Page 208 of Terms of Exposure
Rosie held my gaze. Her eyes were wet, but she didn't look away.
"Because I recognize something in you, sweetheart." She said it gently. "The way you hold yourself. The way you watch the door. The way you flinch when your phone buzzes."
She paused. Then—"The bruise on your cheek that day at the hospital."
Ifroze.
"I could be wrong," Rosie added quietly. "And if I am, I'm sorry for overstepping. But if I'm not..."
She let the sentence hang there, unfinished.
I should have denied it. Should have laughed it off, made some joke about being clumsy, thanked her for her concern and fled into the night.
That's what I always did.
But something about the way she looked at me—without pity, without judgment—made the words die in my throat.
"I left him," I finally said. My voice sounded strange. "Months ago. It's over."
Rosie nodded slowly. "Good. That's good, sweetheart."
"So I'm fine. Really. It's done."
"Is it?"
A question, not an accusation.
It still hit.
The texts.
The constant buzzing.
My heart seizing every time his name lit up my screen.
The block button I couldn't press.
"He still..." I stopped. Swallowed. "He showed up the other day at my apartment."
She nodded. "Their father did the same thing. I tried to outrun him, but he always found us."
My eyes widened. "And then what happened?"
"I went back," she admitted, voice small.
I froze, Lavender like ice in my arms.
"I went back three times, actually," Rosie continued, her voice stripped bare. "The first time, he begged." Her gaze went distant. "And I wasn't strong enough to say no."
"The second time, I didn't have money to live." She brushed at hereyes with the back of her hand. "I told myself I was doing it for them. That I could survive anything if it meant my boys were taken care of."
How many times had I told myself things about Garrett?
That it wasn't that bad.
That he didn't mean it.
That I could fix him if I just loved him enough.
