Page 49 of Rose
“I wanted to give you something comfortable,” Taylor said, stretching her arms with a sleepy grin. “But you were already knocked out by the time I came back downstairs. I didn’t want to wake you.”
Truth was, she didn’t know how long she’d been out… or how long she’d been sitting there, lost in the blank hum of the TV screen. Lately, every day felt like a simulation—one she couldn’t exit, couldn’t escape.
“It’s fine,” she said quietly, taking the phone Taylor handed her. “You’ve already done more than enough.”
Her screen lit up with a long scroll of missed calls and unread messages from Kyre, Maz… and Kiyan. Her stomach turned.
“I’m about to go get dressed real quick, then I’ll take you home,” Taylor offered, already halfway toward the stairs.
Ahzii blinked. She hadn’t even realized she didn’t drive herself here.
“You don’t have to do that. I can just grab an Uber.”
Taylor stopped mid-step and threw her a look.
That signature mug.
It always caught Ahzii off guard—adorably serious, especially coming from someone who rarely wore anything but a smile.
“Girl, please. I’m taking you home. I need to head to the shop anyway and open up,” Taylor said, tossing her locs over her shoulder. “Don’t need my boss firing me.”
That made Ahzii crack a real smile. Taylor always found a way to lift the fog, even if just for a moment.
“I’ll be right back. Just give me twenty,” Taylor called as she jogged up the stairs.
Ahzii didn’t argue this time. She just sat, quietly waiting—twisting the chain the held her wedding ring around her fingers, thinking of all the things she wasn’t ready to face.
Twenty minutes later, Taylor came back down fully dressed, keys in hand. Together, they stepped out into the new morning and climbed into her Jeep, heading toward the place Ahzii called home.
But home didn’t feel like home right now.
And even surrounded by familiar things, Ahzii wasn’t sure she’d find herself there either.
???
The steady hum of the tattoo gun vibrated through Ahzii’s hand as she worked on the woman’s ribs, the buzzing sound blending with the mellow music drifting from her surround speakers. This—right here in her private suite atThe Escape Room—was the only place she felt in control.
It was Saturday, and the shop was alive with its usual vibrant energy.
Muffled sounds pushed against the closed door—men arguing over stats and scores, women tossing around the latest gossip, someone laughing from the front desk. It was the kind of noise that normally made her feel connected. Today, it just felt heavy.
She needed the silence of this room. She needed to disappear into her work.
Wiping away the excess ink, Ahzii continued shading the intricate flower wrapping around the woman’s ribs. Each motion was precise, fluid—almost like therapy.
Then the door swung open.
Ahzii didn’t even have to look up. The scent of Chanel Chance told her everything.
Kyre.
She stood in the doorway, framed like a storm waiting to break. A tailored black Dior pantsuit clung to her curves, flashing a hint of cleavage. Red-bottom heels clicked against the floor as she stepped in, all power and poise. Whether she was coming from work or heading to it, she didn’t say.
“Hey, Ky.”
Ahzii kept her tone light, casual, but she already knew Kyre was holding something back. The silence said more than words. No greeting. No smile. Just tension.
She didn’t leave. Didn’t sit. Just stood.
