Oh my god. My mother was the boyfriend collector. The realization hits me. That’s why she put that clause about marrying in her will.
“I have to go,” I say to Markus.
“Is that a no for Wednesday?” he asks.
“I’m not sure. I think…” I could be going crazy and wake up tomorrow wondering if I’ve truly lost my mind. “I think tonight is just what I needed. Thank you for taking me.”
I leave the car, grab my phone, and dial Bex. His answering service picks up.
“Hi, this is Rose Hale. Can you please tell Dr. Hughes to meet me at his office in thirty minutes? Tell him it’s an emergency.”
I hang up, knowing this is wrong, but it’s what I have to do.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Bex calls five times, but I don’t answer. I know he’s on his way. And I know this is the sort of conversation we need to have in person. As strange as it sounds, I’m not afraid. I know it’s going to suck, and I’m going to cry when he reminds me he’s married.
It’s the worst, most hopeless romantic situation ever, and I’m slicing open my veins to it. I want this inoculation, because I was right about sabotaging myself. I think fear is what’s holding me back. I’m afraid to have my heart broken. I’m afraid these men will betray me. After all, it’s what I’ve come to expect from the world. But until I get over that fear, I’m always going to find an excuse as to why someone isn’t good enough. I’ll focus on what’s wrong instead of what’s right. I’ll sabotage myself over and over again despite what happens with the will.
I’m leaning against the wall when I hear the creaking hinges of the stairwell door. Bex steps into the hallway, and my breath hitches. Tall, rumpled dark hair, thick stubble. Still, as tired and pissy as he looks, he’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. He was there the night of the party. He came to my rescue. And then he turned around and pushed me to be the hero. He refused any other possible ending to my story. All of that makes it impossible not to want him.
“Rose, what the hell is going on? Why aren’t you answering your phone?” He walks toward me, and my heart feels like it’s about to pop from my chest and run away.
“I’m sorry. I know it’s late, but this couldn’t wait. Can we talk inside?”
He stops in front of me and looks down with those icy blue eyes. They’re filled with emotion: concern, irritation, and something else I can’t pinpoint.
“This had better be good.” He fishes his keys from his pocket and unlocks the door, pushing it open for me.
I enter, and he flicks the switch on the wall.
I don’t bother with entering his office. Instead I turn and face him.
“Do you want to go inside?” he asks.
I shake my head. “I’m not here to see my therapist.”
“Then why the hell did you get me out of bed at one o’clock in the morning?” He frowns with confusion.
“I’m falling in love with you. Not a crush, like I tried to convince myself over the last few days, but love. It’s why I ran out in our last session. But I don’t want to be a home wrecker. I don’t want to love a married man who will only tell me that what I’m feeling is the result of transference. I know patients fall for their doctors. Victims fall for their rescuers.” And romance addicts like my mom fall for no one.
He stares for a long moment. “Rose…I don’t think you—”
“Stop.” I hold up my hand. “I know you can’t reciprocate. I know you’re happily married. I know you don’t want me and never will. But that’s not why I’m doing this. I’ve decided that love is more important than getting my inheritance. I want it more than I want to win, and I’m willing to risk everything for it. But I’m never going to find it until I stop being afraid and just accept that love should be given without fear or any strings attached. I think that’s why my mother put the clause in her will about me marrying. Not to make me miserable, but to push me to take a chance. And maybe she did it expecting I’d fuck up so hard that I’d marry some douchebag and have my heart broken. And then…I’d keep on living. I’d keep breathing. I’d pick myself up and live another day.” But after that, I’d never be afraid to love. I wouldn’t collect boyfriends, like she did.
Bex’s face is a solid block of cement. I don’t care, because I know it means he’s trying to keep his emotions to himself.
“Rose, those are a lot of assumptions.” He scrubs the back of his neck with a large hand. “All of them worthy of your introspection. But you’re right about one thing. I can’t reciprocate. Not because I don’t think you’re amazing or stronger than anyone I’ve ever met. You’ve already overcome things that would take most people a decade. But at the end of the day, if I care for you, then I have to do what’s right.” He takes my hands and holds them tight. “I’m not the man for you, Rose Marie. I’m only here to help you move on to the next part of your life, the best part.”
I blink, feeling my eyes tear. This isn’t the rejection I expected, but I still know it had to happen. Now I can move on. And I’ll do it with an open heart instead of allowing my fears to hold me back.
“I understand.” I nod, squeezing his hands, too. They’re warm and just the right amount of softness. His smile is the same. Nothing fake. Nothing underhanded. Just a genuine smile that says no matter what, he’ll be there for me. He’ll love…love…me?
I blink. “Bex?” I say it like an accusation. He can’t love me back. I don’t want that.
“What?”
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I drop my arms.
“Like how?”
“Like…never mind.” It doesn’t matter. It really doesn’t. “I just want to say thank you. And goodbye. I’m going to be okay now.”
He dips his head and looks at me with those affectionate eyes. So blue. So full of desire.
Oh God. That’s what he was hiding from me this whole time: He’s falling in love with me, too.
I exhale. Damn, I could have loved you. But at least I did it. I told him.
We stare for the longest moment, and then, fucking hell, I don’t know what I’m doing, but I push up on the balls of my feet and kiss him.
Electric shock.
Flutters.
Starlight raining through my veins.
All I hear is the sound of my heart pounding through me.
The colors of the room fade to white. Suddenly, I see myself walking down the aisle toward him. My hands are empty. The seats are empty. But his smile fills my soul.
I break away and step back. For once I have no words. Except, “Why did I do that?”
“Rose, I’m sorry. It was wrong to let it go this far, but I—”
“Please don’t apologize. This is all on me. I shouldn’t have kissed you.” Because now I’m wondering if this is what my mother was really afraid of. This. I’m never going to be the same again, and a part of me will never stop wanting him.
I leave and don’t look back.
Bex
What the hell just happened? I watch Rose leave my office, but this time it feels different. I want to run after her. Yet I’ve made promises and taken oaths. I can’t break them because then I’d only be as good as my father, a man who put his own needs first. A man who betrayed the people who trusted him.
Fuck. I run my hands through my hair. This is the first time since my father died that I’ve allowed myself to really think about him. Despite everything, I could use his advice right now. He always knew what to say to make me see clearly. The thing is, I want Rose. I think I did from the first moment I saw her. But to act on it isn’t just immoral, it puts her at risk. She came to me for help. She gave me her trust. What does that say about me if I abuse that position? And how can I help if I’m fucking her instead of healing her?
This is the precise reason there are professional boundaries. Acting on any romantic impulses goes against everything I believe.
Still, I think I could’ve walked away if she hadn’t kissed me. Now I’m not so sure.
&n
bsp; I grab my keys, get in my car, and head home, resisting going to her apartment. No good will come of it. I can’t be with her. I would never respect myself again if I gave in to my desire for those long legs and plump lips or those eyes that tell me exactly what she’s thinking. Mostly, I’m captivated by her spirit. I’ve never known anyone to get knocked down so hard that it leaves a tear in their soul, only to get right up and face life head-on. That’s Rose. That’s the woman I haven’t been able to get out of my mind since the day she entered my office. She’s a force of nature, and if the right man is lucky enough to catch her wind in his sails, I have no doubt he’d stay by her side forever.
I pull up to my house, a brick ranch with a lawn and lackluster garden. I don’t have much of a green thumb, and Sophie kills just about any plant she touches. The backyard looks more like a scene from a postapocalyptic movie. Red clay and more red clay.
I unlock the door and Sophie is standing in the hallway, giving me one of her looks. Why did I leave in the middle of the night when I spend all day at work? Why don’t I spend more time with her? She’s right. I know she is.
She turns and disappears into the bedroom.
“I’m sorry! I know that doesn’t mean anything to you, but I am.” Since my father died, all I think of is work. And Rose…
No. Don’t go there. It can’t happen between us.
I head to the kitchen to make myself a sandwich, trying to take my mind off that kiss. I can’t allow my emotions to get the best of me. I know what’s right.
The doorbell rings, and my blood turns cold. There’s only one person I can think of who’d show up in the middle of the night. It’s not hard to Google my name and find my home address. Rose. I can’t believe she came to my house.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Rose
I’m standing at Bex’s door, and it takes everything I have not to scream. Or pee myself. I know that whatever’s about to happen, it’s not going to be good. But I had no choice. Literally.
“Ring the fucking doorbell again,” says Gustavo, pushing the nose of the gun into the base of my spine.
“Stop it, okay. I already rang it.” And from the sound of the heavy footsteps, Bex is pissed that someone is knocking on his door in the middle of the night. With the way he drove home, I assume he was pissed then, too. He didn’t even notice the car following him. I wish he had. I seriously wish he had.
“Gustavo, please. Let’s just go. I promise there’s nothing between him and me. He’s married to a nice woman named Sophie.”
“Then why the fuck were you two kissing, huh?” Gustavo growls.
So he saw us. He must’ve followed me to Bex’s office and been in the hallway. “Because…because I don’t know, okay? It was a moment of weakness, and I’ve been feeling lonely.”
He grabs a clump of my hair in the back and pulls. “And whose fucking fault is that, huh?” he snarls in my ear.
“Stop it. You’re hurting me,” I whimper, and he lets go.
The door flies open, and Bex is standing there with a massive scowl. The moment he sees Gustavo and the look on my terrified face, he becomes an unreadable brick wall.
“Rose,” Bex says, “why are you here? You know it’s inappropriate to show up at your therapist’s house.”
I hear a big dog bark in the background. It sounds like it’s shut up in a room or something.
“She’s here for more of that tongue therapy I’ve heard so much about,” says Gustavo. “It’s your specialty, right?” He waves his gun at Bex as if to say move it.
Bex steps aside, keeping his calm cool façade. If I didn’t know him, I’d say he was bored by all this.
We enter, and Gustavo grabs me by the hair again, drags me to the living room, and shoves me down onto the couch. It’s a navy-blue thing with yellow dog hair all over it. Chew toys are scattered all over the floor, and the TV is set to Animal Planet, but on mute.
“You. Sit next to her.” Gustavo waves the gun at Bex. “Where’s your wife? I think she should join us.”
“I don’t have a wife,” Bex replies calmly. “Just the dog, and she’s locked in my room. She’s not going to bother you.”
Bex has no idea that hiding Sophie is only going to piss Gustavo off. The thing is, Bex was right. This man is dangerous, and clearly he’s crazy, too.
This is all my fault. I should have listened to Bex and called the police the other night. Had I done that, maybe we wouldn’t be here right now.
“Gustavo,” I say calmly, “I’m sorry I didn’t call you back, but I needed time to—”
“Fuck all those men?” he snarls and points the gun at me. “Yeah, I’ve been watching you, bitch. Every night, another guy.”
“You’ve been spying on me?”
“I call it protecting myself. From little whores like you.”
Whore. I’m not even sure where to start with that one. “Those were only dates. Nothing happened. And either way, this is between you and me. It has nothing to do with Dr. Hughes.”
He looks at Bex. “Bring her here.”
“Who?”
“Your fucking wife, asshole!”
Bex exhales slowly. “I don’t have a wife,” he says as calmly as a gentle breeze. “And if you’d lower the gun, we could discuss what it is you wan—”
“Don’t you move, or I’ll blow her brains out,” Gustavo says to Bex.
Gustavo obviously doesn’t believe Bex because he takes the gun, points it at my head, and drags me by the hair down the hallway. Bent at the waist, I stumble behind him, trying to pry my hair free. “Stop it! Fucking get your hands off me!”
I can’t see where we’re going, but I get that he’s inspecting every room of the house. Thankfully, it’s small—kitchen, den, laundry room, and the bedroom.
Gustavo pops open the last door, and a large golden retriever bolts out and begins attacking him.
Gustavo kicks the dog hard, and it yelps, flying back.
“No!” Bex yells from behind and rushes at Gustavo. A gunshot fires off at the exact same time he releases me.
I fall straight forward; my nose and cheekbone smash into the hardwood floor. Grunts and groans echo against the walls of the dark hallway, and when I clear the hair from my eyes, I see blood. Gustavo is on the ground. Bex is on top of him, wrestling the gun away. I look over my shoulder, and there’s a woman in pajamas, holding a gun in one hand and a cell in the other. She’s blonde, tall, and beautiful.
Bex stands up, gun in hand, and points it at Gustavo. “Don’t move.” He looks at the woman. “Are they on their way?”
“Yes,” she replies.
Bex looks at me with that stern expression I’ve come to know. “Go wait in the living room.”
I can’t. I can’t move. I can’t breathe. I have no idea what’s just happened. Except…suddenly there’s a rage inside me, and it overflows like lava from a fiery volcano. I scramble to my hands and knees and lunge for Gustavo.
“You fucker!” I beat his chest, going right for the spot that’s bleeding. I don’t care. Everything bad that’s ever been done to me is now him. He’s the monster who takes and hurts. He wants me to be afraid. I won’t let it happen. “Die! Fucking die!” I slam my fist into his chest one more time before Bex manages to pry me off.
“Rose, get off him. Come on, honey.”
“No! I’m done letting them hurt me. I’m done!” What Bex doesn’t know is that on the way here, Gustavo told me that my grandparents had hired him. The night in the alley, I was supposed to die—a violent mugging gone wrong. He knew I had no mother or family, so he painted a picture he felt would lure me in, make me trust him. Truthfully, Gustavo is a bad, bad man, and I should’ve listened to Bex—something that kept running through my mind when I asked Gustavo why he didn’t just kill me that night. “Why did you save me?” I asked him.
“I was supposed to bring you to the alley. The other guy would do the rest. Your grandparents paid to make it messy—but I don’t do those kinda jobs. Clean kills
only. And I don’t do rape.”
Gustavo’s words knocked the wind right out of me. How could my own grandparents pay to have me violated and brutally murdered? I didn’t think it possible to feel as sick and heartbroken as I did in that moment. Knowing this kind of cruelty exists in the world is one thing. Knowing your own family wishes it on you is another.
Gustavo then added, “I was about to get in my car and drive away—then I changed my mind. I liked you, Rose. Genuinely liked you. But I didn’t know what a dirty little slut you’d turn out to be. It’s enough to make me change my mind about getting messy.”
In that moment, I was sure I wouldn’t come out of this night alive. And part of me almost didn’t care. The devastation, the hate, the anger—my heart would never recover from this, so what was the point? To live my life like two ruthless, greedy cowards like Melvin and Gertie?
But then I saw him. Bex. Standing there in his doorway, and somehow I just knew I’d be okay. Because since I met him, I’ve become real. Not a cartoon version of myself living in a nightmare where I’m invisible and worthless. Yes, I’m flawed. Insecure at times. Naïve in a lot of ways. But surviving this long has made me strong. I can take hit after hit and keep my chin up. It’s what makes me a survivor because my resilience reaches deep into my soul. Nobody can take that from me. No matter how vicious, how deceitful, how hard they try to keep me down, they will never alter my DNA. And that’s what makes me the hero of my own story.
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