Page 191 of Wallflower

She huffs, deep and irritated, as her feet shuffle across the carpet towards me.

I can feel it again. That energy ramping up and pulling us together.

The chain lock inside the room clangs as she rivals the slowest fucking tortoise while sliding it free. The metal scrapes the door as the links sway, the sound amping me up further.

The inner workings of the doorknob clink, and I watch the knob twist. Glacially, she drags out this excruciating impending reunion.

The door swings open, and our eyes lock. Her breath hitches, my cock twitching in response. A smile breaks across my face, lip stinging in faraway pain as the wound reopens.

The air in my lungs stalls as I wait for any sort of response from her. I see the world in her sparkling eyes as I gaze down upon her, but for the life of me, I can’t tell what she’s thinking.

Resolve that I have to commit yetanothercrime blankets over me. Finally finding my voice, I say, “There you are, I’ve been looking for you.”

Her expression shifts, though not in the way I want. She’s perplexed, not relieved. And when her voice comes again, it guts me in the worst fucking way.

“Do I know you?”

Previously.

Iwake with a startle, hand pressed to my chest to calm the racing of my heart, the thundering of the blood in my veins like a thousand wild horses. Breath saws in and out of my lungs, tight with panic. My throat’s dry—raspy, as I look about the room.

The fringes of the dream float away like blood in the water. The suite of the cruise ship surrounds me, fluffy comforter heavy and warm against my body.

“Rose?” Chelsea calls from the bathroom on the far side of the room. “Can you get that?”

She’s alive?

Tears well in my eyes as warmth emanates from my chest, slithering to the tips of my extremities. Gods, I want to run in there and hug her, coil my arms around her just to know she’s really here and breathing.

“Rose!” she calls out again.

“What?”

“Get the fucking door! Someone’s knocking!”

Yep, definitely my sister.Her familiar personality brings a smile to my face.

As I sit up in bed, a towel falls from the top of my head. My familiar scarlet red hair falls around me, wet from the shower. Memories fall into place. Smoking on the balcony, showering, getting ready for the mixer…Sam…Brad.

Fear snakes into my veins, quick and precise, woven with pain…loss.

Ripley.

I breathe deep as the loud knocking starts up again.

None of it was real.

“Who is it?” I shout, rubbing my chest, trying to chase away the hollow ache I feel at his absence.

“Housekeeping.”

“We don’t need anything.” I reply, struggling harder than I should have to in order to pull my head into the here and now.

“I have towels sent by Mr. Melborne.”

Ugh!Of course he would send new stuff to the room, probably at the step-monsters request. “Just a minute, please!”

The insistent worker’s knuckles rap against the wooden door once more, and I’m about ready to rip my fucking hair out as a slow throb begins behind my eyes.