Page 27 of Cuts Like An Angel: Part 3

Rosie stood still in the yard, too shocked at his words, at the venom in them to interject into his rambling. It was off for him. “When do you see Carly? Maybe we can both go and discuss ideas with her. Options?”

He’d moved the appointment Rosie had made for him. Not because of the day, but because it had been too early to leave her with Maria.

“You need to get out of the house. You’re there too much.”

“William,” Rosie cut in. “We can’t let her do this. You promised,” she whispered, sparing a glance at the porch and the windows near it. The idea that the woman wasn’t anywhere near as decrepit as she pretended was becoming more than a niggle for Rosie. She didn’t want to tell William that she thought maybe his mother might be leaving her room at night. The last thing he needed was a paranoid girlfriend with an overactive imagination.

“I’m home, Rosie.”

She hurried around the house, not wanting to go inside and raced to his car. She threw her arms around him when he got out and inhaled that scent of him, the warm smell of William, mixed in with the cold bite of the outside. “I missed you.”

For a moment, his strong arms were all she knew, and she clung to him, pressing her cheek into his chest and inhaling him.

“I’ll call Carly,” he whispered, smoothing his hand over her hair. “She’ll have a fresh perspective. I can’t think one inch past that woman.”

Rosie nodded against his chest, sighing with relief. Carly would help. She’d know what to do. “Did you find what it was you needed?” She pushed out of his arms.

“Yeah. I looked at some laptops too. Something to replace that monster upstairs, but with a little mobility to it. That way I can work in the kitchen when you’re at work.”

Rosie’s fears melted as it all came back, their plan for him to be there all the time. That was all Rosie needed. Even if she went to work, it would be a comfort knowing he was there whenever she needed him to be. She could handle that. She could handle the woman as long as William was with her.

But she couldn’t pretend she could handle her alone. Ever since she’d come home, every shadow seemed to hold a sinister presence. No matter how hard Rosie fought the nonsense, it stuck to her skin like the old woman’s cold fingers, and it followed her everywhere she went, even in her subconscious. As much as she hated to admit it, only a short week in with the mother home, and Rosie was beginning to feel officially creeped out.

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