Thank you, everyone, for the birthday wishes and for being so understanding :3

Rose POV

Some time away from the city would be good for me—that was their reasoning when Abe sold me the idea. He thought I needed to get away from everything for a while and not spend my days on the couch, lost in my own grief. I only said yes because it meant I could have two weeks with no therapy.

At the rate I was going, I would need therapy for my therapy. The new guy wanted to start from the beginning and laid everything out; it brought back nightmares and memories I'd rather leave buried.

I had to wait over a week before I could see Mason clearly again. Regular painkillers didn't dull my ability to see ghosts, but in higher doses or when it was the good stuff, I lost the connection. It was just like when I drank or got high. Or when I was giving the antipsychotics. I always became so numb on those; I felt like I lost part of myself each time.

Mason kept close, just as promised. He knew why I was struggling so much. Dimitri knew as well. The way he looked at me felt too knowing—too aware—and made me shrink back from him. He had already seen too many of my worst moments; I refused to show more.

I stared directly at the wall in front of me—sat in the first row, so we had more legroom. Dimitri was beside me with a book in hand, but he hadn't flipped the page in a while. I could feel his eyes on me, but I never turned to face him; I even went as far as to put on headphones despite not having music playing. The added sound would just worsen my headache.

I avoided flying because of the headache it brought on. I never had an issue before I could see ghosts, but now I gained a splitting migraine. I wasn't sure if I was just more sensitive to the change in altitude or if it was caused by my brain injury. Whatever it was, I hated it.

Figures flashed in the corner of my eye, flickering in and out of existence. Glimpses of the dead that hovered between our world and the next; I only ever saw them when I had the migraines—even Mason never saw those ones. They never spoke or stayed around for more than a few seconds; they would stare at me and then be gone. After a while, I could ignore them, but the pain in my head remained.

"Everything okay?" Dimitri questioned, his head angled closer to mine so I could hear him. He asked despite the headphones. He knew nothing played.

I sighed and took them off; I still didn't look at him and stared at my wrist brace instead. The material was itchy. "I'm fine," I muttered as I rubbed my temples.

"Do you want something for the pain?"

Dimitri carried all my painkillers, tucked in small containers with their names on them. Despite my refusal to take the strong stuff, it was packed just in case. My teeth caught my bottom lip, and I chewed on it as indecision filled me. Another figure appeared beside me; out of habit, I turned, but they were gone before I got a good look at them. What I saw was enough to give me chills, their hand outstretched to me, and a harrowing look in their eyes.

"Rose?"

"I'll take something," I relented, eyes on my lap. Not seeing them would be worth being unable to see any ghosts for a while.

Dimitri stood and retrieved his carry-on, being subtle as he pulled out the collection of painkillers for me. He first offered me the smaller pill, but I shook my head and pointed to the unopened bottle. His eyes snapped to mine in concern before he opened the lid and passed me a pill. "You should have said something if it was that bad."

I swallowed the pill and chased it with water. "It wasn't before, and now it is." With my eyes closed, I reclined in my seat and willed the pounding headache away.

It didn't take long—twenty minutes after swallowing it, I felt the fuzzy edges and the pull of sleep. My eyelids were heavy, but I forced them open to look around. All the ghosts were gone. A smile pulled at my lips, the sense of relief almost overwhelming—it was quiet again. I felt a hand cover mine, and I turned to Dimitri. My movements were sluggish, and it took me a moment to focus on him properly without beaming at him. He was still taking care of me despite everything he saw.

"Is that better?"

"Very."

He hummed, brushing a lock of hair behind my ear. A flicker of something crossed his face. His mouth opened to speak, but his lips pressed together, and he shook his head. "Try to sleep. I'll wake you when we land."

My eyes closed as he spoke, and his words faded as I fell deep into the darkness.

Leaving the airport and getting the rental was relatively easy; it helped that I still couldn't see the ghosts. I felt a slight chill, but it was distant, like a blanket between me and a piece of ice. Dimitri stayed close to my side, hovering with a concerned expression, especially when we had to cross the road at the terminal. I was surprised when he took my hand, squeezing it so I couldn't slip out of his grasp.

I couldn't remember much from the accident; even during it, I was focused on the crows and saving the girl rather than the approaching vehicle. Dimitri had witnessed the impact. I couldn't blame him for being freaked out about me near traffic.

I was grateful to sit once we had the rental, Dimitri merging on the highway as I reclined the passenger seat.

"Just an hour's drive," Dimitri reminded me gently, "My mother promised to save some dinner for us if you can wait until we get there to eat."

I hummed, turning my head away and closing my eyes. I couldn't remember if he said anything else as I was pulled back into a deep slumber.

XxX

Dimitri POV

It wasn't a long drive, but I was exhausted by the time we pulled up in front of my mother's house. The blue door was a welcoming sight, it had been months since I visited. The last time was when I returned for Ivan's funeral. That day felt worlds away, and yet the ache in my chest remained the same.

I glanced at Rose, unable to hold back my smile. I never thought I would bring a woman with me to spend Christmas with my family—especially not under these circumstances. Yet, I was excited to introduce them. The woman who was a spitfire and caused more stress than I could have anticipated, and ended up making me care more than I thought I could. I stared at her longer than I usually would, and had caught myself doing so often in the past few weeks.

She could have died.

The car accident played in my head on a loop. Some nights, I dreamt of it. I couldn't break free of the memory and had to watch her get hit over and over again. Sometimes it would be different, but only in that when I reached her body, there was no pulse.

If I didn't dream of the accident, it would be of her begging for me to help her at the hospital. The broken pleas and sobs while I stood back and did nothing.

So much had happened in such a short amount of time, I hadn't had the chance to process what happened afterwards. The paper cup on the floor continued to plague me. How could it fly across the room like it did? There was no logical reasoning.

The only alternative left was even harder to accept, and I struggled to do so. If I did…then I had been wrong every time I thought Rose was a liar.

How could I ever earn her forgiveness for never believing her?

Rose didn't want to speak to me—barely looked at me. I knew I caused that rift between us when I yelled at her. I broke that trust and didn't know what I could do to fix it. The offer to get her out of the city was my last chance to make it up to her. Maybe I would be able to help her heal a little.

I struggled to believe in ghosts, but I knew someone who did.

The light on the porch turned on, the door opening enough for my mother to peek out without letting all the warmth out of the home. I waved at her; a piece of me clicked back in place. It always did when I returned. Home was the one place I never had to hide my thoughts and feelings.

Rose hadn't stirred, curled up on the passenger seat with her injured wrist cradled against her chest. The bruises had faded, healing cuts on her skin. If you weren't aware, you wouldn't know she had thrown herself in front of a vehicle to save a stranger. She was selfless and caring, but no one would give her a second glance if they knew her medical history.

I hadn't.

I reduced her to a diagnosis written on a piece of paper and didn't question it. From the beginning, I believed it was all in her head—even our deal was with the understanding I would never judge her, and even that was a lie. The moment she tried to open up to me I broke my promise.

A knock at my window startled me. My mother was beside the car, wrapped in a thick coat and puffs of smoke as she breathed. I pulled on my coat and climbed out of the car to pull her into a tight hug. She chuckled, holding me just as fiercely.

"You'll freeze if you keep sitting out here," she told me, tutting at me the same as she did when I was a child. Her hands were chilled when they framed my face, staring up at me with eyes so similar to mine. "You look tired."

"I am," I admitted.

"Hurry and get inside where it's warm," she encouraged, and then ducked her head to peer into the car, "Is that Roza?"

"Yes. She took something for the pain, but it makes her sleep."

"Take her inside. I made up the spare room so she wouldn't have to take the stairs."

I smiled, grateful for the kindness of my mother—exactly what Rose needed. I crossed to the passenger door, easing it open so as not to wake Rose; we didn't speak, but I knew she wasn't sleeping well. Any rest I could provide, I would give.

She didn't stir, so deeply asleep that she didn't wake even when I removed her seatbelt and lifted her from the seat. The chilled air hit her, and she curled up in my arms, turning to bury her face into my chest. Chasing the warmth, that was all.

Thankfully, the spare room was at the front of the house, and I didn't need to pass through the kitchen, where I heard voices. I recognised each of them, excited to see my family after months apart, but I didn't want to force Rose to interact with them seconds after waking up.

My mother had set up the bed, a thick blanket already pulled back and pillows arranged. I laid Rose down carefully, slipping off her shoes and pulling up the blanket to cover her. As I turned to leave, her fingers curled around mine.

"Dimitri?"

I spun back around to find her half-open eyes on me, still dazed from sleep. "We are at my mother's house. You can go back to sleep," I soothed. It seemed to be enough. She gave a slight nod that might have been more of her nodding off again. Rose's head laid on the pillow, and her eyes closed. I stayed and listened to her breaths to even out again and then for a moment longer to make sure the peaceful look on her face didn't leave.

When I returned to the car, Paul was out helping gather the bags; a beaming smile on his face when he saw me. He began to tell me about his classes and how he was already the tallest. It felt so mundane after the past months. I welcomed the change.

The visit to my family was needed as much for me as it was for Rose. We both needed to get away from the city and the memories it held.

I hadn't stayed awake for long and didn't sleep for long either. The sun barely risen when I walked down the stairs to the kitchen. Moving about the house was like second nature—everything was in the same spot since I was a teenager. No one else enjoyed coffee as much as I did, but my mother knew and always made sure to have some in the pantry and the machine ready to use. I smiled to myself as I turned it on; it wouldn't be as good as the coffee I had grown used to at Abe's, but it would do.

I stared out the kitchen window as the water heated, watching dawn break and light begin to shine. I became so engrossed in it that I didn't hear her footsteps until she yawned. I spun, surprised to find a half-awake Rose limping into the room.

She still wore her clothes from the night before, mismatched socks covering the wrap on her ankle, and the brace on her wrist. Her hair was a bit wild, but it still looked silky. "Hey, comrade, where's the bathroom?"

I pointed down the hall, then paused. "Comrade?" I wouldn't usually mention it, but it had been weeks since she used the nickname. I missed it.

Rose froze, muttering a silent curse before her eyes dropped. Her arms curled around her stomach, shifting from one foot to the other. "Sorry. It's just… Mason started–" Her lips pressed together in a frown.

"It's okay," I tried to assure her, but she had already spun on her heel and escaped down the hall. With a sigh, I turned back to the window and stared outside.

Mason.

Was he the one who knocked the cup?

My fingers tapped on the counter. I needed to tell her. But how?

I heard her footsteps after a few minutes; I glanced at the warming coffee machine and had an idea. "Are you hungry?"

Rose halted mid-step back towards her room; she would quite meet my eyes, but at least she didn't ignore me. "I guess," she mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

"Go get dressed," I encouraged. She looked ready to argue but just sighed dramatically before nodding. I turned off the coffee machine and found a pen and notepad in case my mother woke before we returned.

I needed to talk to Rose, and I rathered it not be in the house; I knew it could go either way. Either Rose would accept my apology, or the distance between us had become too much, and I wouldn't be able to mend it.

Rose was quiet the entire drive to the coffee shop; she had turned up the music and stared out the window. I tried a couple of times to start a conversation, but they fell flat. My fingers wrapped tight around the steering wheel, stressed that it might already be too late.

I shouldn't be surprised how quickly she pushed me away; when we first met, she never met friends or interacted with people much except online. It was a way of protecting herself, and I couldn't blame her. Too many had turned their back on her before.

The fact she was on the trip meant there was some possibility. I just had to grasp it.

"What do you think of the town so far?" I asked, fingers turning the dial so she would hear me over the music.

Rose shrugged, "Looks like a town." She turned the volume back up.

"Okay," I mumbled, tensing my fingers again.

A few cars parked out front of the coffee shop and people were seated at the tables out front. It was a locally owned venue and always managed to draw a crowd for their pastries. One of the few ways I knew to put Rose in a good mood was anything chocolate.

"It's good we're early," I explained as we climbed out of the car, "they only make a certain amount each day and will sell out by nine."

I didn't receive more than a grumble in response as she wrapped her coat around her. Rose was still limping as she walked; I followed closely behind in case she slipped on the icy ground.

Inside was thankfully warm; the owners had taken an old diner and transformed it. They kept the fifties theme with a jukebox, brightly coloured walls and neon lights. Tables were set up around the windows for people to enjoy the view while they ate and had their drinks, with waitresses busying about. I guided Rose to the counter, taking two of the stools; they were pink and made Rose pull a face.

She looked around the place, a smile growing. "I'm not surprised you would like a place like this," she smirked—a hint of her old self reemerging, "Did you bring girls here and ask them to go steady?"

I grinned; it was a good sign. "I've never said those words."

"You're right," she nodded. "What would a cowboy say? Something about a horse?"

I rolled my eyes, happy to play along with the teasing. Before I could reply, a waitress stood behind the counter with a pen and pad ready. Her wavy blonde hair pulled back into a bun, and a colourful scarf tied around her head; she smiled and greeted us cheerfully, "Welcome! What can I get started for you?"

Rose looked like a deer in the headlights, so I pointed at the menu in front of her, "Order anything you want," I told her, then began my order of treats for my family. By the time I had finished, Rose had added what she wanted. Once the waitress left, Rose became quiet again.

I shifted to angle my body towards her. "Rose, I wanted–"

"She was pretty," she announced.

"What?"

She nodded towards the blonde. "She was pretty. You should ask her name."

"I…" I rubbed the back of my neck, "I don't think so. Look, I would like to ask you something. I–"

Again, I was interrupted by the waitress returning with Rose's hot chocolate and Danish. "Just working on your coffee and to-go order," she beamed. "Is there anything else I can get you?"

I shook my head, but Rose spoke up. "What's your name?"

The waitress tilted her head but happily replied, "Sandra."

I already knew where it was going.

"Are you seeing someone, Sandra?" Rose asked bluntly. I rested my hand on Rose's arm, giving her an exasperated look before I turned to Sandra.

"I'm sorry, you can ignore her. We are fine, thank you."

Maybe a coffee shop wasn't the best place to have the conversation.

I waited until Sandra had moved further down the counter and turned back to Rose, pleading, "Please, don't start that again."

She shrugged, "What? I'm helping you." Rose pulled her cup closer, sniffing it before taking a sip. "Bet your mom would have preferred if you brought a real date to Christmas instead of a crazy person."

"You aren't crazy."

"Sure," she scoffed.

"Rose," I tried again, "I don't think you're crazy." I licked my lips, preparing what to say. "When I was visiting you at the hospital–"

"What about her?" Rose cut me off, pointing at another woman sitting by the window. I looked, then frowned, knowing what she was doing. "She's cute, and she's reading. I wonder if it's a Western."

"At the hospital, I–"

"Okay," Sandra announced, placing two boxes and a coffee in front of me, "that's everything."

Rose was already standing with her drink and Danish in hand, limping to the door. I felt myself deflate and stood as well, taking my order. "Thanks."