Page 7 of Bedding Rose
“Do you?”
I nod.
His brown eyes narrow and he glares up at me. “You’d better.” He doesn’t threaten me. But he doesn’t need to. I’ve seen what he’s truly capable of.
Needless to say, when I pull up to the Dalton’s house that evening, my mouth is set in a grim line. This ends now.
I’m getting answers, whether she likes it or not. I can’t afford to keep letting her distract me like this.
* * *
Two Days Later
Rose ran to her room,locked the door, and knocked out her screen, climbing out of the fucking window to get away from me. And that tied my hands—I couldn't run after her because her brother would see. I can only imagine the shit that would go down then. I'd detach his balls from his body with a red-hot spoon if he ever sniffed around Tatiana.
And I'm not doing the same thing—this thing with Rose is definitely notthat. It’s … concern. That’s all. Just concern.
But if he asks, I can't explain myself without giving up her secret, which I promised not to do. Catch-22.
So she ran and I let her, biding my time.
But the girl hasn’t been home since. I know because I keep dropping by. Quique’s been asking if everything’s alright—hinting I’ve been coming around too often—and I’ve barely been able to keep it under control.
I want to Hulk out and blow my goddamned lid because everything is not alright. I haven’t slept in four motherfucking days. Not one drop of sleep. Not a single grain of dirt from the sandman. Right now, I'm living off energy drinks and desperation.
I need to know she's okay.
I need to hear it from her lips.
And this running thing she's doing? The more I think about it, the more it just chafes my ass. I was checking on her, trying to do the fucking nice-guy shit.
God, I should just throw her over my shoulder and …
And what, idiot?
I scrub a hand over my soot-black hair in frustration, not allowing myself to untangle that thought.
I should have told Quique what was up that night. Should have let him handle this. But my entire body pulses with discomfort at the idea.
So here I am, all worked up, can’t sleep, messing up at work—
Something’s got to give, and it’s not going to be me.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I glance down to see a text from my sister, Tatiana.
Tatiana:I’m home.
Me:Ok. Thanks.
After my quick response to her check-in, I slide the phone back into my pocket but it almost immediately buzzes again. With a sigh, I pull it back out. I’m surprised to see my sister’s calling me, not just texting me back. Did something happen?
My pulse picks up and I swipe to answer. “You okay?” I ask.
“Um, I think the question is areyouokay?” My little sister’s voice comes out a bit breathy but she just got home from Cross Country, so that’s to be expected.
“What do you mean?” I ask, though I shift uncomfortably where I stand at my kitchen counter, a bowl of cereal unfinished in front of me.
“You never let me check in and just say okay. I always get the third degree.” She drops her voice an octave as she openly mocks me.“Who were you with? What did you do? What are you doing next?”
