by Sabre, Mason
Chapter Twenty-Six
Josh
He knew better than to come into this room. He had. Idiot he was. Why had he done it? The half-opened curtains let in little light, although they weren’t much good as curtains. William had always hated the orange glow that came through them when the sun started to set in the evening. It illuminated the dust mites floating around the room, giving it even more emptiness than his mother’s absence ever did.
This could be Rosie’s room … that was the thought right? That was the whole reason he opened that stupid door just to check as if it would have cleaned itself up while he had been away. The bed still lay unkempt, the blankets strewn across the floor, hooked down where they had held her when she had fallen.
At the side of the room, the dirty, four drawer dresser stood with a foot missing, leaning to one side. Josh stared at it … his eyes always landing on that place, that reminder of when she had hit him and knocked him back. He’d hit his head on the already weak leg and it had given way, making the cheap trinkets on the top topple down and land on him … he’d ended up smashing her bottle, shaped like Jesus with his hands out and filled with holy water. Didn’t she know that it would take more than that to deliver her from perdition?
What had he done to deserve that one? Oh yes. He’d asked for his uniform for school and she had told him he should have cleaned it himself. Josh closed his eyes on the memories of William’s younger self. He’d learned lessons that day. Lessons that he was on his own. Absently, he raised his hand to the spot on his head where he had slammed into the dresser. The gash was long gone now, but the internal scars were still there, nice and fresh.
He pulled William’s phone from his pocket as he marched over to the window and threw open the curtains. Rosie was at her car, fumbling with her keys, her light dress floating around her in the soft breeze. She was the kind of woman his mother had never been. She dropped her key and Josh smiled, watching her.
Before he realised it, he hit dial on William’s phone and Rosie leaned in and grabbed her mobile phone. She sat there, talking to him and he stepped back out of view. She reached into that part of him, the way she spoke, the kindness in her words. Biggest problem was, it was for William. But his mind was eased all the same.
When the call finished, he stared at the phone, his chest heaving at what had just happened. Fucking William. God damn him. He paced blindly, her words echoing in his head. I’m not moving one step until you finish this. Finish what? Finish how? What was she expecting? What did she want with William? Why did he matter?
William didn’t deserve shit. He didn’t have a tiny bit of what it would take to make sure she was safe. He’d only hurt her like he hurt everything. Ruin her like he ruined everything. The whore’s son wasn’t about to have Rosie. Josh was, and William had better find a way to deal with that.
He turned, casting his eyes across the room as he clutched the phone to his chest, digging it in against his ribs and ignoring the pain from it. Josh leapt onto the bed, dashing over it. He yanked the top drawer open, pulling it out with such force that it crashed onto the floor. Old lipsticks, cheap bottles of perfume, nail files, false nails, fake eyelashes all spilled onto the floor. He grabbed hold of the old tatty braid of hair. How many times William had stood and watched his mother as she had attached it to her hair and let it drape down her back. She had been beautiful, once. She couldn’t see it, though.
Josh threw it aside before William could grab hold of it, proving William was too weak, too pathetic to be normal. He’d hold onto the past because he didn’t want to leave it. He loved the past, he loved wading around in it, that’s all he ever did.
His hands rested on the long cold metal of what he was searching for … his mother’s knife ... no. William’s mother’s knife. She had kept it always under her pillow. Always after that night anyway. After William had found her. She’d been slumped in the same place. He’d heard her screaming, yelling at the man to get off her.
Flicking the knife open, Josh pulled up his sleeve. “You will leave me alone. You will,” he said to William. He pressed the blunted blade to his flesh, pressing it down until the skin went white from the force of it. He angled the tip, pushing it in so that the skin broke with a slight pop. The sound shot a tingle through his very centre, electricity rushing through his veins and chasing William out. He sucked in a breath, clenched his teeth and pulled the blade backwards along his arm. Exhaling harshly, he shoved William out, refused him to stay. He was not here for this ride. Rosie was his and he needed to leave her alone.
“Josh,” she called from the bottom of the stairs. Her sweet voice … so perfect, just like her, pulled him from William’s grasp. He’d fallen to his knees, the blade lying on the stained carpet and blood dripping down to his hand.
“Shit.” He looked around and yanked tissues from the box on the floor and patted his arm, blotting up the blood. “Just a second,” he called back as he rose, his eyes locking with his reflections in the cracked mirror on the dresser. He breathed hard, his face twisted at the sight. William stared back at him in numb defiance. “No,” Josh said. “No.”
“I let the cat out of the car,” she called. “She shot out and I have no clue where she’s gone, probably off gallivanting with Stitches,” she mumbled before saying louder, “Bringing my bag upstairs, okay?”
She couldn’t come in here. He gave his arm one last clean and pulled his sleeve back down.
“I’ll carry it,” he said, rushing out of the room, pulling the door firmly closed behind him. Rosie was already at the top of the stairs just as he turned from locking it, smiling at him.
“I … er.” She bit down on her lip the way he noticed when she was nervous. It made him want to go to her and take her in his arms. It made him want to protect her from the world. “It’s a little bit heavy,” she said.
“I’ll get it for you,” he smiled at her. “Sorry. I was just coming. I had forgotten how packed that room was and was checking if it would be useable.”
“And the verdict?”
“Few spiders might have moved in … and mice.”
“Mice?”
Josh laughed. She was so damn easy to tease. “I don’t think even mice would fit in there. It’s so full of junk.” He walked over to her, dropping the key into his pocket. “Let’s get your bag up here, shall we?”
He let her go down before him. She had hauled in three bags with her … she’d brought them in by herself too.
“I had no idea I owned so much stuff. Not that I brought everything,” she hurried in her boisterous way as she turned near the bags by the door. “Are you sure it’s okay to use your room? I don’t mind the couch. I hate putting you out.”
Maybe she didn’t want to share the room. “I don’t mind. I can use the sofa if you prefer.”
“Oh. No …”
“It’s okay if you don’t want to share. I won’t be offended.”
“No, no. It isn’t that.”
He smirked at the way she stuttered over her words. “Okay, hands up, honestly. I don’t mind sharing my room with you. Okay?”
“Yes,” she nodded with a smile. “I don’t mind sharing either.”
“Good. Now that it’s sorted out, let’s get your things upstairs.” Josh grabbed the first and biggest bag. Jesus Christ it was heavy. “Shit,” he said. “How on earth did you get that in here?” he laughed.
“With great difficulty.”
“What do you have in it?”
“Shoes and stuff,” she laughed back. “Mostly shoes,” she admitted.
He lugged the bag all the way up the stairs, his muscles burning from the effort of it. What was it with women and shoes? He hoped that she was actually joking. “Is there anything else you need to get from home? Kitchen sink?”
“Oh my God,” she cried. “Like I don’t feel bad enough, thank you.”
He laughed, loving the hell out of teasing her.
“And no,” she said, taking the final steps to the top. “
This is all of it.”
“It is?”
She stopped on the landing and eyed him looking confused. “I haven’t been here so long, I’m building up.”
Josh realized she thought he was saying she didn’t have a lot. Well done idiot. Always saying the wrong thing. “I meant to double check. We want to make sure or how else would your mother believe you lived here?”
He waited for that to sink in, hoping he’d not accidentally made it worse. Shit. Judging by her confused look still, he’d failed. He left the bag at his door and took the two smaller bags out of her hand.
“Josh … I can carry them,” she whined.
“Follow me, madam,” he said in his best butler voice.
“You’re very bossy,” she said, behind him, though her tone was joking.
“Yes. Get used to it.” He set the bags down and opened the door. He hauled the bags into the room and shut the door, closing them in. Rosie stayed by the door, her back to it. His mind raced with what he was going to say or do to show her that she was totally welcome here. “You feel guilty right? A burden?”
“Yes.”
“Right.”
“Josh.”
“But you’re not. Okay. Look at this room. I’ve a bed. Desk with my laptop. A chest of drawers with all of my clothes.” He pointed to the other wall. “Bookshelves that hold my books and comics. This is my life, here in this one room. All of it.”
“And I’m invading it,” she said, pained.
“No,” he said, turning to her and taking hold of her hand. “You’re making it beautiful.”
The look on her face froze him, making him realise how heavy those words were. But they were the kind of true words that had to be said just like the sun had to shine every day. “Also, come and look at this,” he said softly, leading her to the window overlooking the garden. “All of that out there. It’s a mess. You’re going to help me. I’m going to wear your pretty ass out and you will earn every second you stay in this room.”
The radiant smile on her face said he’d finally said something right. “I have to pay you to be my boyfriend?” She glanced from him to the garden down below.
“Of course,” he muttered arrogantly with a hand on his chest. “There’s many other ways to pay me if you don’t like gardening.”
Her face turned red and she pulled her hand free of his, placing them on her hips. “You need to behave,” she whispered, though her body language said no such thing. He wanted to laugh, but held it in. Shit, he could just lean in right now and kiss her. He stepped closer just as she stepped back. “I’ll go get my things while you learn to behave.”
She left him standing there at the window, his mind scattered. Maybe he was reading everything wrong. I’ll not move one step until you do. Her words came to him. She’d probably meant in that way. The idea that she’d want William and not him hit him for the first time, sending anger boiling in his blood. Like hell he’d let that happen. He needed to try a little harder as Josh, that’s all. She only felt sorry for William.
She was back at the door moments later, red faced and pulling the large suitcase with her. It stuck at the door.
He dashed to the door, feeling like an idiot. “Let me get that.” He pushed the door farther back on its hinges to make space. He yanked the bulging thing through, sure the bloody thing would pop open like a jack in the box the moment she moved the zip.
“Sorry,” she said, following behind him.
“It’s okay.” He dragged it across the floor to the bed.
“Josh …” she said alarmed, grabbing hold of his arm. “Stop. You’re bleeding.”
Shit.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Rosie
Rosie’s heart hammered at the sight of blood.
“It’s nothing.”
She looked up at him, confused with his casual tone. “What happened? It looks bad.”
“It’s not.” He pulled his arm out of her hold, grabbing the other bags and hauling them into the room. She stared as he set them next to the bed.
“Well it looks pretty bad,” she tried again as he looked around the room.
“Just a nick from when I was trying to clean that room. It’s nothing.” He slid the sleeve up and dabbed at it while Rosie made her way closer for a look. He yanked the sleeve down when she reached his side.
“Let me see,” she cried.
“Why? It’s just a scrape,” he cried back in light assurance before gesturing to her bags. “I’m sure you’d like to unpack. I’ll leave you to it.”
She grabbed his arm and held tight. “Let. Me. See,” she whispered firmly, adding raised brows at his rolling eyes. When he didn’t pull his arm away she took it as silent permission and slid the sleeve up carefully. “Oh my God. A scratch? This looks like you ran your arm across a knife blade.”
“It actually was a knife blade. Was wedged in the crack of the drawer.” He lifted his arm, examining it before sliding the sleeve back down. “Sliced me perfectly. It’s what I get for hurrying.”
“Did you put anything on it?”
“Of course.” She waited with raised brows and he went on with a shrug, “I spit on it like always.” Her mouth dropped and he laughed, “What? Saliva is best for that.”
“Ewww!” She smacked him on his good arm and the cute smile he gave reminded her she would make a terrible nurse to him. She turned to her bags. “I’ll unpack.”
“I’ll go change my shirt and get us lunch.”
“Oh, I can cook?”
He gave her another one of his mind altering smiles. “You probably should be practicing cooking for me. I’ll let you do tea.”
“Tea,” she said, biting her lower lip to hide a smile.
“You’re laughing at me.” Light offense dancing in his sparkly blue eyes.
“I’m not,” she said, unable to keep from laughing.
“Right,” he nodded, turning to go then turning back with his brows pinched. “What is it you mutts call tea in America?”
“Mutts!” She let her laughter rip.
“Bastards of the Queen? Sister sluts?”
She fought to be offended, gasping with wide eyes. “Okay Mr. Hoity Toity, is that how it is?” She grabbed a pillow from the bed and turned to throw it. “Yeah, you better haul tail, Chief Running Bull,” she yelled. “Run to your Queen!”
She turned with a huge smile and began unpacking her bags. God, felt like she was on vacation at some exotic island. On another planet. In another galaxy. She looked around at the room. His room. She felt nauseous with excitement just being in it. Her smile faded as William’s voice and laugh floated in her mind. She closed her eyes, her stomach tightening. How could she stand there and have the exact feelings for two men? She considered them. No, they weren’t exact. She’d not even met William in person but when she thought about him, thought of that phone call—from the very first—there was no denying the rush of emotions that gripped her.
And Josh was … well he was sweet and gorgeous and in her face. She couldn’t think past what he was.
With monumental effort, she shook off the gloom and went about the task of figuring out where to put her stuff. She wanted to put it right alongside of his but that would be weird. Although … if her sister happened to come up there or her nosy mother, she’d want it to appear like they were actually together.
Rosy went about sticking her random belongings here and there in a natural messy order. When she was down to only her clothes, she went to the closet and hung the things she’d packed, hangers and all. She stared at his clothes, hanging in the closet. He didn’t have much. Unlike her. Something told her it was a matter of taste for him, not poverty. Obviously.
Down to intimate apparel and casual clothes now. She turned to his chest of drawers, eyeing it. So personal. Yeah. His underwear and stuff would be in that. She glanced at the door as she made her way to the drawers and opened the top one. Jam packed, wow. She didn’t feel right digging through the jumbled chaos of material a
nd opened the second one to find the same. And the third. The fourth and fifth were not as bad.
She moved all the clothes from the bottom drawer into the second to last one, having to cram the last few pieces. Now it matched the other drawers. Soon, the fifth one did as well after she shoved her final pair of panties in. “There,” she gasped, breathless. Ah, shit. She needed to change into something suitable to work in.
She began removing clothes until she found a pair of blue jean cut off shorts. Cut off short and crooked, but that was okay. She chose her dingy, old, pink t-shirt with the ratty edges and took everything to the bathroom to change.
Tennis shoes on, hair in a pony-tail, she galloped her way down the stairs. The smell of fish and something fried hit her nose and starving stomach instantly. “Yum,” she sang, as she entered the kitchen.
Josh turned from the stove, wearing a black shirt, reminding her of what needed to be resolved. Her and him. Knowing his actual feelings would help. Unlike the light blue shirt with the tails, this showed off his body. She realized suddenly that he was staring at her out-fit and she gripped the door jamb tightly while waiting for the verdict.
“Outside work clothes,” she announced, her sneakers squeaking loudly on the floor as she shifted nervously in place.
“Right,” he said, looking suddenly confused.
“I thought we were working outside,” she said, worried she’d done something wrong. “I mean it’s okay if we’re not, I can change.”
“No. Yes,” he stuttered, perplexed.
“No, yes,” she laughed, too loudly as she stuffed her hands in her back pockets.
“Sorry,” he said, seeming to gather his scattered thoughts. “It’s perfect,” he added, making her smile when he continued staring. “For outside yard work, yes.”
She couldn’t stop grinning at the unspoken compliment he was still giving her. “What smells so good?”
