Page 30 of The Rose and the Hound (Ashes and Roses #2)

My Zahra: No. Goodbye Mr. Edison. For your closure, I will ask Paul to contact you with the results.

No. My Zahra, no. I quickly began to respond to her last message.

Me: Please Zahra, I am sorry. We can talk about this.

Message undeliverable. She’d cut me out. I deserved it for believing the worst of her, but I never thought she was a bad person. I thought she’d become ill again, and my solution was to leave her to sort it out on her own, which was just as bad as believing she was crazy.

There was no way I was going to walk away.

I’d been able to walk away from Evangeline, but I knew in my heart that I could never leave my Rose so easily.

We were perfect for each other. Not only did we accept each other’s stalking tendencies, we loved that about each other.

We fit together perfectly. She hadn’t even asked me about my past, when clearly, I had similar behaviors to hers.

She had just accepted me, knowing instinctively that I was safe, yet I hadn’t extended the same courtesy to her.

I leaned against my car door. If she had to be somewhere, I would take her.

Her car had been taken by authorities when she was taken into custody, and to my knowledge, it hadn’t been returned yet.

As her legal guardian, her mother likely had just sold it for quick cash as soon as she could.

My poor Zahra had no one to lean on, no one to care for her.

Well, she had me, but she didn’t want me now that I had deserted her when she needed me the most.

A flash of red caught my eye, breaking me from my self-flagellating thoughts.

My Zahra! She was beautiful, though she looked fragile and withdrawn.

She always had a shy, reserved way about her, but now she was positively childlike.

She walked with her head bowed, one arm across her stomach and the other arm hooked around the opposite elbow, as though she was protecting herself from dangers unknown.

Or perhaps, dangers known given she knew I was outside her building.

“Rose,” I called out softly when she moved close enough to me to hear.

She looked up and frowned. It wasn’t an angry frown, more of a heartbroken wince. She ducked her head again and walked even faster. Easily matching her quick stride, I walked beside her.

“Let me take you where you need to go. I’m really sorry. I should have believed you or at least just asked you what was going on. Please Rose, let me help you. I’ll make this up to you and—”

She put her hand up. “No, please just leave.” She stopped moving. I glanced up and realized we’d reached a bus stop.

“You don’t need the bus, Rose. Let me take you where you need to go. Are you going to the store?”

She shook her head, refusing to meet my eye. Instead, she leaned her upper body out toward the road, presumably searching for the bus.

Look at me, Zahra. See the desperation in my eyes!

I grabbed her upper arm gently, giving it a slight squeeze.

Rose and I hadn’t really touched much at all.

With her practiced self-restraint and reluctance to let anyone near her, I’d held back, respecting her efforts and her inner conflict.

But now that she was slipping away, I couldn’t afford that same patience.

“Please, Rose,” I begged. “Please just let me drive you and we can talk on the way.”

Finally, she turned to look at me. Her eyes were full of unshed tears, and she spoke in a shaky, soft voice.

“Just leave me, Mr. Edison. Please. I need to go to my doctor, and I don’t have enough capacity left for you. I tried so hard ... I tried to ... I shouldn’t have let you in. I’m not even blaming you, but I don’t want to see you anymore. I can’t. I just need to be on my own, to start again.”

“You mean to put up your defenses again? But this time, you’ll never let them down. That’s my fault. I know that Zahra, and I’ll be forever sorry that I hurt you like this. You can count on me now. I promise that—”

“Promise what? That you’ll believe me?” She snapped.

She was angry. She just didn’t know it. “I trusted you. I pulled away and didn’t want to believe you were interested, but you gave me every signal that you were.

So I let myself believe. I followed your lead, and it felt so good to have someone.

Apart from my grandmother, I never had anyone, Ace.

I didn’t even know that I’d never had anyone just for me because you can’t miss what you never had.

And now I’ll miss that feeling. It wasn’t real, but for a while, to me, it was so real.

I’m not angry that you didn’t believe me.

I’m sick. I’ve always been stupid and sick, not worthy of anything real.

I don’t blame you for finally seeing that, but I do blame you for letting me feel something.

For showing me how it felt to be part of something only to have it ripped away.

I wish I’d never come to you for help. I wish you’d never left me that flower, and that I’d never sent you that hound.

So just leave me to pick up my own pieces. It’s what I do best!”

While she had begun with a soft and shaky voice, her tone was now angry and strong, despite the tears that were now flowing freely down her cheeks.

I hated seeing what I’d done. She wasn’t sick or stupid.

She was beautiful and had she had even a minimally caring mother, she’d never have become unwell.

The real Rose was beautiful and caring. The rejected and love-starved Rose she became was shaped by a loveless, abusive mother and a life full of loneliness and self-doubt.

“You don’t have to do that, Rose. I’m wrong.

It was me, not you. You don’t need to doubt yourself.

” She scoffed and turned away from me, again searching the road for the bus.

I hoped the bus had blown all of its tires and would be indefinitely delayed.

If I let her out of my sight, I feared I’d never see her again.

Not knowing what else to do, I grabbed her firmly by the shoulders and pulled her to face me.

I pulled her even closer, locking her against my body with my arms. I’d been so careful around her physically, but maybe she could feel my regret and love through my physical actions.

No more “anonymous” notes or verbal espionage and mind games.

Just heartfelt remorse and the pain of losing someone through your own stupidity.

She didn’t push me away, but she also didn’t return the hug.

It was still a win in my eyes. We stood at the bus stop, me clenched tightly around her and her, stiff and ridiculously upright.

To those passing on the street, we likely looked highly suspicious.

Perhaps I looked like an incredibly stupid man who had messed up with his wife and was desperate for forgiveness.

If that was the case, their perception would be one hundred percent correct.