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My mum died before I really knew her, my dad didn’t want me, then my nanna died, I finally got boyfriends…then they broke my trust and got me fired, then he took me and…no, I’m not opening that box again.

I just need a break.

I haven’t even reached my thirties yet. Compared to some, that means I might only be a third of the way through my lifetime. But I’m so fucking tired already. It shouldn’t be this hard. This painful.

“Talk to me?” he pushes when I’ve stayed silent too long.

“I can’t see why he would feel any guilt. I don’t blame him for any of it.”

“Doesn’t mean he doesn’t, though,” Noah murmurs.

I pause when the urge to deny it again rises. Is that really why he’s closed off? To me, it makes more sense that he would reject me because of what happened. Because I feel disgusted. I’d remove my skin if I could. Is that me projecting how I feel onto him? Especially as they’ve known him for so much longer than I have.

“Should I…talk to him?” I ask, needing Noah to guide me in the right thing to do. None of my instincts are trustworthy anymore.

“I think communication is going to be important for us all, no matter how hard it feels.”

I tilt my face up to meet his, and my eyes flutter closed as his fingers brush back my hair.

“Please?” I surprise us both by asking, flicking my gaze down to his lips.

“Rosy…”

I cut him off before he can list his hesitations. “Please.”

His exhale caresses my lips, then he slowly leans in and presses his mouth to mine, fleeting and tender.

I didn’t ask for it to be anything sexual—I’m not ready to consider that. But I need the connection, to let the love he feels for me leak into my body and help fortify against the darkness swirling inside me. Because all of these reassuring, heartfelt words he’s been confessing…I can hear them, but I can’t feel them.

I needed to just feel him.

“Thank you,” I whisper, tucking my head back against his chest.

TWENTY-THREE

NATE

A knock echoes from our front door. Immediately I stand, caught between wanting to go check on Rosy and ripping the door open to see who it is.

I know it’s not going to be fucking Peter. He’s not going to suddenly emerge from hiding, so I can smash his face in. But tell that to the adrenaline racing through my veins.

Air smacks against my face from the speed I whip the door open. “It’s you.”

“You’d make an effective guard dog,” Steph snaps back at me, but it digs deep into my chest. If that were true, my girl wouldn’t have been taken in the first place. I would’ve kept her safe.

Still uncomfortable from the feel of her words, my reply comes out more harshly than I intended. “She’s asleep.”

“Nate,” Bry says drily from behind me. “Let her in.”

I wasn’t intentionally blocking her fucking path. Apparently it looks that way. I step back and hold the door open for her to enter.

Bry offers her an unsteady smile and holds his arms out. Steph lets him wrap her in a tight embrace. Some of the weight falls from her, and she lets out a quiet sob.

“Sorry.” She sniffs. Untangling herself from Bry, she scrubs both hands down her face.

Max watches from the sofa, a dejected grimace on his face.

“Is she…can I…” Steph struggles, still sniffling with tear-filled eyes.