86. Nate

EIGHTY-SIX

NATE

Rosie's asleep by the time I get the blankets pulled up over her.

Charles jumps onto the bed—having meowed and bumped against my legs the whole way across the condo—and moves to stand beside Rosie.

"I know, bud." I pass a palm down his back, applying pressure when he arches into my hand. "She'll be okay."

I try to believe my words as I go through the motions of getting ready for bed.

Physically, she'll recover.

But the things she's been through…

I leave a trail of clothes across the closet and grab the first pair of sleep pants I can find.

From the way she worded things in those letters… I don't think she's told anyone.

I don't think anyone knows how much she's suffered.

My fists clench.

I broke my arm. I had to tell the doctor I fell.

Her dad shoved her to the ground, and she had to fucking lie about it.

I can't imagine how that must've felt. To be in pain, surrounded by a hospital full of people, but to still be alone.

Those doctors failed her.

Society failed her.

I turn off the lights and cross to the bed.

I failed her.

I get into bed as slowly as possible, not wanting to wake her.

Under the blankets, I roll onto my side, facing my Rosie.

She's on her back, face turned away from me, hands folded on her chest.

I scoot closer.

I need to touch her.

When she let me help her change, I had to grit my teeth at all the bruises and scrapes that covered her body.

The side of her thigh.

Her knees.

Her arms.

Her ankle.

I wanted to scream at the injustice of it all.

Hasn't she been through enough?

I slide my hand across the inches between us, then gently rest it on her stomach. The one place I know it's safe to touch.

And with my shame hidden in the darkness, I cry.

I did earlier.

Couldn't stop myself when I was reading those fucking letters.

But I was still trying to hold back.

I still had things to do.

But now, with her in my bed, with her visible wounds treated, I let out the pent-up rage.

The panic.

The sorrow.

The fucking guilt.

Charles clunks his hard skull against mine .

I grunt.

He does it again.

I lift a hand toward him. "Five more minutes."

Teeth lightly close around my pointer finger.

I open my eyes. "What the fu?—"

But then I stop chastising my cat because I see her .

Rosie is draped across me.

Her hair is spread across my chest. The deep red strands look perfect against my bare skin.

Her left knee is hitched up over my thigh, and I can feel the edges of her new ankle brace against my shin.

She has a hand wedged between her body and my side, and I can only hope it's comfortable for her.

I don't know when we changed positions, but my arm is tucked around her back. The subconscious part of me just as aware of the fact that I need her close.

I flex my arm, just a little, to hold her closer.

Her back rises with a slow inhale.

I lift my head and press a kiss to the top of her hair, and Charles drops his hold of my finger before he steps up onto my stomach.

He's already purring when he curls up on my body. Just above Rosie's knee.

With the arm not around Rosie, I reach down and scratch Charles behind the ears.

This damn cat is getting just as attached to Rosie as I am.

I open my eyes.

The buzzing continues, and my brain finally clicks on.

I dart my hand out to grab my phone off the nightstand and tap the screen to send the call to voicemail.

The phone stops vibrating, and I look down at the woman still sprawled across me to make sure she didn't wake up.

Once I confirm her breathing is still steady, I relax .

Charles, however, is staring at me out of one eye.

Sorry, I mouth to him.

In response, he stretches his front legs, flexing his paws and jabbing me with his little claws.

I slip my phone under his paws, stopping the attempted stabbing.

Bitch, I mouth this time.

My phone buzzes once, and I snatch it back away from my body, not wanting the vibration to somehow transfer through my body and wake up Rosie.

I look at the screen.

Hannah: I know you're off today, but we have that call with the potential merger people in ten.

Me: I'll be there.

Hannah: I emailed you a breakdown of all the numbers.

Me: Appreciate it.

Fucking hell. I forgot all about that damn call.

I look back down at my sleeping girl.

No part of me wants to get up. But if I cancel the call, I'll just have to reschedule it—probably within the next few weeks while she's still here. So if I can do it while Rosie's sleeping, then that's probably the best option.

Using the top edge of my phone, I nudge Charles.

He doesn't react.

I nudge him again, and he turns his head away from me.

I nudge him harder. "Get up, you furry fuck," I whisper as quietly as possible.

Charles yawns.

I pull out the big guns.

"Hungry?"

His head pops up.

That's what I thought.

I gesture with my chin for him to get up, and he finally listens .

He stands on his little orange paws, slowly turning around and swooshing his tail in my face before jumping off the bed.

The attitude on this feline.

With one obstacle out of the way, I start to slide myself away from my warm Little Rose.

She makes a small noise but doesn't wake as I replace my body with pillows. Tucking one under her cheek and another under her knee, leaving her in the same position.

Charles bonks his forehead into my leg, reminding me I promised him food, then with my phone in hand, I stride out of the room, famished cat in tow.