I decide not to think about it, but rather take it for what it is. Rosie hurting and needing me. She rests against me, and I use a cloth to delicately wash her skin. I wash her hair, too, in the way she showed me. She sniffs and sobs every now and then, and I work my hands on her skin, massaging her tense shoulders, her arms, and her legs. And because I can’t help myself, I kiss her neck, her shoulder, and her cheeks. And though I have no plans to turn this into a heated moment, my body reacts to her all the same. Having her like this, in my arms, taking care of her? It’s a heady feeling, and I hadn’t realized how desperate I’ve been for this side of Rosie.
“Your skin is so soft, Rosebud,” I whisper between soft kisses and a few swipes of the cloth over her puckered nipples. “You’re utter perfection, you know?” I ask gently, though I know I won’t get an answer. Perhaps I’m not good with the silence, but my heart feels tight in my chest, and it’s all I can do to ease the well of emotions that seem to be on the constant rise when she’s around. “And even though I just washed every inch of your skin with some crazy citrus fruit, you still smell like you,” I let my nose trail up her neck to breathe her in, “and it’s intoxicating.” I leave a soft trail of kisses, and when I see goose bumps line her skin, I decide bath time is over. Whether it was a reaction to my words or because she’s cold, I’m not sure, but I’d rather get her out and in bed before this turns into being about my needs over hers.
I lift her out, get her dried and dressed into those boyleg panties she favors and a baggy T-shirt from one of her many, many drawers of clothes, dressing myself in a pair of gray sweats she’d stolen from me once. I seat her on the stool near the vanity. I try my best to mentally recall her hair treatment regime. I know I’m not going to get it right, but Rosie seems like a ghost of herself. Her usual snarky, talkative personality is all but gone. I know future Rosie will feel better when she wakes up tomorrow without knots and dried-out curls.
I think I get the products right because Rosie watches silently but doesn’t correct me. There is something a little less hollow about her expression as she watches me concentrate on getting it right. I give up at the braids though. I don’t know how women manage to get their little fingers to control all that hair, but my hands can’t make it work. So I hunt around for her silk bandanna wrap and tie that around her head. Once I’m finished, I’m feelingmaybea little proud. I flash her a smile in the mirror, my hands on my hips as I admire my work.
“God, I’m amazing.” I grin at her, but my smile drops when I see a tear drop down her face as she looks from me to her hair and back again, her hand ghosting over the bandanna.
“Hey, hey, pretty girl, what is it? Did I do it wrong?” My heart races, a little nervous that I’ve just made everything worse.
She shakes her head, a soft smile on her face as she swipes at a tear. “No, it’s…it’s perfect. Thank you.” I heave a breath and then lean down to kiss her shoulder.
“Don’t thank me. I wanted to do it. C’mon.” I grab her hand and pull her up, dragging her behind me and to her bed. “Why don’t you rest, I’ll be back.” I pull her into my arms for a quick kiss, soft and not nearly enough to sate me of her touch.
“Where are you going?” I wish I didn’t love that desperate sound in her voice…but I do. I fucking revel in the way she’s clinging to me.
“I’m not going anywhere, Rosebud. I’m going to fix you up some food. I’ll be back.” I kiss her again as she gets back in bed.
I’m almost at the door when I hear her voice, a little louder than before, a little hint of her teasing easing back in. “No tea. I fucking hate tea.” Her nose scrunches, and my chest warms as I chuckle.
“Right. No tea.” And I head into the kitchen.
I’m still in a bit of a daze with Rosie’s soft smile in my mind when I wander into her kitchen, Addy paces by the living room, looking a touch murderous, while Casey stares out the window, tapping her lips absently, looking pensive. I don’t announce myself, but they realize my presence when I start opening the pantry cupboards in search of some comfort food.
“What’s going on?” Addison questions as she storms in my direction.
“Let her tell you.” I give her a brief smile, chuckling at the petulant way she stomps her foot and scowls at me. I go back to getting what I need and finding a couple of bowls and spoons.
“How is she at least, is she okay? I’ve never seen her cry like that,” Casey asks as she wanders over.
“I’ve never seen her cry, period,” Addy chimes in, but her eyes are narrowed on me like she’s sizing up the enemy.
“It’s just been…a day, but she’ll be okay. She’s resting.” I don’t really know what to tell them; they’re her best friends, and I’m sure she’ll talk to them, I just don’t know how much she will tell them, given how much I know Rosie loves to keep things to herself. I’m learning just how painfully secretive and private she is. I’m not about to spill her dirty laundry if she isn’t ready to do it herself.
“So.” Casey heaves a breath as she sits in one of the chairs opposite the island counter. I knew this was coming. I clear my throat and prepare for the grilling. “You two, huh?” Casey wears a bit of a cheeky expression, though she seems happy about it, and Addy narrows her eyes more, her arms crossed over her chest. I remain silent and focus on the task at hand; comfort food, because it’s another thing I don’t know how to answer.
What I do know, is that she’d want to choose what, when, and how to tell the girls. She’d want to be in control of it, so I say nothing and continue to pour the cereal and milk into two bowls.
“I like it,” Casey says, sitting up straighter. “I think you two are perfect for each other.” I pout to smother the pleased smile that wants to spread across my face. I don’t disagree, that’s for sure, but I don’t have time to respond before Addy speaks.
“Cocoa Krispies?” When I look over to her, she raises a questioning brow, her face tilted in assessment. I shrug, putting away the milk.
“This sugary goodness is the best kind of comfort food. Well, it’s my favorite anyway. I fucking love breakfast.” I give them my best Caleb smirk and Casey giggles.
“Huh.” Addison looks a little more thoughtful, the angry crease between her brows disappearing.
“What?”
“Nothing. It’s just…well, that’s Rosie’s favorite cereal.” I guessed, considering it was in her kitchen, but I don’t interrupt her. “And she also loves breakfast.” I smile properly then, not telling them that I already know this because Rosie and I talk about almost everything, and our mutual love of breakfast and cereals has come up. Probably because it’s the only thing she can handle that won’t burn down a kitchen. But who doesn’t love a cold, crisp bowl of chocolate cereal when you feel like shit?
“I’ll see you guys later,” is all I respond, barely sparing them a glance as I take the bowls back to Rosie’s room. I hear a hushed chuckle from Addy and Casey, but I can’t make out the words they say, I’m too focused on getting back to Rosie.
When I open the door, she sits up and then leans against the headboard, a shy smile on her face, which is new. I haven’t seen her ever look shy. Though I’d guess it’s more to do with her overanalyzing how vulnerable she’s been than anything else.
“Hey there, pretty girl. You hungry?” I ask softly as I sit on the bed, and she eagerly takes the bowl from my hands. I chuckle as she shovels a mouthful in.
“God yeah. Starving,” she mumbles around the food in her mouth before she chuckles. I dig in, too, and every now and then our eyes lock for a lingering moment and I see the playful gleam returning to her eyes. They no longer look so sad, but rather a little lighter. Maybe that breakdown was in the works for a lot longer than she realized. And maybe quitting was what she needed.
