Page 72 of My Rose

So I left the house, and that’s how I ended up walking along the edge of the same park Briggs took me to, effectively exchanging one aching reminder of him for another. I didn’t set out to go to the place where he went to ‘not be an asshole.’ Turns out, my mind wasn’t the only thing consumed by him. It was my entire body, too—possessed by the gnawing thoughts of him and where we’d been together.

Howwe’d been together.

We weregood. Hewasgood.

Or that’s what I believed.

I’d been so wrong, and now I was kicking up snow along the edges of that same park without the one-and-only asshole in sight, unable to move from the spot.

Until I heard a familiar voice, along with the sounds of a car screeching to a stop in the parking lot.

A car door slammed, and the voice got louder, but the thing that made a bone-chilling shiver pierce down my back wasmy name.

Kind of.

“Rosie Toesie!” August all but slurred as he made a less-than-poised exit from his car and walked over to me. Also, kind of. He was blasted—his car was parked diagonally, and his legs werecrossing over the other in a way that made me think he was about to fall right on his face.

I briefly pinched my eyes shut, wishing he would have.

“Shit,” I muttered to myself, turning on my heels and picking up my pace to walk away. From where I was standing, the beginning of the path leading to where Briggs took me once wasn’t that far. If I could just—

“Rose, wait up!”

Double shit.

I don’t know why I stopped or gave him an ounce of my attention and turned my head over my shoulder, but I did. I so stupidly did. Maybe it was because he used my actual name for once in his life. As he got closer, my arms instinctively wrapped around my body, squeezing out enough citrus to keep me calm because, yes, I was wearing one of Briggs’ jackets. It was the only thing keeping me sane as my former best friend, who never truly deserved the title, strode up to say whatever crap would spew from the mouth he believed was on par with David Bowie.

As if.

“Rosie.” August’s hazy, bloodshot eyes roamed my body as he approached. I stepped back, recoiling into myself as he got closer, his eyes catching on to my jacket before darting back up. “I’m so glad I found you.”

“You can have your mother call my house to ask for a new guitar but can’t figure out how to find me?”

“Listen, about that—I told her it wasn’t you and I had lied.” He rubbed along his jaw, where purple and yellow marks sprawled overand up, covering his eye. As I squinted, he tapped on it, wincing. “So, no harm, no foul, right Rosebud?”

“No.” I widened my stance, hoping it would make me feel taller compared to him.

His fingers stroked the bruise as he dipped his chin down. “Not going to ask me what happened? I thought you, of all people, would care.”

I scoffed. “Why should I care what happens to you anymore? You ruined whatever fucked-up friendship we had.” His hand fell, and as he loomed in closer, I stepped back. Swallowing past the large lump forming in my throat, I gave in. “Fine. What happened?”

“Your fucking dog bit me is what happened.”

My brows furrowed. “I don’t have a—” Oh. Warmth spread over my chest, followed by a cold shudder because thatdogwasn’t mine anymore. August was someone I grew weak around and thought it was love’s doing, but now I was certain my weak state was because of the way he was standing, looking down at me like I could be so easily taken over. And for years, he’d been right in that assumption. For most of my life, really. My back straightened, my sneakers grinding down into the snowy grass as I bit out, “What do you want?”

Now it was time for confusion to dawn on his once-pretty face, yet all I saw when I looked at him now was a tattered boy who would never grow up—someone I feared more as he took another step closer. Two feet between us used to feel like a pit I wanted to jump over. Now, all I wanted was to run away, to claw myself out, even if it left my fingertips bloody and raw.

He laughed at the question. “What do I want?” He swiped his thumb along his bottom lip, where a cut sliced down to his pointed chin. “What the fuck doIwant?” He laughed again, the coldness of it making a shiver roll down my spine. “I want what was supposed to be mine.”

I took a step back. “I gave your guitar back in the condition you deserved to get it back. I have nothing else of yours.” August’s face twisted, and I faltered before retreating yet another step. I wanted nothing more than to punch him, which was odd for me because I wasn’t a physically violent person. But yelling and arguing wasn’t going to get me far—not with that crazed look on his face. Neither outcome played out in my mind well, so I stood there, feeling less than confident that I could take him on. The smirk he was giving me let me know he could sense my discomfort, and he didn’t give a damn. He never had.

“Forget about the fucking guitar, Rosie.” Black spread to cover his blueberry irises as his gaze roamed over my chest. “This isn’t. About. The. Guitar.”

I shuddered, my fists curling in over my torso. “Then w-what is it that you want from me?” Another step back, which was quickly eaten up by the three sloppy steps he took right after.

His shadow made the snow and grass beneath my feet appear like a dark pit, ready to swallow me whole. “C’mon, Rosie. Don’t act like you don’t remember that phone call.” My brows pinched, then flew up. Ihadforgotten. I forgot all about August being on the phone, hearing my voice, my intense cries of pleasure responding to all the things Briggs had said and done. And then it clicked—theway August was reacting and finally seeking my attention, seeing the shiner on August’s face, and calling Briggsmydog instead of a dog in general…

For whatever reason, which I was sure was valid as hell, Briggs beat the shit out of August—and that had beenfor me. I smiled, forgetting August was waiting for me to reply about a phone call I really wished I didn’t have to talk about. It wasn’t any of his business what I chose to do to my body and who I chose to do that with. But beyond that, it made me think of Briggs—being in his arms and feeling secure andsafe.

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