Drawing in a deep breath, Rosalie takes a second to consider it as her eyes ping around the only home she remembers.
I glance at where she left her backpack by the house. “If we’re going to go, it has to be now. I’ll show you all my IDs. I’ll tell you about every different alias I have, all my secrets… if you’ll just come with me.”
I back up, giving her the choice to run as far away from me as she can.
She glances at the woods. Then her eyes land on me. “I don’t know what to do. I’m confused and hurt. I don’t know the difference between what’s true and false. I feel like I’m stuck on a swinging pendulum, and I need you to tell me something real to make it stop.”
“Something real? It’s not safe for you in there. I know that much, Rosie Doll.”
She looks away. “Don’t call me that. And so what you’re saying is, it’s safer with you? With my supposed father? You think I want to go live with someone I’ve never met? Why does everyone always want to make my decisions? Am I not allowed to call the shots, ever? This is my life!” she whisper-yells, ripping some grass up and tossing it into the air.
She’s right, which is why Ivan’s plan has never sat right with me. I took this job with every intention of following through with his wishes. I just wanted to release this girl from her prison.
Then my interest turned to obsession, and my obsession morphed into something deeper.
Now I care about Rosalie.
Too much.
If anything, I’m relieved that she doesn’t want to go to Ivan.
“All right.” I hold my hands out in a placating gesture. “You’re right, okay?”
She’s still sitting at my feet, looking so fragile and beautiful. Her oversized clothing swallows her petite frame, and I want to fatten her up a little. Put a healthy glow on her skin and a happy sparkle in her eyes.
I extend an arm to help her up. After hesitating for a couple seconds, she decides to take it. Her fingers slide against my gloves, and I wish we were skin on skin. Just the thought of it sends shivers up my spine.
“Rosalie, I’m going to go get your backpack,” I tell her firmly once she’s standing, and I let go of her hand. “Then we’re going to walk through the woods together. We’ll get to the property line, then we’ll get into town where I have a car. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. I’ll even let you ditch me once I know you’re somewhere safe.”
“Really?” She doesn’t believe me, raising an eyebrow and tapping her cute little foot.
“Well, if I’m being honest, I’m hoping you’ll let me tag along with you for a while. Let me make sure you’re okay in the long run.”
In fact, I’m counting on it. She needs me. And I need her.
“Why would you want to do that?”
“Because you’re my best friend,” I quietly admit. “Getting to know you these past couple months has been the best time of my life. You want something real? Well, there it is.”
Before Rosalie has a chance to return the sentiment or reject it, I turn away from her and start across the grass. While I retrieve her things, she stays in place, patiently and curiously waiting for me.
As soon as I get back to her, I slide my jacket off and drape it around her shoulders.
“What are you doing?” Her eyelids get heavy with satisfaction as the warmth engulfs her, but she’s eyeing my hoodie as if it’s offensive. “You’re going to freeze.”
“I’ll be fine.” I zip the leather up to her chin. “A hike in the cold is nothing compared to what I went through at boot camp.”
“Boot camp? You’re military?”
I nod. “Marines.”
“So you have to live by some code of honor or something?” There’s hope in her question, like being in the military automatically makes me more trustworthy.
I wish.
“If there’s anything you need to know about the world,” I say, “it’s that we’re all human. Doctors, police, soldiers. People make mistakes. They lie. They cheat. It’s just a fact of life.”
Glancing to the woods, I note the way the thick tree trunks and spindly branches cloak the area in shadows. We can’t use a flashlight until we’re farther away, but I’ve become familiar with the area. Not far from here, I’ve cleared a path, which will make the journey faster.
I hold out my hand to Rosalie. We’re about to venture into the wilderness together, and it’s best that we hold onto each other so we don’t get separated.
Suddenly, Rosalie slaps my palm.
I look at her.
She stares back. “What? You were asking for a high-five, right? Or I guess it’s a low-five. No?” She reads my silence as a bad thing and starts to squirm awkwardly. “Oh, you wanted a handshake. Oops.”
Damn, she’s adorable.
When her fingers clasp mine, I maintain a tight grip. “We need to hold hands.”
Her face pinches with confusion. “Why?”
“It’s too easy to get lost in the woods at night. We have to stick together.”
“You want to hold my hand?” she asks slowly, like she doesn’t believe me.
Or like she finds the suggestion repulsive.
I can’t tell which.
“It’s for the sake of safety.” I lace my gloved fingers with hers. “I’m not trying to do anything ungentlemanly. We just need to do things my way until we’re far away from here, because that’s how we’re going to—”
Survive.
I don’t want to finish the sentence because it might scare Rosalie. In truth, she should be scared. I’m betraying the mafia to give her what she wants, but I’ll shoulder the burden of that knowledge for the both of us.
“Going to what?” she prods.
“I just don’t want to lose you,” I simply say, gently tugging her along.
She has no idea how much I mean those words.
I can’t believe I’m with Preston right now. The guy I’ve been fantasizing about. And we’re holding hands. Even though the flashlight is on now, I haven’t let go. He hasn’t either.
I never noticed it before tonight, but Preston has the cutest little gap between his two front teeth. The tiny imperfection makes him look younger, offsetting the gray hair and making his age more believable.
He also has nice skin. The parts that aren’t covered by his beard are smooth and tan.
And his eyes. It’s too dark to see now, but before, when we were less than two feet apart, I noticed how thick his lashes are around his brown eyes. With some mascara, they’d look fake, and I wonder if he ever uses Maybelline like he said in our chats.
I shake my head at myself.
I’m still thinking of him as Jessa. A little stab shoots through my heart as I mourn the loss of the friend I thought I had. I told her things. Personal, private things.
Him. I told him.
God, we talked about boys. I told him I’ve never kissed anyone before. How humiliating.
Although right now I’m sort of longing for the chatty girl I thought Preston was, because this silence is unnerving.
Now that I have a person with me—someone who isn’t my mother—all I want to do is pepper him with questions and talk about anything and everything.