Page 32 of When We Fall: Part Two
“Yeah. Yeah, that would be good. We can meet up.”
“Stay safe, Fox. I’d lose it if something were to happen to you. I love you.”
“I love you too, Dad,” I said softly.
“We’ll talk soon. Keep your head up.”
I agreed and we said goodbye. I placed my phone back on my nightstand and opened the drawer. Carefully, I lifted the coin out and swallowed hard as I stared at it.
I really was going to have to push the damn thing.
I sat staringout my bedroom window later that afternoon as the rain drizzled down. I’d not bothered to go downstairs yet today. I knew I needed to, but my mind was so full of what-ifs and what-the-fucks that I couldn’t be bothered to go.
I didn’t even hear Rosalie come into my room, but she did. She slid onto my lap in the green sundress Cole was adamant she needed. I had to hand it to him. He knew how to dress her. She looked incredible in it.
“Foxy?” she murmured, cradling my face. “I’m worried about you.”
I took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “I’m fine, baby. Just tired.”
“You’ve been in here for most of the week. Is everything OK?”
“No, but when is it ever?”
She frowned at me. “What can I do?”
I studied her pretty face for a moment, my heart hurting. “Nothing. You’re perfect. This is a me problem. It’s just afunk. They happen. Probably because I’m just stressed. Football season is coming and all that.”
“And I’m marrying Enzo,” she said softly.
“Yeah. And that.” No sense in lying to her about it.
“I want us to be together. All of us. You know I have to?—”
“I know. I get it. I just wish…” I sighed. I wished for so many fucking things. Nothing I said would change the plan. She was going to marry him. She thought she was saving us all. Enzo wouldn’t relent. It was set in stone, so it was up to me to handle it.
It was up to me to save her.
I knew Enzo and the guys loved her to pieces. We are young and stupid. We do stupid shit. Cocky. Big egos. I understood it all. I just didn’t want this for her.
“Are you going to talk to Anson about reaching out to Alex for your contract?” I asked.
“No. I’m done with that.”
“Rosie—”
“Fox. It’s OK. I accept this. It’s not like I’ll never make music again. I can teach it and help others. I’m good with that.”
I clenched my jaw and looked out the window again.
“You’re making a mistake,” I said.
“It’s my mistake to make.”
“I know. I only wish you’d reconsider.”
“Maybe someday, but I don’t want to think about that. I want to see you smile for me. I miss you. I’m worried about you. We all are.”
“I’m fine. It’s just stress. It’s a funk. I’ll be OK. I promise.”
