Reagan’s POV
The room had been quiet for so long that I had almost forgotten what it felt like to hear Rose speak.
She lay on the bed with her eyes closed, but I could tell she wasn’t asleep. Her breathing was too uneven, and every few minutes her fingers moved slightly against the blanket.
I stayed in the chair.
I didn’t know what else to do.
That was becoming a problem.
I was used to knowing what to do when people were angry. I knew how to handle threats, negotiations, betrayal, violence. I knew how to make men twice my age reconsider their decisions without raising my voice.
But Rose?
I had no idea.
I looked at her again.
She opened her eyes.
Our gazes met.
Something in her expression made my stomach tighten.
She looked angry.
Not the irritated kind of anger I’d seen from her before. This was deeper. Her eyes were still wet, tears slipping down the sides of her face and disappearing into her hair, but there was something sharper beneath them now.
I straightened.
"Rose."
She looked away.
I frowned.
"What?"
Her laugh was quiet.
Bitter.
"What?"
I didn’t answer.
She wiped her cheek with the back of her hand, but another tear immediately followed.
"You really don’t get it, do you?"
I stared at her.
"Get what?"
Her eyes snapped back to mine.
"Me."
The word landed harder than it should have.
I leaned forward slightly.
"I came here."
"After three days."
I went quiet.
She sat up slowly, pushing herself against the headboard.
"Three days, Reagan."
"I didn’t know."
"Exactly."
Her voice cracked.
"You didn’t know."
I didn’t have an answer for that.
She shook her head, looking away again.
"You didn’t know because you never bothered to look."
"That’s not true."
"It is."
Her eyes filled again.
"You’ve been around me for days, Reagan. You’ve seen me. You’ve walked past me. You’ve spoken to me. You just didn’t care enough to notice that something was wrong."
My jaw tightened.
"I care."
The words came out before I thought about them.
Rose stared at me.
For some reason, that made me uncomfortable.
I looked away.
I didn’t know why I’d said it so quickly.
Care?
Was that what this was?
The thought came and I immediately pushed it away.
No.
That wasn’t it.
I cared because she was part of the family. Because she was under my protection. Because she’d been threatened.
That was all.
At least, that’s what I told myself.
Rose’s voice pulled me back.
"You said you’re sorry."
"Yes."
"For the kisses."
I nodded.
She looked at me for several seconds.
"Do you even understand why I was upset?"
"I crossed a boundary."
"That’s part of it."
I waited.
She wiped another tear from her cheek.
"You kissed me whenever you wanted."
I didn’t interrupt.
"You surprised me with it, and then afterward you acted like it was nothing. Like I was supposed to just forget about it because you decided we were done talking about it."
Her voice became quieter.
"What if I didn’t want to forget?"
I swallowed.
"What if I wanted you to apologize?"
I looked at her.
"What if I wanted you to actually acknowledge what you did instead of just moving on?"
"I should have."
"Yes."
The answer came immediately.
I nodded.
"I know."
She scoffed.
"No, you don’t."
My expression tightened.
"I do."
"Then why did it take you this long?"
I had no answer.
She looked down at her hands.
"You always do that."
"Do what?"
"Make decisions for everyone."
I remained silent.
"You decide what people should feel. You decide what they’re allowed to know. You decide when a conversation is over. You decide when something is serious and when it isn’t."
Her eyes lifted again.
"And you don’t even realize you’re doing it."
That one hit harder.
Because I knew she was right.
I’d always been like that.
I’d grown up in a world where hesitation could get people hurt. You made a decision and everyone followed it. That was how things worked.
I’d never considered that Rose might not want to live by those rules.
"You scared me."
My chest tightened.
I looked at her.
"The other day," she continued. "You scared me."
I remembered.
The anger.
The way I’d lost control.
The way she’d looked at me.
I’d been too angry to notice properly then.
Now I couldn’t stop seeing it.
"I know."
"No."
She shook her head.
"You don’t."
I didn’t argue.
"You walked toward me like you were going to do something."
"I wasn’t going to hurt you."
"I know that now."
Her voice trembled.
"But I didn’t know then."
I stared at her.
She looked down again.
"I didn’t know what you were going to do."
Something tightened in my chest.
I hated that.
I hated the idea of her being afraid of me.
I’d spent my entire life making people afraid of me because it was useful.
But Rose?
That was different.
It shouldn’t have mattered.
Yet it did.
More than I wanted it to.
I stood.
Rose’s eyes followed me.
I took one step toward the bed, then stopped.
I didn’t know what I was supposed to do.
She was crying.
What did I do?
Did I hug her?
Did I apologize again?
Did I leave?
I looked at her.
My hands flexed at my sides.
I had never felt so useless in my life.
She wiped her face again.
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came out.
She looked at me expectantly.
I had to say something.
Anything.
My eyes moved toward the plate on the table.
The first thing that came to my mind was the only thing I could manage.
"Have you eaten?"
Rose froze.
I immediately regretted it.
Of all the things I could have said, that was what came out?
She stared at me.
Her lips parted.
Then she gave a small, disbelieving laugh.
"Have I eaten?"
I said nothing.
She repeated it, this time with a mocking edge to her voice.
"Have I eaten?"
I looked away.
"Yes."
"That’s what you have to say?"
"I don’t know what else to say."
The admission slipped out quietly.
Rose stared at me.
I looked back at her.
"I don’t know what I’m supposed to do."
Her expression changed.
Not completely.
But enough.
I continued.
"You’re crying, and I don’t know if I should touch you. I don’t know if you want me near you. I don’t know if you want me to leave."
Her eyes softened for a fraction of a second before the anger returned.
"So you ask if I’ve eaten?"
I exhaled.
"It was the first thing I thought of."
She shook her head.
"Of course."
She wiped her cheeks again.
"You’re unbelievable."
"I know."
She gave me a look.
I almost smiled.
Almost.
But she was still crying.
So I didn’t.
She looked away.
"I don’t want to talk anymore."
I nodded slowly.
"Okay."
She shifted as though she was going to lie back down.
Then she stopped.
Her eyes remained on the floor.
"I just wanted you to care about how I felt."
I stared at her.
"I do."
She shook her head.
"You say that now."
I didn’t know what to say.
She stood.
The movement was slow, like she was tired.
She walked past me.
I watched her.
She was heading toward the other side of the room, probably trying to put distance between us again.
I should have let her.
I knew that.
She’d made it clear that she’d been hurt because I hadn’t considered her feelings.
The last thing I needed to do was make another decision for her.
But something in me refused to let her walk away while she was crying.
I reached out.
My hand caught hers.
She stopped.
I froze.
For a second, neither of us moved.
Her hand was warm against mine.
She didn’t pull away immediately.
I stepped closer.
Then, before I could overthink it, I wrapped my arms around her from behind.
She went still.
My arms settled around her carefully, giving her enough room to pull away if she wanted.
She didn’t.
I lowered my head slightly, my cheek almost brushing her hair.
I could feel the tension in her body.
My hand rested against her stomach, moving slowly in a gentle, reassuring motion rather than gripping her.
I didn’t say anything.
For once, there was nothing I could say that wouldn’t make it worse.
So I held her.
And waited.
Rose remained silent in my arms, her breathing uneven as another tear slipped down her cheek.
I closed my eyes briefly.
I still didn’t understand why the thought of losing her had scared me so badly.
I didn’t understand why seeing her cry made something inside me hurt.
And I definitely didn’t understand why letting her walk away suddenly felt impossible.
But for the first time, I didn’t try to explain it away.
I simply stayed there.
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