Page 12 of Cuts Like an Angel: Part 2

She made her way to his room and opened the door, her stomach clenching at the sight. Stepping in and kicking the door shut behind her, she looked around. What he’d done downstairs was even more evident in his bedroom. Things were exactly the way they'd been when she left. Only tidy. And probably clean, down to her clothes she’d left on the floor near the closet. It must’ve practically driven him crazy to leave them in that crumpled heap. That whole idea that he even needed to leave it that way made her sad. But why exactly? Did he do it because he feared she’d never return? And yet… she looked around, warmth making her heart swell. To think he loved her that much… tears welled in her eyes. It was hard not to feel good, sick as it was.

Had he not lived an ounce while she was gone? The idea he'd been there alone, stuck in a private hell the whole time, made her sick and weak-kneed.

She spun at a sound behind her. "Hey," she said happily, as she set the suitcases down. "Everything okay?" Shit, she'd meant to make small talk. A phone call was usually small talk, but with him, it could be the opposite.

Especially with that … Maria person. She watched him slowly make his way in, looking around the room. Avoiding her gaze. Her heart hammered in her chest. Maybe he would tell her, about the other woman.

"I've got to go out for a bit," he said, finally meeting her gaze for a split second.

"Oh?" Pain hit her stomach as she fought her need to know the truth and her need to make him feel safe enough with her to be honest. "Anything I can do?"

"That was Carly.”

Carly. Right. The other woman who helps him sometimes. Rosie fought the burning possessive jealousy to be the only woman to fix all his boo-boos.

"It's good you have friends," she said, smiling.

He stood a couple feet away and put his hands in his pockets. "She's my therapist," he mumbled, almost reminding her of a guilty little boy.

Therapist. That was all, just a therapist. "I'm thrilled you have her." She stalled, feeling like anything she'd say would sound wrong.

"I need to go to the store."

"I can come," Rosie said, happy to get busy doing something together.

"You can unpack I was thinking. It's just a few things I need to get. Personal," he added.

"Oh, okay," she said, wondering what personal things he needed. Maybe medicine or something. "I can definitely unpack and tidy up here."

"Just unpack, and I’ll clean."

"Sure," she said, hurrying to her suitcase to prove she was ready and happy to not go with him. "I'll cook us up something, too?" she said, unzipping her bag.

"I can cook for you when I return?"

She wished he didn't sound desperate to make it up to her; it made her think he was doing something wrong. "I would love that!" she said, ignoring her feelings and giving him a big smile to assure him. She pushed through her own insecurities and closed the three-foot distance between them. "But hurry," she said, hugging him and pressing her face into his chest.

The way he hugged her back scared her. So tightly. She looked up into his face, looked to see evidence of the fear she felt. He kissed her before she could see anything more. Kissed her with that hunger that made her forget everything. The William kiss. It differed from the hunger she'd encountered when he pretended to be Josh. Josh's hunger was open and unguarded. William's hunger was edged with a desperate terror, like he was a storm waiting to happen any second—unpredictable.

"When you get back, we'll just do nothing but stare at each other until we're sick."

He gave her a real smile followed by a chuckle. "I would like that, Rosie," he whispered, touching his nose to hers. "I would win."

She laughed. "You'd get sick first."

"Never."

"You say that now," she assured.

"I'll say that when you're two hundred thousand."

"I'll be dead," she laughed.

"You sure you're okay here till I get back?"

"Why? Are you offering for me to go?" At his flustering, she said, "Lord, I'm joking. Look," she whispered. "Look at me." She waited till he did and she stared into his eyes for several seconds. "We don't have secrets between us. But," she hurried. "I know you need time for things. And I know you will tell me everything, but I don't want you hiding from me. It's okay that you have things you're not ready to tell me. I'm okay with that. I meant it about knowing you have things you have to do. Coping mechanisms, oddities, cute quirks.” She laughed at his eye roll. “I actually plan to uncover all of them and show you I’m safe to be real with. Well, actually,” she mumbled, “would be nice if you just told me them, maybe as you did them, so I’m not guessing?”

Relief hit her when he smiled. “You want me to tell you all my quirks as I’m quirking?”

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