by Sabre, Mason
He tapped the pen on the paper. Whatever happens, happens, he thought to himself. That was what Carly said right? We can’t control things. We can’t worry about what if. He scribbled down Josh Carter before he had a moment to change his mind. If he got turned down because of it, then he’d decide what to do.
His phone buzzed again, a text message this time. Annoyed, he yanked his phone out, ready to fire off his excuses when he saw Rosie’s number. His heart leapt a moment when he saw her name and the message. I’m really sorry.
Really sorry what? You can’t have the job? Get lost I never want to see you again?
He pushed his worrying heart to one side, swallowing hard. He clicked open to read the rest of the message.
I’m really sorry about earlier. I hope everything is okay with your friend. Give me a call when you’re done with the forms.
His heart beat so fast in his chest that he had to take a breath just to steady it. This was what Maria did to him. She made him worry about shit that didn’t matter. She came in and took from him, spoilt all those moments. She had spoilt today.
I’m doing them now. He went to reply and then deleted it.
Maybe she’d want to meet later … or maybe she wouldn’t.
Don’t worry about it. He deleted that too. Maybe she’d take that as she’d done something wrong.
Okay. He texted back in the end.
The forms would be done soon and then he would drop them off at the hospital. He glanced at his watch. It wasn’t too late. It would be hours before Rosie was there, right? He didn’t want to bump into her just now. He needed time to sort himself out. Make it that Maria couldn’t bother him. Make it that his house was done.
He filled the forms in, stuffed them in his pocket and mounted his bike again, his head clearer. Maria wasn’t going to take anything else from him.
At the hospital, he parked his bike in the disabled space out front. It didn’t matter that he didn’t have a badge. He was nipping in and out. The receptionist glared at him as he sauntered in, helmet in hand. Maybe she recognised him. He hoped not. He let his smile widen as he got closer, disguising the sad and pathetic William she might have remembered.
“I need to drop this in for the helpline,” he said, explaining himself. “Rosie asked me to get it back to her.” Well she’d asked to meet, but that was beside the point. This way she could get it, there was no time wasted and no options for anything that might happen to come along and fuck things right up.
“Rosie Babineaux?” she asked, her face relaxing a little with the mention of a name. Babineaux? Rosie Babineaux. Different and fitting. Maybe this girl was a friend of Rosie’s, although, she didn’t seem like Rosie’s type. Rosie was shy, sweet. This woman, her clothes were loud, her hair bright yellow. She looked like someone who went home, drank wine and demanded her husband pay her attention. “I can give them to her if you want to pass them to me.”
Nodding, he pulled the forms out. “I er…” Idiot. He didn’t have an envelope. “I have nothing to put them in.”
“It’s okay,” she said, holding out a perfectly manicured hand as she smiled at him. “I’ll see Rosie gets this.”
He wanted to tell her no so that he could seal the forms up and just hand over an envelope. The receptionist smiled a perfect red smile at him. “Thank you,” he said giving in and handing them to her.
Chapter Sixteen
Rosie
Skipping work and skipping out on saving lives didn’t improve Rosie’s self-disgust. She should’ve known she wasn’t skipping out on any problem but rather adding to it. Another shovel of shit on the grave dug. Pat pat on the back.
The idea of faking one ounce of joy or positive thinking for anybody would mean she’d have to move that mountain of crap suffocating her. Lifting that would require her to think about the Josh and Maria catastrophe and do acrobat after acrobat of lying because lying is exactly what it was. It was bullshit tricks. Doing it for the world, for the sake of drawing positive energy was one thing, but for herself? No. She couldn’t use the bullshit tricks on herself, not tonight. She couldn’t handle another ounce of it.
That left her sitting on the floor between the ratty recliner and the wobbly pressboard end table in the dark. If she reached up and turned the lamp on and off, on and off, she’d be that obsessed woman in that movie, the bunny boiler. The idiot who couldn’t go on because some married asshole had fucked her and realized she was a mistake. Well, it felt just as shitty.
Just when she thought it couldn’t get worse, it occurred to her. What if he was married?
Why did she have to always torment herself with all the worst scenarios? Oh right. Because she’d already done the whole think positive bit where men were concerned. Then she discovered the worst was true. By then, she’d already invested herself. Nobody told her when a person invests certain parts of themselves into another person, they don’t get that back. All those stupid pieces of her heart she’d given were non-refundable. Now she was stuck living with missing pieces of herself.
So really, it was damn smart to think of the worst case scenarios.
A light buzzing sound startled her out of her abysmal psychological moping. The noise didn’t register at first and then she gasped at realizing what it was.
Her phone.
It rang so rarely; she’d forgotten the sound it made. Mostly she texted the few people she stayed in contact with. Her heart pounded as she ran to the wall where her purse hung and dug her phone out. She stared at the number, her brows drawing in confusion. Who was it? She answered, sure it was a wrong number.
“Rosie?”
Her lips parted with a light gasp. “W-William?” Joy surged through her veins as she smiled and paced in small circles.
“You weren’t at work tonight,” he said.
God, his voice. So soothing. “I … I’m sorry, I couldn’t go.” She bit her lip and closed her eyes. Of all people to not be there for, he was the last one she’d ever want to let down.
“What’s wrong, Rosie?”
The tender concern in his voice was like a surgeon’s blade. It sliced her wide open and she gasped when she felt all the shit on the inside surging forth to spill right out of her.
“Rosie, talk to me,” he said, finishing her off.
She stood immobilized in her home, straining to breathe and think around the mess he’d just made with only a couple of words. No, it wasn’t just the words, it was the concern in them. The genuine caring. He cared, and wow, if that didn’t just unhinge her psyche.
“Take your time,” he whispered.
She gushed a sob, like an idiot. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I’m usually not like this.”
“What happened? Please tell me.”
What happened. What happened. Yes, what happened Rosie? “It’s really so stupid,” she squeaked in an effort not to sob again.
“It’s not stupid, it’s never stupid, don’t say that.”
She nodded that it was stupid. “You see, I’m … I’m my worst enemy.”
“Rosie?”
“Yes?”
“You’re talking to the guru of self-harming. My body is like a pin cushion only; I don’t use pins.”
Rosie’s laugh gushed out. “I’m so sorry, that’s not funny.”
“I missed your laugh Rosie,” he said softly.
Her heart hammered in her chest as she fought to regain her composure. “I shouldn’t laugh at that,” was all she could think to say.
“You know,” he said, sounding curious. “The cuts on my body never gave me any lasting relief, but … your laughter … I can’t explain it Rosie. When I hear it, it’s like every slice counted for something.”
“Wow,” she said, her voice tiny and strained. “You should come work down at the center,” she barely managed past the lump in her throat. “You’re good.” He gave a low chuckle that sounded … happy. “How have you been?” she hurried, really needing to not think about everything he made her feel. “I’ve been
taking one day at a time,” he said.
“Good,” she smiled and nodded, hurrying to the kitchen to put on the kettle. “That’s so good to hear, William.”
“What have you been up to?” he asked.
She let out a small laugh, turning on the water. “Well …” God she wanted to tell him about what happened. “It’s just same old stuff, really.”
“Tell me,” he said.
The soft compelling in his voice brought the words right there. She debated which to say and how to say them as she loaded the grinds in a fresh filter. “I went on a date.” Yes, blurt it right out, Rosie, stop dancing.
“A date,” he said, sounding … what was that sound she heard. Curious? Joy? Joy would be good, she’d kind of worried he was a stalker and obsessing. If he was happy for her, that would mean good things. “I want to hear all about it, Rosie,” he said.
That was definitely joy. She didn’t understand her feelings though. She should be happy he was happy about that and sure she actually was. “Oh, it was just the usual disaster. Me overthinking everything.”
“Oh, Rosie, you’re talking to the guru of overthinking.”
She let her laugh out, needing a release valve for all the turmoil inside her. “Stop bragging,” she joked. Before she could regret it, his laughter filled her ear and made her really smile. “Wow. I think your laughter just took first place.”
“Rosie,” he said, finally. “You have no idea how happy you make me. But don’t worry, I promise not to be your next restraining order.”
She giggled at the humor in his tone, happy he liked joking like this. Humor was her strong suit, her life raft in the storm. “Well, you seem to make the perfect friend, being the guru of so many kinds of catastrophes. We could teach one another.”
More laughter that had her grinning. “We could maybe write a book.”
She busted out in cackles. “Yes. A how-to manual for offing yourself.”
In the middle of laughter, he said, “Or The Guru’s Guide to Not Giving a Damn.”
“Thank you,” Rosie finally said after a few seconds. “For calling. Was perfect timing, I was on a ledge.”
“It’s nice to pay back the favor,” he said, his tone going back to that soothing tenor. She was sure she could fall asleep to the sound. “Tell me what happened on your date, sweet Rosie. I bet you misread everything.”
Chapter Seventeen
Josh
Josh leaned back against the headboard, crossing his legs over at the ankles. The relief in him was sudden, the moment he had heard her voice. He had called the helpline and some bloke had answered, making him wretch inside. He had hung up right away, heart pounding, blood rushing through his veins. He called back a second time and this time it was a woman, but it wasn’t Rosie. He couldn’t ask for her by name either, it was against policy. He knew that and she would be fired … if one could get fired from a voluntary job that was. He would manage to somehow cause that; he was good at that shit.
It took him a good hour to call her mobile. First he had made coffee, then a sandwich. Then he played with the new phone he’d picked up on the way home. Programming numbers into it and agonizing over the two phones and the two parts of himself that wanted to reach out to her for different reasons. After a good hour, he dumped the cold coffee down the drain and made himself another one. Why wasn’t she there? What was wrong? She’d lied to him hadn’t she? Said she needed to work tonight and she didn’t. This as the case with all women, they lied, all the god damn time and he was the jerk that had fallen for it.
He’d paced a while, his sandwich threatening to make a second appearance. Leaning against his wardrobe, he slammed his head forward, bashing his forehead off the hard wood. Idiot. That was him. Always the damn fool.
It was while standing there, after smacking his head for the third time and finding no relief, he had reached for the blade on his cabinet, but instead he had seen Rosie’s number, scribbled on a piece of paper. She wouldn’t have given it to him if she didn’t want him to call, right?
No, you dumb shit, she wanted William to call, not Josh. It was Josh she lied to. How did this happen? How could William the loser possibly be the one to get the girl?
Josh grabbed his phone and sat on his bed, staring at the screen, piece of paper in his hand. He flicked it back and forth. Call her, don’t call her. Let William die … this was all Maria’s fault, always her fault.
Putting his phone down and the paper, Josh got up, paced and glared out of the window for a moment.
He clutched his head. This wasn’t him. This wasn’t how he thought. Josh, William, Maria, like a triangle of crap all managing to mess everything up. Snatching up the paper and his phone again, Josh punched the numbers in and pressed call before he could change his mind
“Rosie?” he said shocked that she had picked up.
“W-William?” she said and his heart soared just at the sound of her voice. God it was so beautiful. Enough to light up any of his days. He couldn’t keep the smile from his face as he leaned back on the bed, a calmness settling into his skin, turning down the fire that had been raging just a moment ago. He listened to her as she talked, he listened to her as she laughed—as he made her laugh. He didn’t even care that it wasn’t Josh, it was William, but it all made him ache inside, hearing the hurt in her tone.
“Tell me what happened on your date, sweet Rosie. I bet you misread everything,” he soothed, lowering his voice to disguise it. Maybe all wasn’t lost for Josh.
“I screwed up,” she blurted out in that way she had. “I …”
“Tell me.”
“I’m such an idiot.”
He smiled and relaxed. She didn’t recognise the voice. “I doubt that. Emotions get in the way of our brains sometimes.”
“Mine do, all the time.” Josh loved the way she spoke, the softness of her accent. He could listen to it all night, especially on those dark nights. It was like hearing a smile, but words instead. “It wasn’t even a real date. I mean. It wasn’t a date. I just …”
“What?”
“I misread it all maybe. His name is Josh. He wants to come and work on the helpline and we met for coffee to talk about it. And oh my God, he gets there, right? And he’s this … hunk.” She gasped before whispering. “I was not prepared for that.” Josh’s smile hurt his face as she went on. “Then we went for a ride on his bike and ended up back at his house. I don’t know. Maybe it wasn’t a date.” She paused for breath, sounding like it agonized her. “I’m such an idiot, right? I mean the guy probably was just being nice or trying to get a job, and there I was all over him. He smelled so good,” she mumbled as if in tormented memory to herself. “Then this woman calls,” she said, her voice turning harder. “His girlfriend probably, or wife, mother of his child.”
“He has children?”
“He might,” she strained out.
Josh chucked. “Rosie.”
“What,” she said softly, sadly maybe. Sad … he didn’t ever want to hear that tone in her voice.
“So he took you to his house, right?”
“Yes.”
“On his bike?” When the words left his mouth he tried to think if she had said bike, maybe she hadn’t, shit. He paused, waiting for what she would say.
“Right and we ended up at his house, just sitting on the swing.” She sighed longingly it seemed. “Was so amazing.”
“Well let me tell you something,” Josh said, shuffling down on the bed and resting his head against his arm, beyond thrilled to hear how she’d actually felt. “If it were me and we met for coffee, I would want to spend more time with you. So I would ask you if you wanted to do something together. Is that what he did?” he skirted around, trying not to sound like he knew too much.
“Yes, but,” she paused. She was moving. He heard the soft sound of her footsteps over the phone.
“But?”
“Well, why would he want to spend time with me?”
“Because you’re wonderful. Mayb
e he saw that.”
“William … I.”
“What is it?”
“I tried to call him. Twice, and he hung up on me.”
Josh sat up straight. Shit, that was her? His stomach knotted.
“Then he just replied Okay, when I sent him a message. If that isn’t a sign that he isn’t interested, I don’t know what is.”
“Maybe he was busy,” Josh suggested quickly. “He’d had to run off.”
“Did I tell you that?”
Crap. Josh pushed himself off his bed. Shit. “Yes. You must have. I …” way to go there William, mess this one up too. Can’t blame Maria for it.
Rosie sighed down the other end before he could dig himself an even bigger hole. “Yes, of course, right.” She puffed out air, sighing some more. “Sorry, I’m such a drag tonight.” Josh struggled with how to put things back on track. “Hey,” she called to him.
“Yes?”
“You called the helpline tonight, right?”
“Yes,” he said cautiously, wondering where this was going and waiting for her to tell him not to call her personal number again.
“Is everything okay? I mean, if you called ...”
“Oh … yeah. I’m fine. I… just needed to hear your voice. I’m okay.” He hadn’t cut today, which was good, but he had slammed his head into the wardrobe, which was not so great, but it wasn’t the same. “Maybe you should text this bloke again. Ask him for a proper date.”
She laughed sarcastically. “Yeah, he’ll probably run a mile. Not even reply this time.”
“You never know.”
“I’ll wait for him to text me.”
Josh stared at his other phone, Josh’s phone. The urge to text Rosie right then and make her feel better made his fingers twitch. He tapped them on the screen. Would she know? She wouldn’t, would she? She’d not have a clue. He clicked the other phone open, scrolled to messages.
