Page 86 of My Rose

Reading Ovid and the ancient great poets for years had taught me one solid thing beyond knowing that women were, more often than not, nothing more than an object of desire—it taught me that one woman could fuck all of that right up. One woman could take your very life in their hands and make you bend to their will without so much as moving a finger. It wasn’t the amount of power you gave a woman that determined what she’d do with you when she had you, but what you chose to do when you lost that power that made all the difference.

All of my power had been relinquished to Rose Heather Fields, and I’d happily stay on my goddamned knees in the divot of Rose’s palm for the rest of my life if it meant being like this with her for the rest of my life.

An hour into the drive, Rose started to shift in her seat until she gave up on trying to get comfortable and sat up, rubbing her sleepy, beautiful blue eyes. “Good morning, baby.” I smiled but kept my eyes on the road. With the number of black ice reports and the way my love for life had been wholly renewed, I didn’t want to risk glancing at a woman I knew was hard enough to stop looking at once I started.

“Good…morning?” She fell silent as she looked out the window and then leaned in closer to the clock on the dash. “Where are we going? It’s almost midnight.”

“Wanted to take you somewhere. We’re almost there; it’s just taking a little longer than usual because of the ice.”

I figured she’d jump right into asking where, but I was kind of taken aback when she said, “I love this song.” She then proceeded to turn the volume up, and I almost swerved on the road the second she started singing along.

Because, holy shit, Rose didn’t just learn to talk all over again after losing her voice. Now, I understood why her grandparents chose Nashville as a vacation spot to get her to sing. They knew she could. Rose Fields had the sweetest, most haunting voice I’d ever heard.

I gripped the steering wheel, wracking my brain for any indication of her hidden talent. But found none. Rose hadn’t been in choir, didn’t sing in some high school or garage band, and never tooklessons that were mentioned in her file. But, then again, most things were absent from that useless thing.

I cleared my throat as the song ended. “I didn’t know you could sing.”

She fell silent, the ends of her hair moving in my periphery as she toyed with it. “I keep it to myself.”

“Why?”

“I…I don’t know. Au-I mean, that friend I had at one point always played his guitar and sang, and I didn’t want to overstep, so I just…didn’t sing unless I was alone.”

I gripped the wheel harder, then reached over and took her hand in mine. “Did he know you could sing?”

“Yes,” she replied instantly, and my fingers curled over her hand a little tighter. “He said I wasn’t that good, though.”

Anger flooded through me, yet the smooth glide of my thumb over her hand reassured her I was fine. Or, tried to. I could feel her looking at me, analyzing my every move, and I couldn’t help the tick of my jaw as I thought about beating the shit out of him all over again. The next time, he’d be dead. I wouldn’t leave him breathing.

“He’s wrong,” I finally got out. “Your voice is as beautiful as you are, and I don’t say that lightly.”

“You’re not just saying that because you uh…like me?” She laughed, her other hand joining mine, playing with my fingers like it was her hair. The touch of those delicate fingers on mine sent shivers down my spine.

I straightened in my seat.“Likeis putting it rather loosely, don’t you think?”

Rose let the silence stretch for a few minutes, focusing on the words I let hang between us as her eyes fixed on the rough edges of my knuckles and the white scars on my hands that resembled mere paper cuts now. It was intriguing that Rose was so quick to speak her mind, yet when you threw things likeloveor anything sexual into the mix, she tensed up. We were working our way through the second, but I wasn’t sure if I’d ever get to hear her tell me she loved me. I wasn’t sure she was there yet or if she ever could love someone as monstrous as myself. I didn’t deserve it. That much I knew.

“When did you get the tattoo?”

“Which one?”

Her hand released mine and returned flat on my chest as she twisted in her seat. “This one, Briggs. When?”

“Last night,” I answered truthfully. “I’m actually glad you got to see it before it starts to peel. They aren’t that pretty when that happens.”

She shut down the way I tried to make light of the artwork, showing her how I felt about her without needing to say it at all. “What made you do that?”

I turned my attention to the road for a moment, turning off the stretch of the two-lane highway we’d been on for a while now. Rose resettled her hand over mine as it rested on the shifter, waiting for me to answer.

“I wanted to keep you with me forever, even if you were just going to be a memory.”

“Pull over.” I slowed at a stop sign and looked over at her, unsure if I heard her right. She snapped her fingers at my stunned, confused face. “Hello? I saidpull over.”

I sighed, the car unmoving at the dead intersection. “Rose, you can’t jump out here. At least let me get you somewhere safe, and I’ll drive you back home in the morning. I didn’t mean to upset—” All words flew from my brain as Rose began removing her borrowed shirt, her light pink nipples peaked and ready.

“I don’t want to leave the car, Briggs. I saidpull over.” Her borrowed pants went next until she was completely naked in the passenger seat.

We were maybe two minutes from where I was taking her, but I did as she said and pulled off to the side of the road.

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