Ruckus (Sinners of Saint 2)

“Her ex-boyfriend just walk in there?” I swear I was foaming from the mouth. “Did that just fucking happen?”

“Darren,” she supplied, her puffed eyes and swollen face somehow breaking into a timid smile. “Nice boy,” she articulated. Because apparently, I wasn’t.

“Who invited him?” I demanded.

“Paul.” Rosie’s dad. “Darren has always been there for her. It was only fair that we let him know.”

“I was always there for her,” I stressed, punching a wall and not feeling anything, not the pain, not the burn, nothing.

“Not when she needed you.” Charlene’s voice was too sad to be flustered by my spontaneous act of violence. “When she needed you, Dean, you disappeared.”

“I’m kicking him out.” I made my way to the door. Rosie was obviously awake if they let him in. There was a little square window on the door, but I knew better than to look. Did he hold her hand? Was she glad to see him? Was she going to kick me out? My head spun with possibilities.

Vicious clasped my arm, squeezing once. “Man.”

“Fuck. You.”

I stormed in. Darren was sloped in a chair by Rosie’s bed. She was awake. And she looked horrible. I’d never seen her like this. So…not herself. Her eyes were dim, dark circles framing her baby blues. Ten pounds skinnier, exhausted, and sad. It was then that I realized that Nina never broke my heart.

Rosie did, eleven years ago.

She did when she pushed me into her sister’s arms.

And she did now, in that hospital bed. Because if she was going to die—so was I.

“Leave,” I commanded, my eyes honing in on my girlfriend. My girlfriend.

Paul and Charlene barged in, yelling at me in decibels human ears weren’t meant to contain. I didn’t listen. I didn’t fucking care. I was going to give Darren a very good reason to stay in the hospital if he didn’t get the hell out.

“She wants me here,” Darren’s white-boy, Connecticut soft voice reported. God, I bet he never said ‘fuck’ and used the word ‘shit’ sporadically.

“Darren.” Rosie leaned forward to pat his hand, her lungs wheezing like a balloon that was losing air. “I’m so sorry my dad asked you to go through all this trouble. There’s a lot going on in my life right now. Please don’t take it the wrong way. I’m very grateful you made it here, but it’s time for you to go.”

Hearing her kicking him out soothed some of my rage away. I gulped thin hospital air and stepped deeper into the room.

Darren looked between Rosie and her dad. Paul shook his head, his lips pursed. Her mom rounded the bed and hugged her. Millie was probably resting somewhere in the hospital. Vicious and Rosie’s parents were about to join her so I could finally have a few fucking moments alone with my girlfriend.

“Fine,” Darren said, finally. “As you wish, Rosie-bug. If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

Confrontational silence hovered between us after Darren left the room. All eyes were on me.

“Everybody out,” I said.

“Even me?” Rosie quirked an eyebrow and tried to smile. And failed. Looking pained for even trying.

“No. I’m keeping you. No one else can handle your ass, anyway.”

“Why are we letting this happen?” Charlene LeBlanc threw her hands in the air. “He left her in the pouring rain, for goodness’ sake! He. Did. This.” She pointed at Rosie, her finger dancing. “Paul, do something.”

“Mama—” Rosie said.

“Sweetheart, I know, but—” Paul tried to pacify his wife.

“Jesus Christ, just shut the hell up.” Vicious slammed his palm against a bed stand, and everyone did shut up. Probably shocked that he would tell them to zip it. “I mean, really? Dean stood her up. Once. After chasing her ass for a long time. I’ve never seen a man endure so much bullshit when it comes to a girl before Dean Cole. Charlene, Paul, I love your daughter. A lot. I would die for her if I had to, but even I have to admit—I did terrible things to her. Things I thought I would never be able to overhaul. The fact that she agreed to marry me is a small miracle. The fact that she knows who I am and still chose to have a baby with me is an even bigger one. But Dean…Dean is not Vicious. Dean made a mistake, not a conscious decision to hurt her. And he deserves to be heard.” He twisted his head, pinning Rosie down with his stare. I stopped breathing, waiting for her to say something.

She coughed, wiggled in place to fix the pillows behind her back, then offered a faint nod.

“Mama, Daddy, I need to hear what he has to say.”

Rosie’s parents exchanged worried looks.

Charlene exhaled. “We’ll be outside.”

The door clicked shut. Our eyes met. She was not doing well, I knew. Now was the time to tell her I finally got it. Why she pushed me into her sister’s arms. Why she let us both suffer through this shit. Love makes you do crazy, irrational things. Love and death are connected by an invisible string. Pull too hard, and you’re gone. I couldn’t live without Rosie. It was, perhaps, the only thing that was clear to me at this point.