Page 48 of Wrong For Me

I’m hoping she’ll open up about what happened on the show and why she’s been in such an uncharacteristically grouchy mood ever since. But even if she’s not ready to talk, I want her to know I’m around.

Vega:Thank you, Rosie.

She immediately responds to the ongoing silliness of the group chat.

Vega:Nevermind. Rose is taking me shopping. I will be taking no further suggestions so you should definitely all shut up now.

“Such a sweet little girl,” River says, tossing his phone away.

Will eyes me. “When are you going to find time to take her shopping? I thought you were all stressed about your work load.”

I shrug. “I’ll figure it out.” I glance at the time on my phone. “Speaking of, I need to get moving or I’m going to be late.”

“You’re working at Haven House tonight?” Will asks.

I nod. I’ve been working part time at the woman’s shelter since my freshman year of college. It might sound like depressing work, but my hours at Haven House are consistently the best part of my week. I love meeting with the women and kids who are staying there, love being able to help them, in some small way, on their journey to find something better for their families. And the rest of the staff are amazing, some of the most inspiring women I’ve ever met. I want to be just like my boss, Ellen Soo, when I grow up.

“Speaking of getting moving…” River starts shoveling food into his mouth at an even faster pace than normal. “Meeting Fox to play basketball,” he mumbles around a mouthful of hamburger. “Gonna be late.”

“You’regonnachoke on your food,” Will points out. But River manages to finish his meal without dying then pops up from the chair to go change.

“I keep waiting for him to move beyond the toddler stage,” Will mutters, shaking his head. “Yet he stays the same.”

“His consistency is endearing?” I offer, and my cousin snorts around his beer bottle.

After a few moments of eating, he eyes me again. “You would tell me if you’re not okay, wouldn’t you?”

I’m startled. “What do you mean? Of course I’m okay.”

But he’s studying me way too closely for my comfort. “I don’t like that look on your face, Rosie.”

“What look?”

“The one that tells me you’re berating yourself. Leo is the asshole. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

I avoid his eyes. “Didn’t I, though? I went home with the guy when I barely knew him.”

“That’s not a crime, Rose. You’re twenty-three. Lots of people have casual hook-ups at our age."

“But I should know better,” I argue. “I really liked him, Will. I thought we had a connection. I thought…” I thought there was something between us, as naive as that might be. I shake my head. “I should know by now that I can’t trust myself about these things.” I finally meet my cousin’s gaze and find a mixture of concern and anger in his eyes. “Look at what happened with Brian.”

His anger eclipses any other emotion at the mention of my ex. If there’s anyone in the world that Will Ransome hates, it’s my last serious boyfriend. The man who pretty much ruined me for relationships. The man who came pretty close to ruining my life.

“That guy was an asshole,” Will bites out through clenched teeth.

“Exactly. He was a terrible person and I should never have trusted him. But I did.” I shake my head. “My instincts are shit, Will. I always trust the wrong people.” A familiar weight takes up residence in my chest. “Sometimes I don’t know why I think I can be a psychologist. How am I supposed to help people when I’m so bad at reading them?”

“That’s ridiculous,” he grits out, sounding even angrier now. “You’re the most empathetic person I know.” He points at the phone next to me on the couch. “Look at those messages from Vega, Rose. Look at all the people who come to you first when they need help or support.”

“My family,” I argue. “It’s different with family, and you know it.”

Neither one of us has ever been great at trusting anyone outside of the Ransome clan. We both learned pretty early on that people can be assholes when it comes to fame and money.

“That doesn’t mean you won’t be great at helping others.”

I want to argue with him. Want to unload this churning worry that’s been plaguing me for months when I think about getting my PhD. Want to confess to him how uncertain I’ve been feeling lately, how out of sorts I’ve been.

But something stops me. I tell myself it’s just that I need to get going so I’m not late, but deep down, I know that’s not all of it. The truth is, I’m afraid of how my best friend might see me differently if I let on how screwed up my head has gotten lately.