Page 208 of Rosetti Family New York
“Watch out for the guards,” he warns. “They bite.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
I escape before I lose a finger, wandering through a long hallway, finally finding the door out into the garden.
The garden is like a jungle. A neat, expensive jungle where everything is under control. I stick to the path, still feeling caged. Security cameras wink at me like I’m the joke of the day. Tall hedges lead to a fountain with a statue of some naked Romanguy who looks miserable, probably from all the gray skies. I’m starting to relax when I spot something that makes my blood run cold. A small chocolate-colored dog, an oodle of some sort. I freeze, and my stomach twists into a knot as the memories come rushing back.
For a second, I can't move. It’s like time has stopped. I’m twelve again, and the world is crashing down around me. I snap out of it and turn, but the dog is faster. It’s barreling toward me like a runaway train, and my feet don’t want to cooperate. I trip over a perfectly manicured bush and land hard on the path. I hear a bark and scramble to get up. My heart is racing, pounding, thundering in my ears.
It’s getting closer. Too close.
“Get away,” I gasp. “Please, just get away.”
The dog skids to a stop and tilts its head. It looks happy. Friendly. The exact opposite of how I feel.
“Paz!” a voice is calling, but I can’t tell where it’s coming from. “Paz!”
I start to get up again, trying to remember how to breathe, but the dog circles me, curious, and I’m so dizzy with panic I can’t even stand.
“Stop it,” I beg. “Just stop it.”
Tears blur my vision, and I curl up into a ball. It’s too much, and the past is clawing at me. Suddenly, strong arms lift me, and I look up to see a familiar face, rough and serious.
“Gotcha,” Rafe says, picking me up like I weigh nothing.
I clutch his shirt and hold on, barely aware of where we’re going. The dog bounces around him, not helping. He doesn’t put me down until we’re inside and away from all the memories. Away from the thing I can’t bear to face.
The lounge room is as cold as the rest of the house, but it’s quiet, and I try to catch my breath. Rafe sets me on the couch and kneels in front of me, his ice-blue eyes softer than I’ve everseen them. He waits while I shiver and gasp, not saying a word, and that quiet concern breaks through the panic.
“I’m sorry,” I choke out. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“Forget it,” he says. “You okay?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head, feeling the tears again. “I’m really not.”
He watches me, and I can see the wheels turning in his head. I feel so exposed, like he can see right through me, but I can’t stop now. The words tumble out before I can catch them.
“It’s the dog,” I say. “I didn’t know… I couldn’t—”
“He’s harmless,” Rafe says, but his voice isn’t as sure as his words. “I swear.”
“It’s not that,” I say, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand, and it does nothing to stop the flood. “It’s me. I can’t… When I was a kid, I had a dog. We were playing, and I had a knife, and it was an accident, but it was bad, and—”
I stop, the memories crashing in again, feeling like I’m splitting open. Rafe’s hand is on mine. Warm and steady.
“And?” he prompts.
“Everyone thought I killed him,” I whisper. “Everyone thought I did it on purpose.”
He’s silent for a long moment, and I’m afraid to look up. Afraid to see what’s in those cold eyes of his.
“It was an accident,” I say. “Everyone thinks it wasn’t, but it was.”
My throat closes, like I’m eleven again, panicked and unable to breathe.
“I didn’t mean to,” I say.
I expect him to flinch. I’m used to seeing it, the moment they start to doubt me. He doesn’t.
