When in Rome(32)

“Yes. You’re at my sisters’ house. They’re going to keep an eye on you tonight.”

She lets out a sound between misery and embarrassment, never opening her eyes. “Noooo. They were gonna be my friends. Now they won’t want to be.”

I frown and use my knuckles to wipe away the tear that has just streaked down the side of her cheek. “Why do you think that?”

“High maintenance.” She pauses and I think maybe she fell back to sleep before she speaks again. “People only like me when I’m easy.” With her eyes closed, her brows squeeze together and another tear drops down the side of her face. “Must always be polite.”

I shouldn’t, but I use my hand to smooth away another one of her tears, because I can’t stand seeing them streaking down her face. Amelia catches my hand with hers and squeezes it. I know she’s loopy out of her mind—evidence that her eyes are still shut and her words are practically one long slur. But there’s a raw honesty that cuts painfully through the triple-reinforced walls of my heart.

“But not with you.” She nuzzles her cheek against the back of my hand. “I don’t have to be polite with you because you don’t like me anyways.”

“That’s not true,” I say, more to myself than her.

She hums. “My mom used to be my best friend—but she only likes me for my money now. Susan only cares about my success. And the world only wants me for Rae Rose.” There’s a long pause as she sighs deeply. “I’m drowning and no one sees me.”

I’m speechless as Amelia continues pressing my hand against her soft face like it’s the most precious thing she’s ever held. It’s agony and heaven to have her confide in me. To feel her holding me like she needs me. I shut my eyes against her words, because, dammit, I don’t want to feel anything toward her, but I do. She’s hurting and lonely and for some reason, I care deeply that she not feel either of those things. I’ve worked very hard ever since Merritt to not let another woman have so much power over my heart again, and of course, this woman—the most unavailable one—is who squeezed her way through the bars and is making me feel things.

It’s not infatuation. Not even lust. It’s the worst of all the feelings…care.

Care is reckless because it doesn’t come with the seat belt that selfishness offers. Care has so much to lose, and almost always ends in heartbreak. Unfortunately, I’m powerless against keeping my heart in check around her anymore. There’s a very short list of people in my life that I allow myself to truly care for, and it looks like I just added another name to it.

I push Amelia’s hair back from her ear so I know she can hear me. “I see you.”





Chapter 13


    Amelia


I’m in a different house—one that is definitely not Noah’s. The last thing I remember, I was at Hank’s Bar. And now I’m waking up in a strange bed. Panic is hovering on the seams of my consciousness until I realize this room is incredibly feminine. A pretty floral comforter is lying on top of me, the color palette olive, dusty pink, and cream. There are succulents on the windowsill and a giant bouquet of flowers beside the bed. And I’m still in my clothes.

The sound of whispering female voices (that are doing a very poor job of actually keeping their voices down) floats through the closed door, and now with a sigh of relief, I know where I am.

“Should we wake her up?”

“No. The doc said to let her sleep.”

The doc?

It all suddenly comes back to me in broken fragments. Feeling weird and woozy at the bar. Realizing I took a sleeping pill and then drank alcohol. And then lots of memories featuring Noah’s green eyes: beside me at the bar, looking down at me in his truck, in an exam room as a doctor pried my eyelids open and shined a light into them. And then one more view of his startling green eyes staring at me in the dark—not worried, but something else…

I cringe, shutting my blurry eyes and groaning. I bet I made a real ass out of myself last night. If he didn’t hate me already, he really does now. Maybe that’s why I’m here instead of at his house. He packed my bags and kicked me out. I wouldn’t blame him if he did.

“It’s almost ten o’clock. Shouldn’t we at least make sure she’s still alive in there?” That voice most definitely belongs to Madison.

“Fine, but just peek in to see if she’s still among the living and then we leave her be. Noah will murder us if he finds out we woke her up.” And that’s Emily.

“I still can’t believe he sat beside her bed all night and monitored her. Did you take a picture? I’m so mad I didn’t—Ow!” says Madison, with a loud yelp on the end.

“No, she didn’t take a picture. How are you so rude, Maddie?”

“Me? Annie’s the one who’s always pinching me! Will you quit it?”

“I prefer pinching to arguing,” says Annie in a better whisper than either of the other two sisters.

And, wait wait wait. Did they say Noah sat by my bed all night and monitored me? My gaze slides beside the bed to an innocently empty accent chair that is now pulsing with importance. It’s angled toward the bed. Noah sat in that chair all night and made sure I was taken care of. I’m here. You’re safe, I remember him saying.