And she’d never said a word to him about it.
"Did you find whatever it was you came for?" Rosie asked, her voice rough as she pulled her hand from Max’s and crossed her arms.
He shook his head. "Happy, I came for you."
"Don't call me that. Happy died a long time ago. You can go and write that in some report somewhere and let her be."
"But-"
"I'm never going back there, Butch! There's nothing for me there and I don't want you here. I just,” she shook her head, fighting tears. "I just want to be left alone."
"Well, hey there, buddy.” Gizmo meowed eagerly and trotted to Butch, rubbing himself along his shins, happy to see his old friend. "It's been a long time, Gizmo. You're getting old, huh?" He picked the cat up in his arms and looked up at Rosie. "I can't believe you still have him."
“This is my fault,” Dallas said under his breath. “I should have called.”
“I just wanted to help,” Wendy said as she looked to Rosie. “I thought you were on some list of missing kids.”
Dallas shook his head. “That’s what I saw when I looked at that report. I saw missing kids. Kidnapped kids or runaways and then, here’s this guy who’s desperate to find you. I thought I was helping. He said you ran from a home,” Dallas said, his eyes questioning.
Rosie sighed. She didn’t want to tell them this shit. She wanted to let it go.
“Is that what he said?” She glared at Butch. “That I was in a home. That’s a new spin on it.”
“Like a group home,” Dal nodded.
“It was a mental institution,” she told him, her voice heated. “They dumped me in there and pumped me full of drugs and left me to rot.”
“No,” Wendy’s voice shook and tears filled her eyes.
“I came back for you-” Butch stood, his hands out pleading.
Rosie took a step back. Not just away from Butch, but away from them all. “I ran the second I could.”
“How did you end up there? There has to be more,” Dal insisted.
Max looked on wordlessly and she knew he wanted to know the truth, no matter what it cost them.
“You have my back?” She asked him, her voice shaking, cornered. “Is that what this is? Every second of every day, you said. Trust you. Trust this, you said.”
“It’s time to tell the truth, Rosie. Just tell us. Get it over with so we know what we’re dealing with.”
She shook her head. “There’s no we, Max. It’s not our story you want to hear. It’s mine. When Dallas told me you got arrested, I never asked you about it.” His head popped up in surprise. “Because I knew if you wanted me to know, you’d tell me.” She turned to Dallas and Wendy. “I’ve never asked you about the abandonment you feel from your family moving away or about your cheating ex boyfriends-”
“Rosie,” Max interrupted.
“Butch and his wife took me in. When I got too weird for them, which I always do, they threw me back where I belonged.”
“That’s not true,” Butch argued. “You never belonged in any of those shit holes, Happy, and we never should have let you go. I’ve regretted it every day since.” He climbed one stair closer and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’ve never been sorrier about anything in my life. I promised you a lot of things and I never came through.”
“Don’t be sorry. I trusted you,” Rosie choked out. “My mistake, not yours.”
“Happy,”
“Goddammit!” She yelled. “Stop calling me that!”
“I love your name,” he argued. “We did have some happy times, didn’t we?”
Rosie sucked in a breath through her nose.
“Like the time you sat on the witness stand and told a courtroom full of people you thought I was crazy?”
He paled. “That isn’t how it happened.”
“Like the time you told me I wouldn’t be able to be a big sister after all because it was just too hard for you to have me around the baby.” She took another step back.
“Michael talks about you all the time. He remembers you. Erin and I, we got divorced five years ago. I couldn’t stop looking for you.” He hung his head. “I couldn’t forgive myself for letting you go and I couldn’t forgive her for making me do it.”
For years, she’d assumed Butch and Erin had gone about their lives, one little happy family. She couldn’t fathom that she’d had that kind of impact on them.
“Your mom,” he looked away but didn’t need to finish. She already knew.
“She’s dead.”
“What?” Wendy whispered.
His head turned back to her quickly. “How’d you find out?”
This time Rosie was the one to look away. “She comes to me sometimes.”
“Even now?” Butch’s eyes narrowed.
Rosie looked out at the yard, trying to remember one day ago when this place had brought her so much peace.
“I know she lied, Happy – Rosie,” he corrected. “I tried to come see you at Coleman to tell you but,”
When he didn’t finish, Max prodded him along.
“But what?”
“But they had her pumped so full of drugs she couldn’t even lift her head.” He rubbed his eyes again. “Just a kid for Christ sake and they had her restrained and totally gorked.”
Rosie let out a humorless laugh as she took another step away, embarrassment and anger burning through her like wildfire. “And there, folks, is my life story.”
She turned to make a hasty exit. There was no way she could stay here, she needed to be anywhere but here.
“I pressed charges against her. For what she did to you.” Butch called after her but she kept walking almost to the end of the porch.
Dallas grabbed her arm and she pulled out his grip, sending him a glare.
“She went to jail for attempted murder. That’s where she died.”
Rosie stilled. No one had believed her when she’d told them her mother had gone berserk. She’d locked Rosie in a closet, only to pull her out later to brand her with a crucifix and choke the devil out of her. That’s what her mother had said. She needed to choke the demon out of Rosie’s body.
“Wait? Murder? Your mother?” Dallas asked.
“Her mother tried to kill her.” She heard them all take in a shocked breath. “Her mother did kill her.”
“Rosie,” Max took a step toward her, a look of pity on his face that made her heart crack in half.
She held her hands up, warding him off. “Please, don’t.”
He held out a hand to her but she just shook her head.
“This is what you all wanted to hear right? Why I ran. Who I really am. Well, there it is.” She looked at all three of them. “Are you happy now?”
“No,” Wendy was crying, tears slowly sliding down her cheeks.
“Killed her?” Dallas muttered, looking between Rosie and Butch.
“A neighbor came forward after the fact. Confirmed he’d helped revive Happy – Rosie, after he heard the commotion but ran due to an outstanding warrant.” He looked to Rosie. “I booked her myself. I owed you that much.”
Rosie took another step back and slashed her hand through the air. “I don’t want anyone to owe me anything. I don’t-” she shook her head, completely overwhelmed with them all. “I don’t want any of this.” Her eyes cut to Max. He was looking at her like he had no idea who she was. “I never wanted any of this.”
She turned around, quickly scooped up Gizmo who had been lounging on the porch, and took off.
None of them tried to come after her.
32
Rosie walked home through the woods, slogging through the dense forest. Stupidly, in her haste, she’d made her exit through the backyard even though her bike was in the front.
Once she got back to the trailer and locked the door behind her, she finally felt safe enough to let go. Her shoulders dropped and the tears came. At first, she wasn’t even sure why she was crying, an emotional release more than anything else.
Th
e first wave of tears came hard and fast, like a hurricane that descended and leveled everything in its wake. Her eyes leaked hot tears, that streamed down her cheeks. She held in great big sobs, afraid if she let them out, she might not ever stop. She spent hours in that first torrent of emotion, feeling completely separate from the rest of the world.
The second wave was fueled by anger and came hot on the heels of the first. When the wracking of her sobs stopped the growling of her rage began. Furiously, she stomped to her bedroom and dug out her old suitcase and flung it on the bed. In her frenzy, she cried while she packed her belongings. Jacob’s Beach was ruined for her now. Her past caught up to her and had spoiled whatever life she’d been trying to build. It wasn’t just about Butch. He’d been the trigger but she kept going back to Max, letting her bleed in front of him because he wanted to know what color her blood was. Her pain was no different than anyone else’s and she resented being forced to share things she didn’t want to. It wasn’t the first time he’d done that to her but it would certainly be the last.
The third wave came after she’d packed all the things she cared about. Her money and a few of her books, along with her clothes stashed in her suitcase, Gizmo in his carrying case stacked on top. She turned around to get one last view of the camper she loved so much and broke. Her back hit the door and she slid to the floor, holding her knees to her chest. How could everything go so wrong, so fast? How could the people that claimed to be her friends back her into that kind of corner? Max, who said he loved her, had pushed her further down when she was already on the ground.
It was dark by the time she dusted herself off and collected herself. She went to the bathroom and avoided glancing in the mirror. She knew, without looking, it wouldn’t be pretty.
Cold washcloth pressed to her face, Rosie wavered between leaving right that very moment and waiting until the morning. She considered the bus stop a mile away and the advantage of leaving at night. She was honest with herself and knew she was being a coward by considering it. Leaving without saying goodbye or giving Wendy two-weeks notice at work was a shitty thing to do. But when she thought about what had happened at Max’s, she decided that had been shittier. So, leaving at night was a good option.
The con was, it was the middle of the night and she had nowhere to go, no real way to get there, and no bus schedule to find a new place to go.
She consulted her watch and made a face. It really wasn’t that late. Chances were, she could get to the bus station while it was still open and hop on a bus to somewhere.
Anywhere.
Rosie made it to her usual bus stop bench in good time, even pulling a suitcase behind her with Gizmo in his cat carrier. She painstakingly avoided thinking about everything that had transpired at Max’s. At first, she told herself, it was because it was easier than breaking down in tears at any given moment. Later on, she admitted it was mostly because she didn’t want to think about what she was doing or what the consequences were. Was it really that big of a deal that Max knew about her past? Would it really affect the way he saw her?
But she knew it was more than that. It was about her privacy and her desperate need to keep those things close to her heart. That was on her, but Max had violated that a few times and as much as she thought she’d overcome the hurdle, she didn’t trust him. Maybe even less now, even after the night they’d spent together.
She hunkered further into her hoodie at the sound of a vehicle approaching and turned her head, her face out of sight. It passed by her slowly but drove on without incident.
It was another twenty minutes before her bus came and another thirty after that when she arrived at the main terminal.
She stood at the departures sign and contemplated. North, heading to Georgia, leaving in six hours. South, heading to Key West, via Miami, forty minutes. Seemed like an easy choice. She quickly bought her ticket and boarded her bus early after stowing her suitcase and poor Gizmo underneath.
It wasn’t full but seats were limited. Some people had clearly been on the bus for a while, camped out for the long haul. She found a window seat next to an elderly man.
He smiled when he saw her eyeing the seat and stood. “It’s free,” he said with a smile.
“Thanks,” she murmured.
Like she had at the bus stop, she kept her hood up and for good measure slid her sunglasses on. The international sign for leave me alone. She crossed her arms over her chest and slid down in her seat.
Ten hours after stops, the ticket agent had said.
Ten hours until she started over somewhere new.
Again.
Give her space.
That’s what they’d told him all day long.
Just give her some space.
It was strange, Max thought, he could go back and pinpoint the moment Rosie had piqued his interest. It had been months ago, way back that first night, at Tedesco’s. He’d offered to give her a ride and she’d refused. It was her refusal that stuck with him. He could picture her, that look in her eye like an animal caught in a cage with her hands up. As if she could hold him back with a gesture alone, and she had.
She’d done it again, on his porch, when Butch had revealed more in five minutes than Rosie had in the last three months. Not only had her mother tried to hurt Rosie but she’d succeeded.
Max could barely go there.
He’d taken a step toward her and she’d taken a step back and held her hands up again. A plea for him to stay away that he’d stupidly obeyed.
Let her cool off, he’d thought.
An hour ago, his mother had shown up at his house to deliver some left over cake from the business association dinner. She’d come in and casually talked for what seemed like forever before saying, “Where’s Rosie headed at this time of night?”
Max had leaned back, his brows drawn. “What do you mean?”
“She was sitting at the bus stop when I drove by.”
With a sigh, he put his hands on his hips and took in Rosie’s empty trailer. Her clothes were gone. Some of her books were gone. A few of her personal items were gone.
Most important to Rosie, Gizmo and her money were gone.
He scrubbed a hand down his face and took a painful breath.
She ran.
He’d thought they’d come further than that. He’d thought they were in a place she’d at least trust him enough to work it out together. He didn’t actually think she’d up and leave without a word.
Is this what Butch Hardy had felt when she’d run on out on him? Had he felt the same pain in his chest? The crushing sensation that seemed to center right where his heart was?
Was this his fault? Was Rosie right to feel betrayed by his need to know her past? What he’d learned hadn’t changed the way he felt about her but it had certainly pushed her away.
With one last look, Max exited the camper and headed to his truck.
He’d find her. He had to.
The woman working at the bus station recognized Rosie's picture and told Dallas she'd bought a ticket for a bus departing to Miami.
She was gone.
Dallas and Wendy had been with him all night as he searched every place he could think of to look. They'd gone to Jay's and the diner she liked. They'd gone to the park and the beach. The bus stop had been a last-ditch effort. It was the last place he wanted to look for her.
When his mother told him Rosie was sitting at the bus stop, his first thought was that she'd finally disappeared. Isn't that what he'd always thought? That he'd get too close and she'd be gone before he knew it. He’d always thought it might happen but the reality struck like a physical blow.
He squinted as the headlights from Dallas' truck hit his rear-view mirror and flashed in his eyes. Wendy was back there, too, riding with Dal and the last thing he wanted to hear was their platitudes.
Those same lines they kept giving him.
She'll come back.
She wouldn't do that.
But she would, wouldn't she. She had. Not ju
st tonight but her whole life, that's what she did. And he'd forced her hand. Again.
He pulled up to his garage, threw the truck in park and sighed.
There was a good chance he'd never see Rosie again.
Bone tired and dangerously close to losing his shit he climbed out of his truck, hoping Dal and Wendy would take a hint and just leave him alone. They didn't seem to be faring much better than he was, both of them quiet and sullen. Silently, but together, they headed toward the porch.
Dal slapped his arm. "Hey,"
Max looked at him and then at the porch when Dal pointed.
Rosie rose from the porch swing, stepping out of the shadows and into the moonlight. He slowed to a stop at the bottom of the stairs and looked up at her.
Haggard, arms wrapped around herself, bundled in a hoodie covered by a denim jacket, she looked lost.
Leave it to Dal to not mince words. "Where the hell have you been? We thought you left."
"I did," she told them quietly.
"Bought a ticket to Miami?" Max asked.
Rosie shrugged and sat on the top step.
"I didn't know what else to do."
Dal huffed. "That's the stupidest shit I've ever heard."
"Dallas!" Wendy scolded. "She's here."
Rosie looked at Max and ignored the other two. He felt her despair all the way down to his bones. Her eyes pleaded with him to understand.
"I don't know how to fix things when they break. I don't know how to solve problems. I know how to run," she shrugged, her eyes unable to hold his as she darted her eyes away and then back. "Happy runs," she shook her head. "I don't want Rosie to run."
"So, you came back," Wendy murmured with a smile.
Rosie kept looking at Max but was unable to move, somewhere between afraid to spook her and afraid he was dreaming.
"Everything Butch said about me was true. He found me on the floor of a whorehouse when I was seven. I grew up mostly in the foster care system. I lived with Butch and his wife for a while until they didn't want me anymore."
She took a deep breath and looked down at her feet.
Chasing Happy Page 31