Page 35 of The Rose and the Hound (Ashes and Roses #2)

I was so excited! Things were finally falling my way.

The course I applied to was covered under some government program, and I was on my way to becoming a children’s librarian.

The day had been a long one. Orders had increased so I’d spent my day running around picking stock and delivering it to the packaging department.

As much as I loved being busy, my sore feet were further motivation to find a job I actually liked.

Work had been fun lately. I found myself joking around with my colleagues, and I had the distinct impression that Jason was flirting with me.

I wasn’t interested. It was too soon after my little whatever-it-was with Ace, and I honestly didn’t feel anything for Jason beyond colleague-appropriate companionship.

I left work with my feet dragging when I heard my email ping.

It was the library! I had another six weeks left on my eight-week course but had reached out early to check their position requirements.

Unable to wait until I got home, I stopped and opened the email.

The day had been productive, I had my self-affirming tattoo, and I felt I was on a solid path to a new career.

A single email ruined that. I scanned the requirements, but my eyes stopped dead at one sentence.

Applicants must meet all legal requirements for working with children/vulnerable persons. Certain criminal convictions may disqualify candidates from employment.

Certain convictions? Well, I guess felony assault and stalking would qualify as “certain convictions.” I was a danger to children. I could almost hear some random HR person’s voice saying it out loud in that restrained tone: stalking ... assault.

My stomach clenched.

I knew it was there. It would always be there: a permanent shadow in my records.

Somehow, stupidly, I had convinced myself—foolishly, desperately—that my therapy and my spotless years since would be enough to outweigh my past. That someone on the hiring committee would see my heart instead of my history.

But no. A box had to be ticked and someone with my history would never qualify for that precious tick.

My dream was dead.

I involuntarily dropped to my knees on the asphalt. How could I move on? I’d be picking office supplies and gifts until I was able to retire. No relationships, apart from Gloria. Constant list-checking and therapy. Where was the benefit in getting better?

I don’t know how long I remained on my knees. Maybe one minute, maybe five. A shadow dropped over me and I looked up to see Ace looming above me.

“Rose?” he asked, a concerned look on his face.

My jaw tightened. He was the last person I wanted to see—the man who had brought me excitement and inspired actual feelings. I’d trusted him, and he’d cast me off like the crazy inconvenience I always believed myself to be.

And yet, here he was.

“Are you okay?” he said carefully, as if testing the air for landmines. “I was here. I was just ... I’m here for you, Rose.” He dropped down into a squat and stared into my eyes.

I was tired. Tired of trying. Tired of working for a life that could never be mine. His sympathetic body language and eyes broke me. He was the only one to ever have comforted me. I began crying, sobbing and heaving with the effort.

Ace leaned over and secured me in his arms, lifting me as he stood. “It’s okay, Rose. It’s okay,” he soothed in a low voice.

“I can’t do it. I’ll never get a job with kids. The library ... My felonies ... Why do I even try?” My voice came out broken and oddly high.

“They said I’m a danger to children,” I sobbed.

“They didn’t use those words, but that’s what they meant.

I wanted to work at the library. I’m studying, but they’ll see my name, my record, and that’s it.

Doesn’t matter how many years I’ve kept my nose clean.

Doesn’t matter how hard I’ve worked to be better.

To be—” My crying intensified and I finally gained the self-awareness to look around me.

I was in the work parking lot. I didn’t want anyone to see me like this.

Ace seemed to gather that and ushered me bodily away toward his car.

He was watching me like someone watching a skittish animal. “Rose...”

His caution ignited my anger. “Don’t you dare pretend to be the one who understands this. You don’t. You’ve never had people look at you and see nothing but your worst day. You only saw my worst day when the first obstacle arose.”

His jaw flexed, but he didn’t argue. He just stayed there, in that maddeningly calm way of his.

I hated this—hated how quickly grief could turn into exhaustion, how a dream could collapse and leave me hollow.

He didn’t deserve to be the one to comfort me, but I didn’t move. He felt warm and safe. The last person I could rely on yet the one who somehow soothed me only with his presence.

“You think I don’t understand?” he said softly.

“Rose, I’ve seen you fight like hell to get here.

I’ve seen you hold yourself together when anyone else would’ve broken.

I know I—” He stopped, swallowing hard. “I know I let you down. I’m sorry.

I wish I could undo that. But you are not what’s written on some record from years ago. You’re more than that.”

The words were dangerous—too kind, too close to the ache I didn’t want to admit was still there for him. He held me tight and close, and I couldn’t help but lean into his warmth.

“You’re allowed to be angry at me,” he murmured. “Hate me if you need to. But don’t let this job define you. We’ll find another way in. I’ll help you.”

I almost laughed at the absurdity—Ace, helping me, after everything. But his voice was so certain it made something deep inside me want to believe him.

“What, you’re gonna call up the library and tell them I’m harmless?” I said, my words muffled against his shirt.

“If that’s what it takes,” he said. “Hell, I’ll stand in front of every parent in this city and tell them you’re the safest person their kids could be around. And I’ll mean it.”

“You can’t fix this,” I whispered.

“Maybe not.” He brushed a tear from my cheek with his thumb. “But I can make sure you don’t have to fight it alone.”

Something twisted in my chest — anger, yes, but also the smallest flicker of relief. I hated that I wanted to lean on him, but in that moment, I couldn’t make myself step away.

The rejection still burned. The dream was still gone. But his arms were solid, and for now, that was enough to keep me from falling apart completely.