Page 34 of The Rose and the Hound (Ashes and Roses #2)

Rose left the tattoo studio buoyant and smiling.

She had the stride of a confident, happy woman who was on the path to true redemption and healing.

Her demeanor made my heart sing but also gutted me with a sense of hopelessness.

She didn’t need me, not that I wanted to cut her down or have her reliant on me.

I wanted her to crave my help the way I craved giving it.

When she was my client, she needed me professionally to help her find her father.

Now, she didn’t need me in any capacity, but I wasn’t done helping her.

Not by a long shot. Nor was I done shadowing her.

She was wearing figure-hugging jeans with white high-top Converse.

Her red top fitted snugly, reminding me of what I could have had but threw away in jealousy and suspicion.

She was truly a beautiful woman, and now .

.. well, now she was positively radiant.

I wondered what she had tattooed on her beautiful body, and where.

Where had the random tattoo artist touched her?

I assumed the artist was Theodore Sallinder.

I researched him after her first visit to the studio.

He was a decent-looking man and according to his reviews, he was charming and “so, so sweet.” A surge of jealousy pulsed through me.

Poor Rose had the criminal record, but here I sat, potentially a much more intense stalker than Rose would ever be.

And I felt no guilt. The guilt ate at Rose constantly, while I saw following Rose as my calling.

There was no right or wrong in it. It was like an objective fact.

I was meant to be with this woman. I felt it the moment I met her but had fumbled the ball so badly that it was now unlikely she’d even look in my direction without wincing.

My phone vibrated in my hand, and I forced myself to tear my eyes from Rose to read the message.

Brett: You coming to work anytime soon? Barbara Harrod is back. Thinks her husband might be cheating again. She found polaroids of him with another woman but thinks they might be AI.

I sighed. AI polaroids? Barbara would never do anything about her cheating husband.

Even acknowledging the various forms of proof of his infidelity was an exercise in denial and mental gymnastics for her.

As much as income is always welcome, following the ever-straying Mr. Harrod felt like trying to catch rain using a sieve.

Me: On surveillance. Back soon.

Brett: Real surveillance or are you stalking Rose?

Me: Both can be true.

I had to be careful with what I shared with Brett.

He was a sharp man. His natural curiosity and determination mixed with his professional skills and instinct made him a liability to my .

.. adventures with Rose. He knew I’d fallen for her, and he knew I’d let her down.

He also knew, without doubt, that I wouldn’t walk away.

Given he knew my past and my predilections, he was concerned that I’d let the lion out of the cage in an irreversible way.

Maybe I would. But I’d never hurt Rose. I’d just be her protector. Her minder in the dark.

Stalking wasn’t for the lighthearted. I sat in my car, feeling broken, as Rose nervously chatted to a man at the bus stop.

Six foot, dark complexion, and an athletic build.

Completely her type. I watched on, knowing how he felt as he drank in her beautiful face and sweet nature.

Walk away, man. She’s taken. I snapped his photo.

If he was going to be a threat, I’d have to know everything, right down to the password he thought was clever and which ex he still cyberstalks.

I wouldn’t let anyone get close to Rose if there was the slightest possibility they were wrong for her. And they were all wrong for her.

The bus arrived, swallowing them both within its doors.

Agitated, I followed the bus, frustrated that I couldn’t see their interactions on board.

Was he still talking to her? Was she flattered?

Would she be blinking those amazing eyes and fluttering those long dark lashes?

Who was he to receive that treatment? My heart was racing.

I was unraveling and I knew it. Half of my pain was knowing that she and I were on track to becoming something incredible before I ruined it.

The other half was feeling like an actual part of me was being ripped away.

The bus stopped and Rose exited. This wasn’t her stop.

Where was she going? I stopped the car and watched her retreating figure walk purposefully up the street.

She ducked into an office door. I slowly pulled up outside the building.

It was an adult education center. What are you chasing, my Zahra?

Whatever it was, I’d be her fiercest supporter.

If she wanted to write, I’d devour every word.

If she chose hospitality, I’d eat in her restaurant morning, noon, and night.

No dream was too small or too grand. And if money stood in her way, then I’d move heaven and earth to make sure she never had to worry about the cost.

I sat in the car, waiting. Although she’d told me not to contact her, I noticed she had unblocked me. Well, I think she’d unblocked me. I was again seeing the “received” notification.

Me: My Zahra, how are you today? Please can we talk?

I knew she wouldn’t answer. Not only was she busy, she was cutting me out and building a new life, but I wanted her to know I was still there.

Still waiting. About 15 minutes later, she left the building, a thin pile of paper in her hand.

I watched her at the bus stop as another man sat beside her on the bench.

This man was older. Potentially in his 40s, with thinning hair.

He didn’t make a move to talk or even look at her, but I watched him closely until Rose boarded the next bus.

He continued to sit, likely waiting for the next one. Well done, Baldy. Good move.

When she left, I entered the building. The receptionist, a young man in his 20s, looked up briefly. He seemed bored and inconvenienced by my presence.

“Hi, my girlfriend Rose was just in here. We went for a coffee, but she dropped her paperwork in a huge puddle. Can I please grab another copy?”

The bored man reached into a drawer and pulled out a stapled form. Without a word, he handed the paper to me and picked up his phone to flick through Insta. Bored employees with no interest in their jobs were the easiest people to extract information from. They just didn’t care.

“Thanks,” I said cheerfully. I scanned the form.

Library Services Certificate I: Enrolment form

Interesting. I knew my Rose liked to read, but it seemed she now wanted to make it into a career.

“Hey ... Pete,” I asked, reading his name plate. “I’d like to pay for Rose as a surprise. She’d never accept it, but she really deserves this, so I was wondering if you’d tell her it was covered by the state or a donor or something.” I pulled out my credit card.

“She hasn’t even returned the form yet. She just wanted information,” he said, not pulling his eyes from the news bloopers reel.

“That’s ok. If she doesn’t end up enrolling, it’ll just be a donation to the center.”

He finally snapped his attention to me, which I didn’t like. It was better that I was simply an annoying faceless customer that he couldn’t be bothered with. “Whatever, man. It’s $1,400.”

He handed over the card reader, and I tapped quickly. I had to get out of here. There were cameras, not that Rose would have the pull or even the knowledge to ask for the footage if she became suspicious. Damn it, I was becoming careless in my desperation.

“Want a receipt?” Phew. He was back to his reels. “No, all good. Just make sure you make a note on her file that it’s a funded scholarship.”

He nodded. “I made her a file with just her name on it when she came in. If she comes back, we’ll use the credit on whatever she chooses.”

Good enough for me. I left the building feeling a bit lighter. If my Zahra didn’t want me in her life, I’d remain on the sidelines, silently cheering her on from the shadows, where I belonged.