Page 43 of Dearly Unbeloved (Spicy in Seattle #3)

SIERRA

M y heart feels battered and bruised as I trudge up the stairs to our apartment—Rose’s apartment. I could’ve taken the elevator, but it’s the end of the workday and the chances of not running into one of our neighbors are slim to none.

Seeing Rose again was like a punch to the gut. I thought I missed her before, thought I craved her before, but now? I feel it all over me, from the tips of my toes to my stupid fucking brain that thought leaving was the best thing to do.

I should’ve been there to make her coffee this morning. I should’ve kissed her goodbye before work and told her I loved her, and I should’ve been in that hospital room the second I could. Time after time, I’ve failed her.

I know I have no right to be, but I’m so fucking proud of her for standing up to her parents. If she hates me forever because of how I treated her, it will have been worth it for that—that, and the fact she’s going to start therapy.

For the most part, the apartment hasn’t changed in the two weeks I’ve been gone, but there’s a vase of dead purple roses on the kitchen island that stops me in my tracks.

The leaves are crispy and curled, and there’s a puddle of petals around the vase.

I reach out to brush a leaf with my pinky, and it disintegrates. I have no idea what to make of them.

Near the bunny enclosure, a blowup mattress is sitting with a neat pile of blankets and pillows on top. Has she been sleeping out here?

When I let the bunnies out, they’re more interested in me than food. “I’m sorry I left,” I murmur, holding Dibbles to my chest while Thorne snuggles on my lap. “I’ve missed you—and your mama.”

I can’t tell Rose, so I tell them: how I know I fucked up, how I’ve hated myself every day since, how I don’t know how to fix things.

I tell them how scared I was, not knowing if Rose was okay, how much she loves them, how she’ll be home to them soon.

I think I’m trying to reassure myself more than them, and it works.

When they start sniffing around my hands and pockets, I feed them, leaving them to eat while I go in search of the book Rose is currently reading.

I swung by the store and picked up a Kindle on my way here, but I need to know what to download.

For as long as I’ve known her, she’s sworn up and down she’d never switch to an eReader, but she’s going to have a long recovery ahead of her, and being able to hold the Kindle in one hand, once she can read again, is going to make a difference.

I find her book on the bottom shelf of the coffee table, and head into the kitchen to grab scissors to open the Kindle.

Rose is the second most organized person I know, besides Maggie, but scissors are the one thing that eludes her.

We were never able to find them when we needed them.

I pull open all the kitchen drawers and pause when I open the junk drawer and spot the brown folder sitting on top.

Our divorce papers. She hasn’t filed them.

Abandoning my search for the scissors, I pull the folder out and open it with shaking hands, flicking to the last page.

Petitioner: Sierra Kimiko Hayashi

Respondent: _________________

She never signed them.

I clutch the papers to my chest and grab my car keys, heading for the door before I can second-guess myself.

It’s been three and a half years since Cal hired me, and I still find the office creepy when no one else is around. I bypass the first-floor desks and head straight to the shredder at the back of the open-plan office.

Nothing happens when I press the power button once, twice, three times.

“Oh, come on.” Sure, I could just go up to Cal’s office and use the shredder there, or go to one of the two dozen other shredders in the building, but why would I do that when I could just kick this one and hope for the best? “Shit,” I groan, holding my foot. Why the fuck is that so hard?

“What did that shredder ever do to you?”

I scream and spin around, the folder and all its papers flying out of my hand as I try to hold my heart in my chest. Jazz and Maggie are standing, staring at me with matching bemused expressions.

“Did you teleport in here? How the hell were you so quiet?”

“We really weren’t that quiet,” Maggie says with a shrug, walking up beside the shredder and crouching. She holds up the power cord. “Did you try plugging it in?”

“I did not,” I grumble. “Thanks.”

I kneel down and gather up the papers, which Jazz promptly plucks out of my hand.

“What are you shredding? Oh shit, these are divorce papers.”

I nod, clearing my throat. “She never signed them. She’s had them for two weeks and didn’t sign them.

And she was wearing her ring during the explosion.

I found it with her stuff. That means something, right?

That has to mean something.” I couldn’t believe it when I felt my fingers close around the cool metal of her ring.

After I left like a complete asshole, I assumed she’d take it off the second she could.

“Sierra,” Jazz says, sounding a little exasperated. “Yes, it means something. It’s meant something for months. You’re the only one who’s convinced she doesn’t want you.” She passes me the papers. “Shred them.”

I clutch them with trembling fingers. “But what if she changes her mind?”

“Then she changes her mind, and it hurts like hell,” Maggie says, squeezing my shoulder. “But it already hurts like hell, right? So what have you got to lose?”

Well, when you put it like that .

I step forward and feed the papers into the shredder, one at a time.

Jazz and Maggie stand behind me, not touching me, but I feel their support, anyway.

I’ve gotten so used to not letting people in and figuring shit out alone that I don’t think I realized how much easier it is when you share the burden.

I think back to Rose’s fortune: p ain loses its potency when we share it with others . At the time, it seemed like a message tailored just to her, but everything I’ve been encouraging her to do is something I could stand to take on board myself.

Open up. Let people in. Get help.

Medication only goes so far, and it’s hypocritical of me to ask her to work on her mental health when I’m still stuck at sixteen, abandoned by my friends.

She’s not the only one who needs to speak to her doctor, and she’s not the only one who needs to try therapy.

I’m old enough to recognize that I still have a lot of growing up to do, and that starts with no longer avoiding dealing with the things that have left scars on me over the years.

I place the last page in the shredder and step back to watch my signature turn into thin ribbons of paper. Jazz and Maggie wrap their arms around me, and the first tear spills over. Within seconds, I’m sobbing in their arms.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” I say, my voice thick with tears. “I wasn’t supposed to fall for her.”

Jazz chuckles, but it’s watery, and I look up to see her wiping her eyes. “Oh boy, do we know all about that.”

“It’s worth the risk. We promise,” Maggie says. “We’re not saying it’s going to be easy, but it’s going to be easier. Everything’s easier when you’re with the person you’re meant to be with. And you have us, too. Both of you do.”

I miss being a “both” with Rose more than I can put into words. “I have to fix this.”

“Yeah, you do,” Jazz confirms. “Come on, let’s get you home so you can make a plan to win my sister back.”