Dear Rosie, (Love Letters #2)

The move dislodges my hand from Rosie’s shoulder, and I can see her tense, but she still makes an effort to embrace my mom in return. And it melts even more of my heart.

“So good to finally meet you, honey.” Mom steps back just a bit, then grips Rosie’s upper arms. “You’re so pretty.”

A puff of air leaves Rosie, and I know I need to rescue her. “I know, Mom, I’ve been telling you.” I reach out and tuck Rosie into my side.

My dad holds his hand out. “Nice to meet you, young lady.”

Rosie puts her palm in his, and Dad gives her one of his wide grins as they shake hands.

“Nate here won’t shut up about you,” he tells her as he lets go of her hand.

“Yeah, yeah. She already knows I’m obsessed with her.” I shake my head. “No point in trying to embarrass me.”

Mom gestures to the other woman as she steps around the table. “You remember Mr. and Mrs. Rooney?”

Once Mom says the name, it clicks. “Our old neighbors.” I nod to them.

Mrs. Rooney beams up at me, and I once again let go of Rosie and bend down for the hug she clearly wants.

“So nice of you to remember us,” the woman says as I embrace her small frame.

Straightening, I hold out my hand to Mr. Rooney. “Nice to see you again.”

His handshake is firm. “We had a hell of a time following your career. You made the old street proud.”

“Thank you,” I tell him, then move so Rosie is back at my side. “You might recall my girlfriend, Rosie Edwards. She lived on the same street, directly across from you, if I’m remembering correctly.”

ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-TWO

ROSALYN

My heart is beating wildly behind my ribs.

He’s remembering correctly.

I hold my hand out to Mrs. Rooney. And as she clasps my fingers in hers, her eyes widen, and in that moment, I know she remembers too.

Tears stream down my face as I rush out the front door.

My fingers hurt from where my dad slammed them in a drawer.

I was just looking for tape for a school project. I wasn’t looking for fucking money.

Not that there would be money in there anyway. Not in that drawer. Not anywhere.

My bare feet are silent on the cracked pavers, and I slow.

I should’ve run out the back door into the woods, but the front door was closer. And I needed to get out.

I need to get fucking out.

Pausing when I reach the sidewalk, I tip my head back and stare at the stars above, the light from the streetlamps making them hazy.

Holding my arm across my chest, I flex my fingers.

They hurt like hell, but I don’t think they’re broken.

Another round of tears spills from my eyes.