she starts slapping my thigh.

“Tell me. Tell me. Tell me!” she shouts excitedly.

“Jessie—” She gasps, covering her mouth before she squeals and giggles, then starts slapping my thigh again.

“We… kinda—”

“Fucked roughly with gentle aftercare?!” she guesses, and a loud laugh bursts from me. When I recover, I nod.

“Literally, exactly that.” I close my eyes and mimic her previous position, my head fallen back to the couch and remembering the feel of Jessie’s rough hands around my throat. The same rough hands that gently massaged my body in the shower after. That magic mouth that said he wanted me.

But can’t tell you what any of it means.

The same Jessie that just left me on read after I said I missed him.

That thought has me sitting up and frowning. Rosie sobers enough from her excited rambling I hadn’t paid attention to, to notice my expression and she scooches closer.

“What’s the look?” She tilts her head questioning, and I sip my wine, shrugging in response.

“I don’t really know what I’m doing,” I mumble.

“What’s there to know?”

“I’m going to fall for him, Rosie. I think I already am.”

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