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-35-

Rose

July 13, 2023

Lighthouse Cove, Maine

I wake up the morning after my night out with the girls with a pounding head and a rolling stomach. I can't stumble out of the bed and make my way down the hall fast enough. I scarcely make it to the toilet to begin my morning prayers to the porcelain gods.

Fuck, I haven't drank that much in a long time. Maybe ever.

I know that's not true, but right now it fucking feels it as my back presses to the tub, the thin fabric doing nothing to shield my skin from the cool enamel.

Hangovers have gotten tougher for me in recent years. With my age came the wisdom to let myself sober up enough before bed that I'm not sick in the morning, but on those rare occasions where I slip up and break my own rules…man, I regret it the next day.

Shakily, I make my way back to my feet, gripping onto the sink to steady myself as I brush my teeth and regain a little strength before I head back to the room where I know Emmett will be snoring away.

That man can sleep through anything, honestly.

Falling back into my bed, I let my breath blow out my newly minty mouth, staring at the slats that make up my ceiling.

I'm reflecting, replaying the past few days of my life like I have every chance I've gotten to have a moment to myself, but this time it's not filled with the newness and excitement of Emmett.

Sure, there's a lot of that there. But there's something creeping along the edges, blurring the lines. Some sort of uncertainty. Unease. Unfulfillment.

Emmett blew into my life and reminded me what happiness looks like…and now everything else in my world pales in comparison.

I've heard the phrase before; you can't see the Forrest through the trees. But what happens when someone comes and grabs your hand to drag you past the edge of the tree line.

A whole new world opens to you, and suddenly…suddenly you don't want to turn back.

The world behind you holds no more appeal, and you're hungry to find out what lies in the woods.

I may not have realized it, but I'm starving.

…

A greasy breakfast with the six of us soaks up the acid in my stomach enough for Emmett and I to enjoy a day on the beach, soaking up the sun with my little bluetooth speaker playing The Beach Boys and Fleetwood Mac as the soundtrack of our time together. Emmett went for a quick swim, after his appalling discovery that I am incapable of the act, and that unfortunately allowed me a little too long to look into my own mind.

It's been two days since the video shoot, and two days prior to that Emmett showed me the record store. Space from those moments has given me time to look back on why those events were so special to me, aside from Emmett's electrifying presence.

How long has it been since I've felt the sort of peace the record shop brought me?

And when was the last time work made me feel alive. Like I was making a difference and my opinions matter.

It makes me rethink everything.

I don't think I've ever really put much intention into the decisions I've made in life. I liked music, so I took classes that aligned with that interest. Production boards were kind of cool to me and there was a buzz around them, a sort of challenge in the air that radio was a dying art that I wanted to prove wrong. And I did. I've had a huge hand in bringing the station up in popularity and integrating them onto the internet so they didn't get lost to the stone ages of old technology.

But what comes next?

I'll never run the entire station. Aro and his family have owned it since conception, and his son is already on the board ready to take over.

I can't help but compare my relationship with the station to the one with Royce. It seemed like my dreams had come true in the beginning, but after all this time…

I've settled into what's comfortable.

I'm no longer being presented with a challenge, and it's not feeding my soul.

Life is way too fucking short to waste time doing anything that doesn't feed my soul.

I've wasted enough with Royce, and I've taken steps to fix my mistakes when it comes to that and free myself from the way he held me down.

Am I capable of doing that with the station?

Where else would I go? What else would I do?

And am I only thinking any of this because it would mean working with Emmett would no longer be a problem?

I've made too fucking many decisions in my life based around a man. I'm not about to make that mistake again.

"You're doing it again," Emmett's rumbling bass interrupts my thoughts and I shade my eyes to look up at him.

But man, oh man, does none of that seem to matter when all I want is to spread my legs and let this man sink down on top of me.

"Doing what?" I reply, eyes following the drops of water running down the ridges of his torso and dripping from his hair, curlier from the salt water.

"Thinking too much. What's on your mind?" He plops down on the blanket next to where I was previously enjoying a blissful session of gawking and doom spiraling.

"Crazy shit," I shake my head, pursing my lips and avoiding his gaze.

"My favorite. Will you talk to me about it?" He's so fucking earnest when he asks, I instantly want to spill my guts.

Instead, air whooshes out of me because I'm not sure I'm ready for this level of vulnerability. It's one thing to second guess your own life in your own mind, but to discuss the matter out loud to someone you have a romantic relationship with seems awfully…couple-y.

On the other hand, if anyone is going to understand my predicament it's going to be Emmett, who knows the industry and the station intimately.

"You're overthinking your overthinking here, Rose," he finally says, nudging me with his shoulder.

"Fuck, I know, I just…shit." My head falls into my hands because it's fucking spinning trying to make sense of all of this.

"Rose," his tone is more of a command, forcing me to lock eyes with him without conscious effort to do so. "Let me in."

My lip is stuck between my teeth, my brain flip-flopping on whether I'm ready for everything life is pushing me toward.

"It's about work," I admit. "I mean I love my job, don't get me wrong, but I'm just not sure it's right for me anymore."

"It's not," he states matter-of-factly.

"Excuse me?" My head whips, trying to make sense of his words.

"What? Everyone knows you've outgrown it there. You knew it, too, which is why you started those graphic design classes. I think everyone has assumed you've had a plan to move on for a long time now."

As much as I'm astounded to hear that I seem to have this reputation I knew nothing about, what's more important is that I realize that he doesn't know I never finished the classes. I tried, for about a week, but Royce had gotten into my head about it and turned it into this terrible, negative thing. I lost my joy in it, so I dropped the classes and lost out on the money and didn't look back.

And my guilt must be written all over my face.

"No…no, Rose, don't tell me that asshole talked you out of those classes." His disappointment is written all over his face, and honestly that bothers me more than my own shame.

"He didn't really talk me out of them, I just," I shrug, throwing my head back and sighing into the sky because suddenly I'm very fucking anxious and I need to breathe. "I don't know, it just put a sour taste in my mouth about the whole thing."

"God fucking damn it," he curses, punching the sand next to him. "Shit, I thought you'd graduated by now and were just waiting for the right offer to find you."

"Hardly," I scoff. "Take me off of that pedestal you have me on, Em. It's not good for either of us."

"Nah, I'm not buying that shit," he shakes his head, turning it to look at me again and his face relaxes a little, his frustration ebbing but still floating around the edges. "Maybe you're the one that needs to realize you've fucking earned that pedestal."

Jesus. I want to protest, and I do open my mouth to speak, but—

"No, stop." Emmett holds his hand up. "Don't even try to argue with me about that. You've busted your ass to get where you are, Rose. You had the courage to realize your marriage was shit and get out of it, and I know you've spent the past year feeling like you're broken or some shit, but baby that's called healing. There's not a goddamn thing wrong with you, and the sooner you realize that the better off you're going to be."

It doesn't compute how this man can read me the way he does and knows exactly what to say to instantly put me at ease. I like that he's a little tough on me but in a way that's only seated in his adoration for me — that lifts me up, instead of tearing me me down.

It's refreshing.

It's terrifying.

But he's also fucking right.

Royce did some damage. Any failed relationship does, and I've been doing myself a disservice by not acknowledging that.

I can't let it go if I won't admit it's there to begin with.

This beautiful man in front of me, he fucking blows me away. Seeing him so indignant in my honor…I'm not used to it.

"You need to get your ass back in those classes." He states it firmly, as if there's no room for argument, but somehow I'm not feeling pressured either.

No, I'm feeling fucking empowered.

Yet still there's that small voice in my head telling me I can't do it. It's a voice I'm familiar with, one I've relentlessly spent my life trying to stifle. Except instead of stifling it this time, I have someone in my corner helping me destroy it.

"What am I going to do with them when I'm done?" I ask, because destruction takes a little time. Especially when this voice has been with me for a long, long time.

"Doesn't matter. You'll figure it out. The right door is going to open for you, but you won't be able to take the opportunity when it's presented if you don't take those classes."

Smash.

"Why does it matter so much to you?" My voice is small, weak from the fight.

"I'll keep saying it as long as you need me to. Because you're fucking worth it, and I'm not going to stand by and let you sell yourself short."

Bang.

"Even if you decide you're done with me in a few days, I'm going to do my damndest in the meantime to get your stubborn ass to see it."

Knock-out.