Page 43 of Darkened Promises

I fold my arms tightly over my chest and clear my throat. “She’s sleeping.”

Blonde brows pull tightly on her forehead, and her mouth parts. Bry slides an arm around her shoulders and pulls her over to the sofas. “Nate’s right. She’s asleep with Noah at the moment. She’s…not been doing so well and barely sleeping. When she does, it’s fleeting, then she wakes up panicked and disorientated.”

Steph releases a strangled choking noise, and I step forward, ready to slap her on the back. She drops her arse onto the sofa and threads her fingers through her short blonde hair.

“I just…can’t believe this has all happened. Like…what the fuck?” She angrily swipes another tear. “I know no one deserves anything like this to happen to them. But it’s Rosy. Life’s already been shit enough to her.” Steph swipes at her wet nose, and Bry immediately leans over to nudge the box of tissues down the coffee table to her.

A box that has been used too much for Rosy’s fucking tears. Fuck, I hate her tears. I hate her pain. I hate everything about this because I can’t make it stop for her. I can’t fix it.

She blows her nose loudly, and my eyes dart to the hallway leading to the closed bedroom door.

“I was rooting for all you guys, because she deserves the world,” Steph says, scrunching the snot-filled tissue into her hand.

“We’re here for Rosy through all of this. She has our hearts and our support, always,” Bry promises. “She’s not going to be alone, and I know she’ll need you too.”

“Noah messaged to say there’s still no news from the police,” Steph says, looking at Bry for confirmation.

“No. Nothing. You should be careful too. Just in case,” I answer her. “Did you drive?”

Her brows pinch, and she shakes her head. “No, I don’t have a car. My girlfriend’s at work, so I grabbed an Uber.”

“It’s getting dark out. Max can walk you down and wait for your ride when you’re ready to leave,” I say, and Max looks up from staring at the floor.

“Yeah, of course,” he says, nodding at Steph.

“Do you want anything to eat?” Bry asks, brushing his hands down his thighs. “I have some lime and coconut muffins.”

Steph releases a long exhale, her shoulders dropping. “I’d love one, thanks. Do you mind if I stay for a bit, in case she wakes up?”

Bry leans across and squeezes her arm. “Not at all.”

My teeth grind at his acceptance. I don’t not like her. But…what if seeing her makes my girl cry? What if she’s not ready, and it makes her more upset?

Fuck. I hate all of this.

TWENTY-FOUR

MAX

Another night of lying awake listening to Rosy flit from one nightmare to another has my mind and body lagging. It’s been three days of her being back home, and none of us have been able to leave her.

The site manager wasn’t thrilled I’d taken the time off, but being self-employed has its perks…I don’t have to go into work if I don’t want to, although it means I don’t get paid. Yet I can’t make myself leave, even if being stuck here all together has my body itching for space, because watching Rosy withdrawn and lost in her thoughts is a new kind of torture.

I don’t know how to fix it, just like I don’t know how to do anything right. I’m fucking up so much, all the time, that there’s a constant stream of self-hatred pumping through my bloodstream.

It’s exhausting, and all I’m doing is lying on my bed and staring up at the ceiling. That’s at least easier than being around everyone else right now. Avoidance has become my new tactic, apparently.

“Max? Can we talk?” Rosy’s voice comes from the other side of my bedroom door, followed by a hesitant, gentle knock.

A spark of agitation flits through me. How can I avoid her if she comes in here wanting to talk? There’s nothing to talk about. If we talk, she’s only going to get coated in my venom. There’s no world where I want her to see my rage, for her to look at me in hurt.

Fuck. I don’t want to lose her. I want to figure out a way to get rid of all of this shit inside me, for her to see the Max I was before all of this.

To make her laugh, to make her smile.

Except neither of us is the same anymore.

A soft knock sounds again. “Max?”