Rose (6 page)

Dear God, I don’t want to show this stunning man what I’ve done. My knees clamp together, and Max, as if feeling the tension in my body, steps closer and takes over. His hand grips mine and moves it away from my injury. After Matt moves another chair in front of me, he pulls a pair of gloves from the black bag he brought and puts them on. In a clinically detached way that makes me absurdly grateful, he eases my legs apart to get a better look. The cut is still seeping blood as he probes it with his fingers. I see the moment he takes stock of the plethora of silvery scars below it. A glance so quick that I wonder if I’ve imagined it passes between the two men before Max clears his throat and asks, “What do you need me to do?”

Matt gets back to his feet and throws his gloves in the trash can. He rummages through his bag, bringing a vial and a syringe out first then something that looks like a staple gun, as well as a couple of sealed packets. He puts on another pair of gloves before quickly cleaning the cut and the surrounding area. The sting of pain is strangely welcome, yet it’s odd to be experiencing that minor rush with an audience. I swallow audibly as he approaches me again with the now-filled syringe. “I’m not going to lie, Rose, this will hurt. But the area will numb quickly and should stay that way for several hours.”

I squeeze Max’s hand tightly and nod for him to go ahead. When the needle makes contact with my skin, I hiss. Why is it that I can cut my own skin and only feel relief, but when someone else dares to do something similar, there is only pain? Possibly because I’m not the one in control of what’s happening to my body?
Is it as simple as the need to be in charge?
“Ouch,” I whimper, as the sharp point seems to go straight through to the bone.

“Just breathe, baby,” Max instructs, and that’s what I do. Listening to his calm voice, I disconnect from what Matt is doing and focus on the man at my side. I feel pressure on my leg as Matt holds the wound together and the staple gun hovers above it. “Look at me,” Max says, and I turn to face him once again. I’m so distracted by the warm tenderness in his eyes that I am almost surprised when I hear the click as Matt begins. True to his word, the shot has done as he promised and the staples don’t really hurt.

In a surprisingly short amount of time, I hear Matt say, “There. All done.” He’s even covered the area with a bandage at some point. I thank him before Max follows him out of the room.

When they’re gone, I stare down at the white gauze now covering a section of my thigh. I’m so sleepy that I can barely remain upright. The secret I’ve kept for all of these years is out.
I feel so exposed. Physically, I am covered, yet emotionally, I’m exposed.
Two people now know that Rose Madden is a cutter. Maybe tomorrow I’ll find enough energy to care, but for now, I want nothing more than the sweet oblivion that sleep can bring. While most people might be afraid of the monsters lurking in the dark, the things that haunt me rarely wait until nighttime.

“
W
ho is she
?” Matt asks me tiredly as we step out the front door. Matt is a good friend, but I knew there was no way he would leave without wanting to know more.

“It’s complicated,” I reply, thinking that about sums it up exactly.

Matt shakes his head. “Don’t give me that line, man. This woman is hurting herself. You know that, right? Some of those scars on her are years old. This isn’t something she just started experimenting with.”

“I know,” I admit. “I mean I didn’t know until tonight, but I saw the same thing you did. I’d just—shit, I’d never have imagined her doing something like that. She has always seemed so happy and carefree. A little nuts sometimes,” I laugh, “but still it shocks the fuck out of me.”

Matt puts a hand on my arm and gives me a level stare. “She’s in crisis, Max. She needs help. Are you in a relationship with her?”

“No,” I say as I try not to panic at his words. “Until tonight, I hadn’t seen her in a while. She’s best friends with Luc’s wife.” Lucian and Matt aren’t friends, but they do know each other socially. “We’ve danced around something more than a few times, but it hasn’t gone further than that, and I have no intention of allowing anything to happen in the future.”

In the glow of the porch light, I see the concern on Matt’s face. “You need to be very careful with her. I’ll email you some information later on physicians I know who deal with this type of thing. She was just inches away from hitting a major artery tonight, and she may have bled out before you could have stopped it.”

My gut clenches as I voice my biggest fear. “Has she been attempting to kill herself?”

“No, generally it’s just a very bad way of dealing with stress, emotional pain, or even trauma.” Before I can feel relief, he adds, “But it can escalate over time, and it’s possible that she could kill herself by accident.”

“Fuck,” I whisper, shaken to the core. “I can’t believe this. I have no idea what to do, other than to watch her every minute of the day. Somehow, I don’t think she’ll allow that, though.”

“Probably not,” Matt agrees. “Understand that it’s an attempt to be in control of something and while that may happen while she’s doing it, afterward, it generally brings feelings of shame. So not only is she dealing with whatever caused her to start cutting in the first place, but she’s also more than likely deeply embarrassed by what she’s doing. I would be surprised if anyone else in her life knows about it. If they don’t, this could go two ways. She may be relieved that someone has finally found out … or she may be afraid of what you’ll think of her now that you know. So be as supportive as you can and try to encourage her to speak with a professional or someone in her life who she trusts.”

“Thanks, Matt,” I say as I give him a one-armed hug. “I appreciate you coming over.”

“I’m here for you,” he says sincerely, “and I’m here for Rose. Call me at any time if you have concerns.” I walk back into the house and close the door behind me. This whole evening seems like some kind of dream to me. Was it mere hours ago that I received the call from Rose? Everything since has been a blur.

Instead of returning right away to Rose, I make a quick detour to clean the mess from the guest bathroom so that she won’t be faced with it when she does go back into her room. I’ve just set the trash bag in the laundry room when I look up to see Rose standing uncertainly in the hallway. “Are you okay?” she asks, and I fight the urge to laugh, even though it’s not funny. Shouldn’t I be the one checking on her?

I give her a wry smile and walk to where she is standing. “I’m fine, sweetheart. What do you say we call it a night—or a morning? I don’t know about you, but I’m beat.”

She drops her head, refusing to make eye contact as she says, “Yeah, I’m tired.” I automatically place a hand on her lower back and lead her back toward the guest room. She stands in the doorway looking very young and uncertain. “So—um, I guess I’ll see you in a bit.”

I pull her into a brief hug because she looks as if she needs it as much as I do. “I’m just down the hallway. If you need anything, let me know. I’ll leave my door open.” She pulls away and I try not to feel like I abandoning her as I continue to my own bed. As exhausted as I am, though, I have to wonder if I’ll be able to sleep knowing that Rose is lying next door, possibly even more broken than I am.

I
stare
at the ceiling and attempt to will my exhausted body to sleep. That Max knows my secret is something I couldn’t have imagined happening. In all the months that I teased and flirted with him, I never gave serious thought to what would occur if we ever had sex. Maybe I secretly believed I could hide it all from him in the dark of the night.

He’s been incredibly supportive and nonjudgmental since he walked in on me bleeding in his bathroom earlier. I knew he had questions; I could see them in his eyes. But to give him credit, he had yet to make me feel like the freak I obviously am. He has to be thinking in the back of his mind that he really dodged a bullet by not getting involved with someone as messed up as me. No doubt, his doctor friend would have pointed that out to him. Matt Foster had been polite and professional, but there was a weariness to him that was impossible to miss. Like Max, Matt was also a very handsome man. I didn’t feel the attraction to him, though, that I do to his friend. Of course, the fact that I was sitting before him looking like a train wreck while he stitched up my leg might have had something to do with it. It’s a little hard to admire someone knowing they must think you’re a complete nut job.

My hands twist in the cotton material of Max’s shirt as thoughts of my father fill my head. What am I going to do? I’m homeless. I have no apartment, nor can I afford a hotel. I can’t even afford the necessities. If not for Max, I would still be on the street.

I burrow more deeply under the covers as shivers begin wracking my body. Dammit, not again! I know another panic attack is just around the corner, and I have no way of coping with it. Then I remember the bag that I had used earlier to breathe in. I scramble from the bed and flip the lamp on. A soft glow fills the room as I look around. It’s not here. Shit, Max must have picked it up. I pace the floor, feeling my chest grow tighter.

Before I am even conscious of moving, I’m walking down the hallway until I reach an open door. I stand just inside until my eyes become accustomed to the inky blackness. I can make out a shape on the bed as I creep toward it. I stand there silently, wringing my hands. I desperately need someone to hold me tonight, but I’m incapable of asking. I turn away, not willing to let him see that I’m falling apart yet again.

I’ve barely made it a few steps when he rears up in the bed, looking around wildly. I may not have been able to fall asleep, but it appears he didn’t suffer from the same problem. I see him jerk as he notices me standing there. His arm reaches toward the lamp but freezes as I say quickly, “Please. Don’t! I’ll go, just don’t turn that on.” I have no idea why, but I don’t want him to see me right now. Some part of me hopes that his mind will conjure up the image that I normally present—not this pathetic women nearly hyperventilating before him. Then as if things couldn’t get any more awkward, I blurt out, “Can I sleep with you?”
Oh my God, why did I say that?
I’m so embarrassed; I don’t wait for his reply.

I’m almost back to my room when he grabs my elbow, halting me in my tracks. “Why are you running?” he asks, sounding adorably confused.

“I—shouldn’t have put you on the spot. I couldn’t sleep and ... I didn’t know what else to do.”

He is silent for a moment before using the hand he still has on my elbow to propel me back to his bedroom and through the door. Despite my earlier plea, he turns the lamp on before turning the comforter on his bed back and motioning me in. As my pride is already in tatters, I waste no time accepting what he’s offering. I crawl across the soft mattress until I reach the other side. When I’ve stopped moving, he gets in as well and turns the light off.

I begin to think I’ve made a big mistake as I lie rigidly with only inches separating us. I have the closeness I was craving, but it’s still not what I need. I want to feel his arms around me, but there is no way I can ask anything more of him. Truthfully, we’re not even friends in the real world, so this is awkward. My skin feels tight. My chest even tighter.
Come on, Rose. Breathe.

I hear him sigh before he asks, “How can I help you? I can sense your fear from here, sweetheart, and I want nothing more than to hold you until you feel safe enough to sleep.” I take a deep breath and wiggle my way back to his side. Why bother to worry about rejection at this point? While it might not be pleasant, it could in no way compare to him finding me in the bathroom with a knife on the floor beside me.

He lifts his arm as I reach him and I duck under it, laying my head on his chest. There is no hair there, and I wonder fleetingly if he shaves or waxes. His muscles flex as he begins rubbing my back, lulling me into an almost trance-like state. Then he shocks me further by humming. I don’t recognize the tune, but his husky, masculine voice fills the silence, and I find I’m incapable of thinking of anything else. I want to remain awake, just to hear him, but the pull to sleep is too strong. It’s been months since I’ve slept beside a man.
Don’t think of that douche now, Rose. You don’t need that additional pain and embarrassment.
So warm. So comfortable in Max’s arms. This may be the only night he allows this. I drift away, secure in the protective circle of his embrace. Tomorrow, I’ll be alone again, but this is what I’ll miss the most.

I
wake disoriented
as something brushes against me. Even though it’s been a long time, I still remember the unmistakable feel of a woman in my arms. Sunlight streams through the partially closed blinds as I take a moment to get my bearings. The previous night comes flooding back, and I glance down to see a cascade of red hair sprayed across my chest. After months of avoidance and denial, Rose Madden is in my arms—although certainly not in the way I’ve fantasized about. Darkness exists inside her that I never would have guessed.

Possibly, her obsession with firearms and revenge upon her ex-boyfriend should have clued me in, but both were presented in such a lighthearted manner that I hadn’t a clue. Matt says that she harms herself by cutting to have some sense of control over her life, which surprises me. If there is one woman who I would have said was in command of the world around her, it’s Rose. I’ll admit that knowing I’ve read her completely wrong is unsettling. As a lawyer, I literally make a living being able to figure out what makes someone tick. Now, I find that there is yet another facet to her I never expected. She’s a beautiful, intriguing, and troubled puzzle I need to solve, if for no other reason than to help her. Now that I know what she’s been doing, I can’t turn my back. I’d never forgive myself if something happened and I wasn’t there.
Does Lia know?
I wonder, thinking if she’d confided in anyone, it would be her friend.

She shifts again, and I try not to think about the last woman who shared my bed. It’s been so long since I’ve let anyone past the wall I’ve built around me. I have sex when the need is there, but I don’t have relationships. Luc and I were actually a lot alike before he met Lia. I knew he was a goner even before he did. She was the one he couldn’t walk away from. I know because I’ve had that before, and it’s damn hard to deal with when it’s jerked away. Luc was strong enough to take a leap of faith—but I am not. I will be her friend and help her in any way that I can—but that’s all I have to give her.

When a snore loud enough to do a man proud fills the room, I can’t hold my laughter back. It’s the comic relief I desperately need. She does it again, and I marvel that such a tiny thing can make such a loud noise. Dear God, this woman may need sinus surgery along with everything else.

Apparently, my shaking body is enough to disturb her, and she jerks awake with an adorable snort. I watch her with a grin on my face while her eyes scan the room in confusion and then come to rest on me. “Wh—what?” Before I can fill her in, I see it all coming back to her. Her look of puzzlement gives way to embarrassment as her face turns a deep shade of red. “Crap, I’d really hoped it was just a dream,” she mumbles as she drops her head.

“That’s not exactly what a man likes to hear when he wakes up in bed with a woman,” I tease, trying to put her at ease.

Never one to back down from a joke, she fires right back, “I seriously doubt a man would take a woman he’d found carving herself like a Jack-o-Lantern in his bathroom to bed at the end of the evening unless he was into some strange shit.”

I’m strangely relieved she is able to make light of the previous night. I’d been afraid that things between us would be at the very least strained in the light of day. “I’m a lawyer, sweetheart. I’ve seen a lot and heard even more. Not much can shock me at this point. Were you working on the eyes or the mouth last night when I walked in?”

A giggle escapes her as she shifts from my chest and falls onto her back. Her hands come up and cover her face as she continues to laugh. “You’re sick, Mr. Decker. Has anyone ever told you that? You shouldn’t make fun of the fucked up.”

I nod my head in agreement. “I’ve been told that a few times, but my mother never got around to teaching me manners.” My stomach growls as I finish my sentence. I turn to study her, thinking she looks more gorgeous than any woman has a right to after an evening of hell. “I’m starving. How about I lock up all of my knives and whip us up something to eat?”

She looks over to see me smirking and raises her delicate finger in the air to flip me off. “Go fix me something to eat before I smother you with this pillow,” she threatens as she pats the fluffy mound next to her.

“Your wish is my command.” I get to my feet and wink before walking toward the kitchen. I stop off at the bathroom in the hall and take care of business before washing my face and hands. A quick look in the mirror shows the usual morning stubble of hair on my jawline, but I don’t usually worry about that on the weekends. My profession calls for me to wear suits more often than not, so I value what little time I can relax and be casual.

As I gather up the ingredients to make eggs and bacon, I marvel at how relaxed I feel. I hadn’t expected that this morning. I figured, at best, things would be tense and uncomfortable while we both tried to ignore the elephant in the room. I certainly never imagined I’d be making jokes about sharp objects. I wasn’t sure when I began with the teasing if it was the best way to go and part of me was afraid she would either start crying or leave in a pissed-off rage. I was so fucking relieved to hear that giggle. Such beautiful music to my ears. If I’m to help her at all, I think we need to establish that kind of ease between us. I want her to feel as if she can talk to me about anything without things getting too intense for her to handle. As Matt said, if she thinks I’m judging her, then she’ll shut me out. And I’m not sure she has anywhere else to turn.

I am plating our meal when she comes into the kitchen. Her hair is a jumble of waves around her shoulders, and she’s still wearing my shirt—a fact my cock notices almost immediately. I keep my front turned toward the stove as I try to talk the evil bastard back into a relaxed state. My body has been hyper aware of Rose from the moment we met. The things I’ve imagined doing to her would either shock or thrill her—possibly both. At this moment, I’m grateful for my loose lounge pants as they give some camouflage to my wayward dick.

I set her food before her, and she gives me a shy smile. “Thanks. This looks great.”

“I’m good at everything I do, sweetheart,” I joke before thinking better of it. If I plan to keep this just friendship, it would probably be better to stop throwing out the sexual innuendos. That seems impossible around her, though. I blurt them out without thought.

“Prove it,” she tosses right back, and despite my resolve, I grin approvingly. As usual, I’m powerless to resist this woman when she turns on the charm. It’s hard for me to reconcile the woman of this morning with the one of only hours before. If Matt is correct, and she’s been cutting for years, then she has probably become very good at hiding it from the world behind her normal bubbly demeanor.

“I wouldn’t want to be the cause of you popping your stitches. Matt would kick both of our asses if that happened,” I add lightly as I lift a slice of bacon to my mouth.

We eat in silence for a while before she suddenly asks, “So what’s his story—Matt’s? How did you first meet?”

I feel a pang of what feels almost like jealousy at her interest in Matt as well as a trickle of unease at the question. Matt and I have a history together and to tell her how we met would be to reveal more than I intend to. Therefore, I keep my answer vague as I say, “We’ve moved in similar circles.” Then I decide to change the subject. “So it looks as if we need to do some shopping today. When I got up, I washed the outfit you were wearing last night, so as soon as it’s dry, we can head out. Unless you plan to try to work things out with your father today?”

A shudder runs through her as she shakes her head. “No, I don’t want anything to do with him after what he did to me. If I go crawling back now, then he’s got me. I’ll have to cave to all of his demands, and I might as well be signing my life over at that point because I’ll never get back out again.” Then she drops her head in her hands and I hear a sniffle. “But I have no idea what I’m going to do. I hardly have any money, no clothing, or other necessities. Lia won’t be back ’til tomorrow evening, and I’m not calling and worrying her.”