Page 27 of Dearly Unbeloved (Spicy in Seattle #3)

SIERRA

“ H oney, I’m home!”

What a fucking day .

I didn’t see Rose before I ran out the door this morning, but I left her a note, the last cranberry white chocolate muffin (that, admittedly, I hid from her yesterday morning because she pissed me off before I had coffee), and an iced latte in the fridge.

It’s been two months since we added sex to our arrangement, and I’m not sure when eating together became part of our routine, but it’s a regular occurrence.

It started with dinner. We never talk or debrief our days, just sit in relative silence while we eat—sometimes with the TV on, or watching the bunnies play—either before or after sex.

After sex, we tend to be a little nicer to each other. Before, all bets are off.

And then there were a couple of morning hookups, and the breakfasts that followed. Now, we eat breakfast together most mornings, and dinner almost every night. It’s fine, I suppose.

I walk into the apartment and stop short when I see the Post-it and muffin still sitting on the kitchen island. Even if she didn’t want the muffin—and it’s her favorite, so that’s unlikely—Rose would never leave anything on the counter, cluttering it. They haven’t moved at all. Is she not home?

The lights are on, but that doesn’t mean anything. Rose installed smart lights on a timer not long after we moved in together, because she complained that I always forgot to turn them off. I still think she just wanted an excuse for smart lights.

A scuffle commands my attention, and I spin around to see Dibbles sitting on top of the little wooden house I ordered for them. She and Thorne are still in their fenced-in area of the living room, but the gate’s open, which means Rose did at least open that at some point today.

Her bedroom door is closed, but I knock softly and open it when there’s no response. The room is pitch black, but I can see a shape under the covers thanks to the light from the living room.

“Rose?” I whisper.

There’s nothing but silence for a moment, and my heart stills until I see a small movement beneath the covers.

“Yeah?” Her voice is weak and scratchy, like she hasn’t spoken all day.

I’m across the room in a heartbeat, perching on the edge of her bed. I can’t see her face since she’s turned toward the wall, but I can see the yellow collar of the T-shirt she went to sleep in last night.

“What’s wrong? Are you sick?” Maybe she has whatever Jazz has. I reach for her forehead.

“I’m not sick.”

I snatch my hand back. Huh. “Okay… Did you go to work today?”

“No.” She sounds so fucking small, and it’s making my stomach flip-flop uncomfortably.

“Did you eat?”

“No. I fed the bunnies, though.”

I’m somewhat at a loss for what to say. She’s not giving me much to work with. “Can I do anything?”

Rose is quiet for a moment before tugging the covers higher up toward her chin. “I just want to be alone.”

My breath catches in my throat, and I stand up like she physically pushed me away, my stomach twisting. “Oh. Okay. Well… yeah. Okay.”

I leave the room and close the door, dragging my feet toward the couch. I pluck Thorne out of the enclosure before I sit down, placing him on my lap and running my hand over his soft little ears. Ever the jealous type, Dibbles hops over, jumping up on the couch to join us.

“At least you want to spend time with me,” I grumble, even though I definitely forced Thorne to be here, and I’m pretty sure Dibbles just wants to see if I have snacks.

I shouldn’t care that Rose doesn’t want me around.

It’s not like we’re friends. Sure, things have been a little more civil and a little more orgasm-y around here, but she still hates me, and I…

Well, we’re not friends. We’re temporary wives and roommates who happen to be sleeping together.

And even though we’re just that, it’s normal for me to be worried that she appears not to have functioned today.

It’s not like her—she barely naps, and spending a whole day in bed is almost unheard of.

In the time we’ve lived together, I could count on one hand the number of times she’s done this.

Every few months, I guess. It’s not like I ever paid much attention before.

I wrack my brain, trying to connect the scattered dots.

The start of May, when she bailed on a girls’ night with Jazz, and I was just happy she wasn’t there.

February, at Maggie and Cal’s anniversary party, when her mom kept asking if she was sick because her dark circles were so bad.

Just after Thanksgiving last year, when she barely ate for a few days.

Sometimes, she’s down for a day, sometimes longer. At the time, I think I just chalked it up to her being on her period. She always gets a little out of sorts a few days before. Jazz has PCOS, and though Rose’s periods aren’t nearly as bad, they’re still worse than most people’s.

Admittedly, Rose often seems a little out of sorts—a little sad.

For a while, I’ve suspected there was something going on with her—that there has been for a long time, if the long-faded scars on her thighs are anything to go by.

But sad or sick, she shouldn’t be on her own.

And right now, I’m the only one around. She can push me away all she wants, but that doesn’t mean I have to let her.

I sigh and gather the bunnies in my arms before standing up.

Dibbles buries her face in the crook of my neck, tickling my skin.

“Come on, you two. Let’s go make your mama mad by forcing our— your love on her,” I correct, shaking my head and starting for Rose’s bedroom. She has my brain so fucking fried.

The bunnies make opening her door tricky, but after a little finagling, I push it open with my knee.

I’m not being quiet, but I don’t believe Rose is really sleeping, anyway.

She hasn’t moved since I left the room, but I see her body tensing when the light floods through the door.

I close it and cross the room, kneeling on the bed and leaning over her to place Thorne and Dibbles in front of her.

Thorne immediately hops up to her pillow to nuzzle into her face, while Dibbles snuffles around the covers, probably still looking for snacks.

“What’s going on?” Rose asks, sounding groggy.

I lift the blankets and slide in beside her. It’s toasty. I grab Rose’s phone from the nightstand. “What’s your passcode? ”

“1723,” she answers, and it’s a testament to how out of sorts she is that she doesn’t refuse to give it to me.

I punch in the numbers and pause. 1723. January 17 th and October 23 rd are Xan and Jazz’s birthdays. That’s… surprisingly sentimental of her. I file it away for later.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” I say, setting an alarm and putting the phone down.

“You can rot for one more hour, but you’re going to have to put up with me and the bunnies cuddling you while you do it.

When the hour’s up, you don’t have to get out of bed, but you do have to come back to life, okay?

We’re ordering food, and you’re going to eat, hydrate, and talk. Deal?”

Rose turns her head a fraction toward me, but not enough that I can see her face. “Why?” she asks, her voice small.

I lie down and sling my arm over her, snuggling against her back. “Because like it or not, temporary or not, we’re family. And it’s about time someone showed you that family is supposed to take care of you.”

Rose sucks in a breath that pushes her closer to me, and I hold her tighter. After a moment, she lifts her hand and lays it atop mine, threading our fingers together.

And my heart does something… unexpected. It calms.

I didn’t realize how panicked I was, how worried about Rose I was, until she showed a sign of life again.

Oh shit .

I care about her. And not in a “she’s my friend’s sister, so of course I’m concerned about her well-being,” kind of way. Not even in a “she’s my roommate and temporary wife and I’m legally invested in her health and safety,” kind of way .

I care about her in an “I want to keep her” kind of way. And that’s a massive fucking problem.

This is bad. This is so, so bad. So much for being calm. How the hell did I get myself into this mess?

My heart beats so fast I’m surprised I can’t hear it ricocheting against my ribcage like it might jump straight out of my chest.

Because, for once, my three-month deadline isn’t optional.

It’s a mutual agreement, and even if my heart is acting up, there’s not a chance in the world that Rose will want anything to do with me when our three months are over.

Which means I have a month to get my act together and get over this stupid little crush.

That’s all this is—a crush. It’s natural, considering how much time we’re spending together and the sheer number of orgasms we’ve been trading. I’m only human.

But for now… now she strokes her thumb over my ring and leans her head back, like she wants to get as close to me as possible. And I soak it all in.