Page 27 of Let the Light Shine Through

Roz. Roz. Roz.

When he finds himself, he’s going to be a force—again.

After meeting Roz, I searched him up. Of course, I did. Guy’s a fucking beast on the side of a mountain, and a couple hours into my research, some might otherwise call stalking, I found myself wishing I could see him in his element. In person.

But the way his fingers are tightening around the steering wheel tell me the chances of that ever happening are as slim as me finding last night’s underwear.

Fletcher. Fucking Magpie.

Roz would never. He cuddles. He’s a cuddler. Cuddlers don’t steal used underwear.

Instead of worrying about where I’m going, Roz needs to figure out where he’s headed because he definitely doesn’t belong here. His brand-new, shiny truck behind my vintage rust-bucket pickup says as much, the contrast as glaring as the sun pushing through the clouds outside.

Talk about wasting time.

Back to my own cave I go…

I reach up for my hood but stop, remembering I’m in a sweatshirt. Roz’s sweatshirt.

Oh well. I’m not a cuddler. I have no problem nicking outfits.

With a jerk of my chin, Rowdy approaches the passenger door, but the moment his hand touches the handle, Roz hits the lock button. I know I shouldn’t, but I laugh anyway. I wasn’t kidding when I said my best friend’s a Cockatoo. He’s playful, affectionate, and loyal, but when it comes to those he loves, he’s also protective with a fierceness nobody sees coming until it’s too late. In this case, his bite is so much worse than his bark, and his bark can be pretty bad when he’s pissed.

I hold up my pointer to Rowdy, telling Roz, “Thanks for your help today. Pretty sure the girls like you more than they like me now.” Screw that, I know they do. I’ll probably catch hell from them the next time I show up and he’s not with me but…life’s unfair.

Roz drops his stare to his wrist before redirecting it to the passenger window.

“So, that’s it, huh? On to the next?”

Eyeballing him, then the full bed of my truck, I answer, “Always,” and in this moment, we’re not exactly speaking the same language, but we seem to understand each other nonetheless. A battle of wills can only end with someone breaking first, but like he said last night, I can’t.

Releasing his breath, he unlocks the doors, mumbling something about later. Nothing is promised in this life, and later is no exception, so I keep quiet as I grip the handle.

Before I can overthink it, I plant a kiss on the inside glass of the passenger window, leaving a print of my lips behind. It’s the only “later” I can manage.

Rowdy hands me his all-black trucker hat as soon as my feet touch the ground and I fit it to my head, parting ways with him at my tailgate, each of us going for our respective doors.

I hear Roz lower his window and ask, “When can I get my clothes back? All of them?”

Rowdy ducks inside the cab of my Ford with a knowing laugh and a muttered, “Good luck with that.”

“I’ll trade you,” I tell Roz, “when you find my underwear.”

“Underwear… What?”

“Lifted straight from your bathroom. I was gonna have Rowdy make MISSING signs and everything.”

Rowdy says, “I’m not doing that shit,” ruining my joke.

I shake my head at him, scolding, “So rude,” before closing the door on Roz complaining about not having my number. “I would do it for you.”

“No, you wouldn’t. You’ve stolen my underwear.”

“Yeah, to wear. Not to…whatever Fletcher’s planning on doing with mine.”

We pause, listening to Roz peel out of the driveway. Gravel sprays everywhere, even dinging off the back of my tailgate and I close my eyes, pretending it doesn’t bother me—not the damage to my ride, but the thought of never seeing Roz again.

Once it’s quiet again, I open them.