Dear Rosie, (Love Letters #2)

I never wanted to put this on him.

“You weren’t supposed to read those.” I can’t raise my voice above a whisper. “They’re nothing.”

“Don’t,” he snaps. And it’s loud in the silent room.

I wince, the noise too loud against my pounding skull.

“Fuck.” Nathan drops his voice to a whisper. “Fuck, I’m sorry. But don’t pretend they’re nothing.”

Nathan slides off the chair, his knees landing on the hard floor.

“Careful.” I try to lift my arm to stop him, but my limbs are too heavy.

Nathan shuffles forward, putting us eye to eye.

“I’m not going to be careful, Rosalyn Kay Edwards. I know we just found each other again. But I’m here now, and I’m not going to be fucking careful.” He grips the edge of the bed, leaning toward me, our faces inches apart. “I’m here. And I don’t want you to pretend anymore. Please don’t pretend anymore.”

I think about that first moment when I opened the door and saw it was him.

How I pretended not to know him.

How I pretended seeing him wasn’t exactly what I needed.

How I pretended my past wasn’t awful.

How I pretended to be okay with casual.

How I pretended that just being near him wasn’t healing something inside me.

“I’m sorry,” I choke out, my voice loud to my own ears as my words turn to sobs.

My head throbs with each beat of my heart, but I finally get my arms to move, and I cover my face with my hands.

“No, Beautiful. No apologizing.” Warm fingers wrap gently around my wrists. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

His kindness only makes the tears come faster.

He never changed.

In all this time, with all his success, he never changed.

Nathan slowly pulls my hands away from my face. “Please stop crying. Your head has to be killing you.”

It is.

I try to shake my head, to deny it, but it hurts too bad to move.

“Shh.” He guides my hands down until they’re resting on my stomach. “I’ve had enough concussions to know what your head feels like right now. Shut your eyes.”

I do as he says. Then I feel his fingers ghost over my temples, lightly brushing away my tears.

EIGHTY-ONE

NATE

It only takes a minute for her breathing to even out. For her features to relax.

I lightly place my hand over her heart, feeling it beat beneath my palm as I lean my forehead onto the bed beside her.