Page 48 of Unravel Me

The grip on my heart instantly eases, a soaring, freeing feeling as excitement bubbles to the surface at the thought that maybe, after all, we’re so much more alike than I’ve realized. That he’ll understand all the fears, the nagging thoughts that eat at me in the darkest, quietest parts of the night, when I’m all alone, wondering if I’ll always be this way.

Hope fills me so fluidly, a warm feeling that nearly spills out of me. Before the words can come, Adam goes on.

“My dad did a lot of volunteer work with the home I was in, so I met him right away. I think four-year-old me would’ve gone home with him that first day, I was so enamored with him. Every time he was in, I followed him around like a puppy. I wanted to be just like him.” He smiles, a little far off, like he’s remembering something. “I was in foster care for ten months, and my parents adopted me not long after my fifth birthday.

All that bubbling hope dies, dropping like a dead weight, sitting on my chest in an oddly suffocating way. It’s a petty, dirty thing, the jealousy that nips at me, the bitterness that he spent so little time there, that he found this beautiful family that chose him, that decided they wanted to love him for the rest of their lives and his.

All I want to feel for him in this moment is happiness that he found that. Instead, I’m overcome with guilt and a stinging pile of self-hatred, because beyond the genuine happiness lies the weight of wishing there was somebody out there,anybody, who might understand what it’s like to sit there day after day, on your best behavior, hoping,dreamingthat someone might choose you. Might spend five minutes talking to you and go,Hey, I think I want to take a chance on her. I think I want to keep her.

I think I want to love her.

I bury the nasty thoughts as deep as I can, choosing to embrace the good ones as I squeeze his hand. “I’m happy you found your forever family, Adam.”

“Are your parents in the city?” he asks casually as he leads me through his house, toward his backyard.

“It’s just me and Connor. I came out here on my own after I graduated from high school.”

“Does it ever get lonely?”

Always.

I force a smile. “I keep busy.”

“Right, but…” His fingers circle my arm, stopping me. “That’s not what I asked.”

His eyes rake my face, searching for answers. But I’m still searching for them myself.

“How about this, Rosie.” He brackets my jaw in his hand, the pad of his thumb trapping my lower lip. “How busy do you want me to keep you? Because sometimes I feel lonely, but when I’m with you, I feel full.”

That fullness he swears he feels seeps into my skin, filling all the empty spaces like sand between pebbles. “I’d like you to keep me very busy.”

Happiness detonates his face. “I can do that.”

Adam’s backyard is as immaculate as his house, exquisite and sprawling. Situated below Mount Fromme, it’s a plush green oasis worthy of a magazine spread.

“Of course you have a waterfall feature,” I mumble as Adam dips into the pool, long arms making circles as he pushes himself backward, waiting, watching,grinning.

My heartbeat threatens to pound out of my chest as I dip my toes. The water is warm, but the chill that trembles down my spine isn’t.

I swim where there are lifeguards. Where the water reaches my hips and my feet touch the bottom. Where Archie and Marco are arm’s length away, in case panic sets in.

My eyes flutter closed as I chant the mantra my therapist taught me.

My past is not my future. I’m allowed to be scared, and I’m allowed to choose to move slowly, so long as I move.

I move, down one step, warm water lapping at my ankles as the air in my chest rattles my rib cage.

“Rosie?” Adam murmurs, and my lids flip open. “You gonna take your cover-up off?”

“What?” I look down at myself, still covered. “Oh. Yeah. Duh.” I find one of the loungers below the gazebo, and with my back to Adam, I slowly peel off my cover-up and drop it. My fingers tremble at my belly as I remind myself I’m beautiful and strong, that if Adam can’t see it, it’s his loss.

I drop to the first step and stop, curling my fingers into my palms three times, squeezing my eyes shut as I count each one. I hear the lapping of water, the steadydrip drip dripas Adam climbs the steps, feel the warmth of his hands as they circle my waist, fingertips digging in.

“Rosie?” he whispers, so close, I think his lips may be nearly touching mine. I want to look, but I can’t.

“Yeah?”

“Open your eyes.”

---