Page 68 of Unloved

“Yeah, but they’re romantic.”

“You like them?”

I hate that she looks mildly shamed as she nods, dipping the paper towel into water and pressing it to my skin. “Yeah. I like all romance, but… I like those best. I used to have this massive collection of them.”

“You didn’t bring any here? I wanna see one.”

“I did, but—” She cuts off, eyes darting to the floor. “Um, actually most of them are gone. I think I have one; my favorite one.”

She gets up, stumbling a little, and I take over holding the paper towel to my pec.

The book in her hand is torn on the edges, worn and well loved. Maybe it was bright green at one time, but it’s faded to a soft sage now. She hands it to me delicately.

Marked in Fire, the title scrolls across the cover, the bottoms of the letters brushing the overly chiseled chest of the half-naked man with long red hair, a kilt his only piece of clothing. He embraces a dark-skinned woman with a mass of curls, one hand on her hip, the other tangled in her hair.

“What’s it about?” I ask, biting down on the teasing smile that wants to appear. She looks too unsure, slightly hesitant for me to even hold the book, let alone look at it.

“It’s, um, a reformed rake story.”

My brows dip. “A what?”

“It means”—she clears her throat and plays with the end of the blanket beneath me as I flip the book over like I might read the back—“that the hero was a rake, a playboy, and he changes his ways to be with the heroine, because he loves her.”

Ro pauses and pulls on a strand of hair, a buzzing nervous energy around her.

“Keep going,” I say, intrigued.

“Well, um, in this one, everyone thinks Callan, the guy, is this womanizer. And Rosalina has been taken from her father to pay his debts, carted all the way to Scotland.”

I smile now, tilting my chin down so I can meet her eyes. “Rosalina, huh?”

She blushes. “It was the first time I saw something like my name, but that’s not the reason it’s my favorite. It’s—she’s scared at first, and when they auction her off—”

“Theywhat?”

Ro is looking at me now, her finger to her mouth. “Let me finish. They auction her off and Callan puts in the most money—no one knowswhyhe would want to settle down. He can have any woman he wants, but no one understands that he’s lonely.”

My stomach hollows out a bit and I look back down at the shirtless man on the cover.Yeah, Callan, I get it.

“But Rosalina does. Because she’s lonely, too.” Her lips press together and she tucks her hair back behind her ears. “To be loved is to be seen—and she’s the first person to really see him. That’s why they fall in love.”

It’s quiet, except for the music humming low in the background.

I’m lonely, I want to say, almost desperate to compare myself in some way to the oiled-up man that Ro clearly has a soft spot for.Can you see me? Can you feel how lonely I am?

Are you lonely, too?

Ro reaches to touch my hand, but only pulls the paper towel away from my skin, blowing lightly on the tattoo as I speak nearly into her hair.

“I… I liked to read. I mean— I like books. I couldn’t read well, as a kid.”Nor can I now, I think, but refrain from saying. Even though I know she’s well aware now and would never tease me about it. “But my mom used to readHarry Potterto me. And thenLord of the Rings, Eragon— I loved them.”

But then I got older and decided skating with my friends and blowing off my curfew was more fun than listening to my mom’s voice. And before I could get my brain fucking right, my mom got so sick she couldn’t hold her head up, let alone read me a fucking book, so I never finished any of the ones we started.

And now I won’t. Ever.

Clenching my jaw, I wait for the wave of grief to recede.

Ro looks up at me, not realizing how close we are. I can see the flecks of pure gold in the swirling moss of her eyes.

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