Page 108 of Rosie and the Beast Next Door

“We may never get an offer like this again, boys,” Jules said.

Haydn turned and walked toward me. Then he bent, picked me up, and threw me over his shoulder. “I will watch every rom com and Jenny Austen movie ever made if it means I get to go home to my wife.”

“Jane, not Jenny,” I grumbled with my face pressed to his spine. But I let him carry me without a fight because sand was getting in my shoes, so this was better. Take that, Haydn, and your disgusting love.

Fine, it wasn’t disgusting. It was freaking adorable. Where was my “Make Me Sob” playlist when I needed it?

I rode back with Haydn this time. He kept one hand near enough to me to catch me if I tried to jump overboard and swim back to the island. I thought about it but ultimately decided that I’d miss Charlie. And my book club. And the Icy Asps softball team. And Lizzy most of all. Hopefully she wasn’t missing me too much. But also—hopefully she’d missed me at least a little.

As for the other person I wasn’t thinking about …

I watched the white bubbles foam behind us as we approached Winterhaven’s docks. I hopped out of the dingy to tie us off, and took the bags that Haydn handed to me. My phone started to buzz nonstop in my pocket. Ah, beautiful cell service.

“Did we miss a natural disaster or something?” Haydn asked as he pulled his lit-up phone from his pocket too. Jules and Bennett had beaten us to the dock and were waiting for us at the parking lot, both of them on their phones as well.

“Um, Rosie?”

“Yeah,” I said absently. It looked like everyone in town had messaged me this morning, a variation of the same message—I had texts from Mr. and Mrs. Savage, Mrs. Mabel, Gene, Mr. Willingham, my boss at the Icy Asps, Hudson, and even Max. And then every single one of them had the same link attached.

I went to click on it when my phone rang with Charlie’s number. I answered it.

“Oh my gosh!” she said, sounding breathless.

“Are you running?” I asked her.

“Yes! I’ve got three dogs with me. Where are you?”

“At the docks with my brothers. We just got back from the island. What’s going on?”

“Read the link I sent you right now. Then call me back.”

My brothers were all looking at me expectantly.

“From a freaking movie,” Jules said, his tone full of respect, even as he shook his head.

I pulled up the link, my heart racing as I clicked on it. What could be worse than the article that had come out a few days ago? Had Dad sold more information? More lies?

SHRUBS OF FOG AUTHOR TO VISIT WINTERHAVEN

Critically acclaimedShrubs of Fogauthor, V. R. Grimes, is set to visit Winterhaven on November 23 for a book signing and exclusive book discussion at our local bookstore.

“Why …?” I blinked a few times, and Bennett looked over my shoulder.

“Seriously? What did you click on?”

“The link Max sent me.”

Bennett rolled his eyes and exited the article. He pulled up Charlie’s text and clicked on it. An entirely different article opened up—this one a picture I’d never seen before of me and Dylan. The article was from a national celebrity magazine, one of the bigger ones. I caught my breath as I studied the picture. It was clearly a Dylan-specialty (all bad angles and shadowed lighting) but he caught us in the moment we were smiling at each other, right after our first kiss in the graveyard.

If he at any point had any questions about how I felt about him, my complete adoration was clear as day in that photo.

My Own Fairytale

By Dylan Savage

Once upon a time, there was a beast. He was pretty handsome, so people occasionally mistook him for Gaston or other classically good-looking villains. But he was a beast in his heart where it mattered. He didn’t care, though. All he cared about was winning.

Then, his best friend died. And all the beast saw was an endless pit of darkness—except for one pinprick image in his vision: how he had failed to save his friend. Nothing mattered. No one mattered.

---