Rosalie gasps. “Oh, no.”
“It was raining and dark. I didn’t see the big patch of water on the country road until it was too late. I hydroplaned and lost control.”
“Did you get hurt?”
I’m done with the haircut now, so I unpack the coloring materials from the little box, laying the items on a folded-up towel next to the sink. “Not too bad. A few bumps, bruises, and a mild concussion. Considering I rolled the truck four times, I was pretty damn lucky to walk away from the crash. The crime landed me in juvie for a month.” Vigorously shaking the bottle of dye, I brace myself for the next part. There’s no way to sugarcoat it. My voice comes out gruff when I say, “While I was locked away, Krystal hanged herself in the closet.”
“Oh, Preston.” Rosalie turns, her feet shuffling over all the hair on the floor. “I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“You know it’s not your fault, right?”
“But it is.” While I appreciate her immediate defense, she’s wrong. I’m to blame. “I’ll never forgive myself for not being there. If I hadn’t been gone, maybe she’d still be alive. And the part that really kills me is that the Marshalls were planning to adopt us both. We would’ve been siblings for real, if I hadn’t been such a dumbass and she’d just been able to hold on.”
Wrapping her arms around my middle, Rosalie presses as close as she can with the big lump on her stomach between us. “Almost fifty percent of transgender people are suicidal at some point in their life. I realize you probably already know that—I’m just regurgitating what I learned in the documentary, but it’s a fact you can’t deny. You couldn’t watch her all the time.”
“Well, I’ll never know because I fucked up.”
Separating from the hug, I slip on the gloves and start applying the dye to Rosalie’s hair. I appreciate that she’s trying to comfort me. More than she knows. But no one can ever convince me I didn’t play a part in Krystal’s death. The Marshalls never blamed me, but of course they wouldn’t. I was the one kid they had left, and they didn’t want to lose me, too.
Only, they did in a way. I changed. I was so shattered by Krystal’s death that I suppressed the fun side of myself. The side that fuels humor, lust, and spontaneity. I stopped drinking and using drugs. I quit dating. Figured if Krystal couldn’t party, neither should I. If she couldn’t fall in love, have sex, have a family, I shouldn’t get to either.
I’ve been living my life like a monk because of it. Always serious. Always business. Just trying to live my life one good deed to the next, but never feeling like it was enough.
Until Rosalie.
She feels like a chance to redeem myself. I couldn’t save my sister, but I can rescue her.
Rosalie fidgets with her hands. “I wish I knew what to say to make it better for you. I’m not very good at this. Whenever my mom was in distress, she’d get all distant, pop a pill, and chase it with bourbon, so I don’t have much practice at comforting people.”
“You’re perfect. You’re listening, and that’s really all you can do.” I try to smile.
“What about the good times? What did you and Krystal like to do together?”
My smile becomes real as I keep coating Rosalie’s hair with brown goop. “Makeovers. For her, not me. She’d beg me to brush her hair, braid it, do her makeup. I was pretty bad at it in the beginning, but I got better.”
“And that’s how you know all this stuff.”
“Yep. The pictures I sent you when I was pretending to be Jessa… That’s Krystal. I put those blue streaks in her hair.”
“Well, you have my permission to do my hair anytime you want…” Rosalie frowns thoughtfully and adds, “As long as you don’t end up thinking of me as a sister.”
I smirk, because she has no idea of all the dirty ways she’s starred in my fantasies. “Oh, baby. There’s literally zero chance of that happening.”
There’s a peaceful quiet in the room as I finish spreading the dye around. Once the ends are fully saturated, I twist Rosalie’s hair into a bun and place the shower cap on her head.
“Let that sit for twenty minutes, then rinse it out in the shower.” I turn to leave the bathroom before I do something reckless. Like get in the shower with her.
“Wait.” She grabs my arm. “Can you help me get my sweater off? I don’t want to stain it.”
She’s right. There’s dye on her neck near the hairline, and she might rub some off on her shirt if she’s not careful. We can’t afford to ruin any clothing.
Which is why I convince myself stripping her down is a gallant effort. I’m taking one for the team.
Fuck that. I’m getting turned the fuck on.
The bottom of the sweater is bunched in my hands. Even though that damn pregnancy suit is in the way of me touching her real stomach, it doesn’t matter. Just the thought of brushing my fingertips over her smooth skin is enough to give me a hard-on.
My erection strains inside my too-tight jeans as I help Rosalie get her arms out.
Finally, I’m stretching the neck hole and maneuvering it over her head without so much as a speck of damage to the material.
Breathing through the hammering of my heart, I fold the sweater and hang it on the towel rack.
“There you go.” My voice is huskier than usual, and I clear my throat.
Holding eye contact with me, Rosalie’s fingers go to the fasteners for the pregnancy suit at her shoulders. One side drops, revealing the white sports bra underneath. It falls just enough for me to see her stiff nipple inside the fabric.
Face blanketed with an innocent expression, she holds eye contact, her lips slightly parted and her cheeks pink.
This is just like all the times she stood in front of her window and undressed.
In this moment, I know she did it for me.
I know.
And that’s why I have to get out of here.
I leave the bathroom so fast I end up slamming the door a little. Wincing at the loud sound, I glance down the hallway. There’s no sign of Jay, Casey, or their son, but I’m too tired to seek them out. Plus, I won’t leave Rosalie unprotected.
Sitting, I face the bathroom door as I slump against the wall. Everything is calm and quiet, and fatigue finally overpowers the adrenaline coursing through my veins. When the shower starts going, the sound of running water is soothing, and before I realize it, I’ve dosed off.
Then the floor creaks next to me, and I startle awake.
“Hey.” Jay leans down to pat my shoulder. “It’s just me, man.”
Blowing out a breath, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Sorry. We’ll be gone soon, I swear.”
“About that.” Jay’s looking at me with sympathy, his hands shoved in his pockets. “You can stay tonight.”
“Really? You sure?”
“Yeah.”
Suddenly suspicious of his quick change of heart, I narrow my eyes. “Why?”
“I did some research.” He pauses. “Preston Walker.”
Shit. He found the report. Is he planning to keep us here until he can turn us in? That reward money could make the most loyal of friends turn on each other.