Cuts Like An Angel (11 page)

Chapter Fifteen

Josh

Josh could see Rosie in the mirror on his bike, her hands poised on the wheel, eyes clearly glued to him. Yeah he’d fucked this one up, again. No, not him, William. And her. Not Rosie—fucking
Maria
.  He’d managed to not say her name in his mind—he was that pissed at her. He wanted to pull his bike over, go to Rosie and explain everything … that he was an idiot. Yes, Josh was an idiot for letting William be an idiot.

Gripping the throttle tighter, he pushed on, turning in totally the wrong direction of where he needed to go. Maria could call and fucking cry for all he cared. It was always when she needed something. Always when her hour of need was up. She wasn’t ruining this for him. It was over, she had to realise that.

He pushed on down the road, and it was almost a relief when Rosie went straight on the other road. The distant sound of her car backfiring made him pause and listen. Maybe he needed to go that way and see if she needed any help. It backfired again, the mechanical gunshot in the silence of the streets, farther away, though. She was fine. 

He carried on until he reached the main road. He knew these places like the back of his hand—always his escape route when she had pushed him too far again. He didn’t go like he had promised. Would serve her right for scaring Rosie off like that and making him lie. He hated liars; hated them so much. He’d had enough of it with his mother over his lifetime that he had always promised to be honest no matter the cost. But seeing Rosie there at his back door, the hurt on her face. She had heard … he just couldn’t tell her the truth. Maybe she would never know. It could be one of those unspoken secrets they both knew about, but neither of them raised it. Yeah. He could forget Maria and happily never speak of her again.

Josh rode his bike all the way to the bridge—
the
bridge. It was so different in the day, busy, alive. Pulling onto the pavement right at the highest point, he unsaddled and strode over to the wall.  William, who had stood here on a night weeks ago was gone. He peered down at the water—the water William had thrown himself into. It was such a different lifetime.

Turning, he leaned himself against the wall, the sun beating down on his face. So much had changed now. He would call Maria back tomorrow and tell her it was over. She needed to understand that. She needed to be out of his life. She couldn’t call making her demands on him—He’d see her when he wanted to and on his terms. She could like that or she could take a jump. What if one day Rosie was the one to answer the phone?

No.

He’d have to fix that.

The forms Rosie had given him; he’d stuffed into his pocket in haste to get out of there before he said anything worse. It seemed that no matter what he said or how he said it, he dug this gigantic fucking hole with Rosie. He’d not make any more mistakes with her.

He stared at the crumpled sheets in his hand.
Never.
That was what she had said. It was a slip of the tongue and her nervousness, he knew that, but … didn’t they say that these slips meant peoples true intentions? Like if you say someone else’s name instead of who you meant, it is who you should be with?

Maybe, but then it wasn’t her fault. It was Maria’s. If she hadn’t called ...

His hand trembled as he clenched the papers, fighting with himself not to crush them in his hand. He couldn’t get the image of Rosie from his mind. She had seemed pretty mad about the call, even though she had done her best to hide it. Leaning against the wall of the bridge, Josh held the crumpled papers to him and closed his eyes. What had Carly taught him? In through the nose, out through the mouth? Focusing his mind on the pressure of the ground under his feet and the hardness of the stone bridge wall at the small of his back, he attempted to centre himself and calm his thoughts. They were just like the ones that had caused William to jump from this very place—thoughts of
her
.

Josh turned to stare at the water running beneath the bridge. It was calm today, the sun reflecting up from its surface. Little glittering ripples fluttered over the vast murky river. That’s what Rosie was. With all her madness and jealousy. He smiled at the memory of her face, the way she flushed, gasping, stammering on her words.  She was the little glittering sunshine in his murky water.

He pulled a pen from his pocket and flattened the forms out on the top of the wall. He’d fill this in, but he wouldn’t call her. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he couldn’t. Thanks to William. There was no way he’d risk her recognizing his voice as William on the phone.  He’d just let her calm down and he would calm down. He needed to get the house finished, maybe change his number and then Maria couldn’t bother him again—he was done with her. Didn’t she learn her lesson the last time?

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He jammed his hands in without looking. It would just be more tears, more
come and be with me William because I can’t be alone
. Maria and all her wailing and complaining. He pushed the top button to ignore the call and went back to the forms.

He filled out his address and the phone buzzed again. He pulled it out, clicked answer and then hung up.
Could she not get the bloody message?
One more call, and he would tell her where to go.
He wasn’t going to look. He wasn’t going to give in. She’d ruined enough for him. He wrote fast, filling everything in, name … he paused over that part, wanting to write Josh, but would they do checks? Would they search for Josh and not find him and then he couldn’t have the job? Rosie would learn then that Josh wasn’t registered.

He tapped the pen on the paper.
Whatever happens, happens,
he thought to himself. That was what Carly said right? We can’t control things. We can’t worry about what if. He scribbled down Josh Carter before he had a moment to change his mind. If he got turned down because of it, then he’d decide what to do.

His phone buzzed again, a text message this time. Annoyed, he yanked his phone out, ready to fire off his excuses when he saw Rosie’s number. His heart leapt a moment when he saw her name and the message. 
I’m really sorry
.

Really sorry what? You can’t have the job? Get lost I never want to see you again?

He pushed his worrying heart to one side, swallowing hard. He clicked open to read the rest of the message.

I’m really sorry about earlier. I hope everything is okay with your friend. Give me a call when you’re done with the forms.

His heart beat so fast in his chest that he had to take a breath just to steady it. This was what Maria did to him. She made him worry about shit that didn’t matter. She came in and took from him, spoilt all those moments. She had spoilt today.

I’m doing them now.
He went to reply and then deleted it.

Maybe she’d want to meet later … or maybe she wouldn’t.

Don’t worry about it.
He deleted that too. Maybe she’d take that as she’d done something wrong.

Okay.
He texted back in the end.

The forms would be done soon and then he would drop them off at the hospital. He glanced at his watch. It wasn’t too late. It would be hours before Rosie was there, right? He didn’t want to bump into her just now. He needed time to sort himself out. Make it that Maria couldn’t bother him. Make it that his house was done.

He filled the forms in, stuffed them in his pocket and mounted his bike again, his head clearer. Maria wasn’t going to take anything else from him. 

At the hospital, he parked his bike in the disabled space out front. It didn’t matter that he didn’t have a badge. He was nipping in and out. The receptionist glared at him as he sauntered in, helmet in hand. Maybe she recognised him. He hoped not. He let his smile widen as he got closer, disguising the sad and pathetic William she might have remembered.

“I need to drop this in for the helpline,” he said, explaining himself. “Rosie asked me to get it back to her.” Well she’d asked to meet, but that was beside the point. This way she could get it, there was no time wasted and no options for anything that might happen to come along and fuck things right up.

“Rosie Babineaux?” she asked, her face relaxing a little with the mention of a name. Babineaux? Rosie Babineaux. Different and fitting. Maybe this girl was a friend of Rosie’s, although, she didn’t seem like Rosie’s type. Rosie was shy, sweet. This woman, her clothes were loud, her hair bright yellow. She looked like someone who went home, drank wine and demanded her husband pay her attention. “I can give them to her if you want to pass them to me.”

Nodding, he pulled the forms out. “I er…” Idiot. He didn’t have an envelope. “I have nothing to put them in.”

“It’s okay,” she said, holding out a perfectly manicured hand as she smiled at him. “I’ll see Rosie gets this.”

He wanted to tell her no so that he could seal the forms up and just hand over an envelope. The receptionist smiled a perfect red smile at him. “Thank you,” he said giving in and handing them to her.

Chapter Sixteen

Rosie

Skipping work and skipping out on saving lives didn’t improve Rosie’s self-disgust. She should’ve known she wasn’t skipping out on any problem but rather adding to it. Another shovel of shit on the grave dug.
Pat pat on the back.

The idea of faking one ounce of joy or positive thinking for anybody would mean she’d have to move that mountain of
crap
suffocating her. Lifting that would require her to think about the Josh and Maria catastrophe and do acrobat after acrobat of
lying
because lying is exactly what it was. It was bullshit tricks. Doing it for the world, for the sake of drawing positive energy was one thing, but for herself? No. She couldn’t use the bullshit tricks on herself, not tonight. She couldn’t handle another ounce of it.

That left her sitting on the floor between the ratty recliner and the wobbly pressboard end table in the dark.  If she reached up and turned the lamp on and off, on and off, she’d be that obsessed woman in that movie, the bunny boiler. The idiot who couldn’t go on because some married asshole had fucked her and realized she was a mistake. Well, it felt just as shitty.

Just when she thought it couldn’t get worse, it occurred to her. What if he was
married?

Why did she have to always torment herself with all the worst scenarios? Oh right. Because she’d already done the whole
think
positive
bit where men were concerned. Then she discovered the worst was true. By then, she’d already invested herself. Nobody told her when a person invests certain parts of themselves into another person, they don’t get that back. All those stupid pieces of her heart she’d given were non-refundable. Now she was stuck living with missing pieces of herself.

So really, it was damn
smart
to think of the worst case scenarios. 

A light buzzing sound startled her out of her abysmal psychological moping. The noise didn’t register at first and then she gasped at realizing what it was.

Her phone.

It rang so rarely; she’d forgotten the sound it made. Mostly she texted the few people she stayed in contact with. Her heart pounded as she ran to the wall where her purse hung and dug her phone out. She stared at the number, her brows drawing in confusion. Who was it? She answered, sure it was a wrong number.

“Rosie?”

Her lips parted with a light gasp. “W-William?” Joy surged through her veins as she smiled and paced in small circles.

“You weren’t at work tonight,” he said.

God, his voice. So soothing. “I … I’m sorry, I couldn’t go.” She bit her lip and closed her eyes. Of all people to not be there for, he was the last one she’d ever want to let down.

“What’s wrong, Rosie?”

The tender concern in his voice was like a surgeon’s blade. It sliced her wide open and she gasped when she felt all the shit on the inside surging forth to spill right out of her.

“Rosie, talk to me,” he said, finishing her off.

She stood immobilized in her home, straining to breathe and think around the mess he’d just made with only a couple of words. No, it wasn’t just the words, it was the
concern
in them. The
genuine caring.
He cared, and wow, if that didn’t just unhinge her psyche.

“Take your time,” he whispered.

She gushed a sob, like an idiot. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I’m usually not like this.”

“What happened? Please tell me.”

What happened. What happened. Yes, what happened Rosie? “It’s really so stupid,” she squeaked in an effort not to sob again.

“It’s not stupid, it’s never stupid, don’t say that.”

She nodded that it was stupid. “You see, I’m … I’m my worst enemy.”

“Rosie?”

“Yes?”

“You’re talking to the guru of self-harming. My body is like a pin cushion only; I don’t use pins.”

Rosie’s laugh gushed out. “I’m so sorry, that’s not funny.”

“I missed your laugh Rosie,” he said softly.

Her heart hammered in her chest as she fought to regain her composure. “I shouldn’t laugh at that,” was all she could think to say.

“You know,” he said, sounding curious. “The cuts on my body never gave me any lasting relief, but … your laughter … I can’t explain it Rosie. When I hear it, it’s like every slice counted for something.”

“Wow,” she said, her voice tiny and strained. “You should come work down at the center,” she barely managed past the lump in her throat. “You’re good.” He gave a low chuckle that sounded …
happy.
“How have you been?” she hurried, really needing to not think about everything he made her feel. “I’ve been taking one day at a time,” he said.

“Good,” she smiled and nodded, hurrying to the kitchen to put on the kettle. “That’s so good to hear, William.”

“What have you been up to?” he asked.

She let out a small laugh, turning on the water. “Well …” God she wanted to tell him about what happened. “It’s just same old stuff, really.”

“Tell me,” he said.

The soft compelling in his voice brought the words right there. She debated which to say and how to say them as she loaded the grinds in a fresh filter. “I went on a
date.
” Yes, blurt it right out, Rosie, stop dancing.

“A date,” he said, sounding … what was that sound she heard. Curious? Joy? Joy would be good, she’d kind of worried he was a stalker and obsessing. If he was happy for her, that would mean good things. “I want to hear all about it, Rosie,” he said.

That was definitely joy. She didn’t understand her feelings though. She should be happy he was happy about that and sure she actually was. “Oh, it was just the usual disaster. Me overthinking everything.”

“Oh, Rosie, you’re talking to the guru of overthinking.”

She let her laugh out, needing a release valve for all the turmoil inside her. “Stop bragging,” she joked. Before she could regret it, his laughter filled her ear and made her really smile. “Wow. I think your laughter just took first place.”

“Rosie,” he said, finally. “You have no idea how happy you make me. But don’t worry, I promise not to be your next restraining order.”

She giggled at the humor in his tone, happy he liked joking like this. Humor was her strong suit, her life raft in the storm. “Well, you seem to make the perfect friend, being the guru of so many kinds of catastrophes. We could teach one another.”

More laughter that had her grinning. “We could maybe write a book.”

She busted out in cackles. “Yes. A how-to manual for offing yourself.”

In the middle of laughter, he said, “Or The Guru’s Guide to Not Giving a Damn.”

“Thank you,” Rosie finally said after a few seconds. “For calling. Was perfect timing, I was on a ledge.”

“It’s nice to pay back the favor,” he said, his tone going back to that soothing tenor. She was sure she could fall asleep to the sound. “Tell me what happened on your date, sweet Rosie. I bet you misread everything.”