Page 55 of Darkened Promises

“If you’re giving me that look because I didn’t tell you, then I wasn’t aware I needed to. We haven’t been friends that long and dating even less. I would’ve told you…but, well, life went to shit,” I snap. Shrugging off Bry’s hands, I wrap my arms around my torso, needing some sort of barrier as I defend myself.

“But I can’t fix things if you don’t tell me,” he says, surprising me when his shoulders drop slightly, his tone softer.

“You can’t fix everything for me, Nate,” I whisper, arms falling to my sides as I take a step closer, head tilting back slightly to account for our height difference.

“Be easier if I could,” he confesses, cupping my chin. His calloused hands are achingly familiar. “With this I can at least. Move in here. We already pay the bills; you don’t need to.”

I’m about to refuse, my back stiffening at the idea of freeloading off of them any longer than I already have.

“At least until you get a job, then you can contribute. There’s no rush in the meantime, and we can figure out a way for you to see your therapist too,” Bry interjects, obviously seeing how Nate’s words have ruffled me.

My focus darts between them, unsure how the conversation has come to a ‘move in with us’ invite. “I…”

“Say yes, little tease.”

“It’s too soon for us to all live together, isn’t it?” I ask, my pulse increasing at the idea. A small slither of hope flickers to life in the dark recess my mind seems to mostly reside in.

“Says who?” Nate grunts, and he sounds so stubborn I have to fight not to roll my eyes.

“And if it doesn’t work out?”

“Then we figure out what to do, and if you want to leave and need help finding a place, then you’ll have our support,” Bry answers, providing his sweet reasoning as always.

“What if…the nightmares never go away? Or I can’t go back to the old me, and this is what you’re stuck with?” I ask, hating the vulnerability in my words, as I gesture to my marked and scarred body. The external bruises may have mostly healed, but the cuts are still there, both physically and mentally.

“Then we’ll hug you through every one of them and create as many new memories to dream about as we can. But we’re not stuck with you. Everything we see is what we want. Because you’re what we want, nothing more and nothing less. Nothing you say or do will make us want to leave, Rosy. If you want things to end, then you need to tell us that, otherwise we’re going to be here,” Bry says, his body pressed up behind me, each word whispered into my ear as I watch Nate.

He doesn’t add anything. His eyes blaze with his promise, with his feelings for me.

“Okay…I’ll stay.”

TWENTY-NINE

NOAH

“Knock, knock,” I announce, stepping into Nate’s bedroom.

Rosy’s back is to the door. She sits cross-legged on the bed, staring off into the space before her. She’d not seen me standing at the threshold watching her.

Her shoulders jolt, but she smiles when she sees me. There’s a tightness around her eyes and bags beneath them from the nights of interrupted sleep.

“Hey, how was your day?” she asks.

I reach out to let Moshi sniff my hand. The furry, not as feisty, kitten is currently curled in her lap.

“It was good. I’m expecting everyone’s essays tomorrow, and I’m hoping there’ll be an improvement this time.”

“What’s it on?” she asks, absently stroking the kitten as she watches me.

“Jane Eyre. The question being: How does Brontë use the characters’ surroundings to intensify their internal emotional state?” I chuckle at her raised brows and wide eyes.

“I don’t think I miss homework or being in school. It’s weird how you forget the pressure of it all. At the time, I thought there had to be something better once I became an adult. Then I hit the outside world and realised that my world had been stressful but small, and now it’s so much bigger and even more stressful.”

“Is there something you’re struggling with that I can help with?” I ask, brushing the backs of my fingers along her cheek, enjoying the flutter of her lashes as she leans into me.

“You’re all doing so much already,” she says, but I can’t agree. I wish there was more we could do.

“Do you want your hair washed?” I ask, my heart pausing at the request.