Page 47 of The Lies Of Omission (Without Limits #3)

I sank into the armchair, pulling the blanket tighter, trying to hold myself together. “Want to talk about it?”

There was a brittle inhale, like she’d been waiting for someone to ask.

“Your dad and mine treated me like I was something that got dragged in on the bottom of their shoe. Like I didn’t belong in that room.

My father barely even looked at me. And when he did…

” Her voice cracked, then sharpened. “It was like I was some broken thing he’d given up on fixing a long time ago. ”

My jaw tightened. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” she said, but her voice was thinner now.

“Doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell. Worse than I thought it would.

And my mom? Just sat there. Silent. She looked through me like I wasn’t even worth the fight.

” Her words hit like glass—shards of something once whole.

“Guess she finally picked a side. And it wasn’t mine. ”

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t have to. We both knew this was always the likeliest outcome—for both of us. But the silence wasn’t empty between us. It was permission. A place where the things she couldn’t say out loud still belonged.

“But your mom…” her voice softened unexpectedly, like she was still trying to believe it. “She stood up for me. Said what no one else would. It’s been a long time since someone made me feel like I mattered.”

A sharp ache pulled through my chest. “She sees you. Like I do. Maybe because she knows what it’s like to be the one no one fights for.”

There was a beat of silence—quiet, but so loud.

“People change,” she said finally. “Or maybe we just stop hoping they will. Either way, I’m done letting them define me. From now on, I’m the one making the decisions in my life and if that means I have to scrub toilets, then so be it.”

I let a ghost of a smile pull at my mouth. “You’re stronger than you look.”

She let out a tired laugh. “Working on it.” Another pause—lighter this time. Then, the teasing started: “So... how’s it going with Sinclair?”

I blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“You know,” she said with a smirk I could practically hear. “Sinclair. Your... whatever-he-is. You’re different when you talk about him. Less... armored.”

I groaned and dropped my head back. “Oh my God, can we not?—”

She cut in, giddy now. “And wait—Sinclair? As in Sinclair Soul?”

I groaned again. “Unfortunately.”

“I knew he looked familiar,” she whispered. “He’s got that kind of sadness people don’t forget.”

I let out a dry laugh, sharp and bitter. “Yeah. He’s just… been through too much. Things I can’t even talk about. The kind of hurt that gets into your bones and never leaves.”

Rosalie went quiet. “That must be... a lot. The legacy. The weight. Being known before you even know who you are.” She sighed. “But he’s not alone anymore, right?”

I swallowed hard, throat tightening. “Right.”

She caught it. “You don’t sound so sure.” I ran a hand through my hair, fingers trembling. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from anyone today,” she added gently. “But I’m glad you called. You know I’m here for you, Theo. Like you are for me.”

Her words hit too hard. “I’m trying,” I rasped.

“But I think I fucked it up. He left a few hours ago, and I haven’t heard from him since.

He said he needed space. And the worst part?

” My voice dropped to a whisper. “I don’t blame him.

I said I wanted him, then turned around and made him question everything I meant.

I keep hurting him and expecting him to stay. I just hope this time he believes me.”

“Maybe he just needed space,” she said gently. “Maybe he’s figuring out how to stay without losing himself. From what you said the day you walked into my apartment, it’s going to take time for him to be able to trust your words.”

“Yeah,” I said, my voice low. “He’s... doing the smart thing. Protecting himself. And here I am, unraveling because I don’t know if he’s ever coming back. I know I don’t deserve him. And if he picks himself over me—I’ll understand. I just... I don’t know who I am without him anymore.”

“That’s not love, Theo,” Rosalie said softly. “That’s fear, and it’ll eat you alive.” Silence stretched between us, heavy and kind. “How old is he again?” she asked, her voice tentative.

“Twenty-three,” I mumbled.

“Oof. Twelve years between you,” she whistled. “I’m not judging. But that’s a gap. That’s life lived and trauma and expectations that don’t always line up.”

“Yeah,” I said. “He’s been through so much. And still... he’s trying to build something with me. That takes courage I don’t think I’d have.”

“You do ,” she said firmly. “You just sometimes forget. He’s trying to grow, and you need to let yourself grow too. Don’t hold your breath waiting for him to fix you. You have to meet him halfway.”

“I don’t even know what halfway looks like.”

She let out a slow breath. “Then start by being honest. With yourself. With him. Use kid gloves with each other for a while—until you’re both steady enough to hold the weight.”

I closed my eyes. “I don’t want to lose him.”

“Then show up for him,” she said simply. “And for yourself.” Silence again. The kind that said more than any apology or promise. “I’m here for you,” she added softly. “Call me. I don’t care if I’m falling apart, or furious, or half-asleep. You call. Got it?”

“I will,” I whispered. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me. But next time?” A grin in her voice. “Spill some filthy secrets. You know. For emotional balance. And because, let’s be honest, the thought of you and him? Hot. ”

I laughed, the sound catching in my chest like relief. “Over my dead body.”

“Fine. Then I’ll just befriend his best friend and get the dirt from her.”

“Rosalie—”

“Okay, okay,” she laughed. “I’m going. Take care of yourself, Theo.”

“You too.” I ended the call before she could say anything else completely inappropriate. But my heart felt steadier. Fuller. Not whole—but held. It was good to know someone still believed in me. Even when I didn’t.