Rose by Sydney Landon Read Free Book Online

me haunt my dreams, as does the realization that tonight is the start of something that neither of us may be prepared for. We've danced around each other for nearly a year. I've been attracted and drawn to her natural charisma and sassy attitude from the beginning but have been determined not to get involved. Seeing her so despondent tonight hasn't changed my opinion of her. She's still incredible. Is tonight the start of something for us? Should I be running and screaming, "Danger, Will Robinson?" I'm not sure I'm ready to trust a woman with my heart again. Perhaps after dealing with her father, she can't trust hers either. A perfect storm can’t be stopped, though. You can only hold on and try to ride it out—hoping you’ll survive the aftermath.
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    I feel it building . I panic as I try to control my breathing. No! Don’t let me have an attack in Max’s house. What if he hears me? But as usual, the man upstairs is busy and I’m on my own. I push up from the bed and stagger into the bathroom. I begin opening drawers, trying to find a bag of some sort, but there is nothing. My breathing is becoming more rapid, and I’m seeing spots by the time I make it to the kitchen. In some part of my mind, I’m grateful Max left a light on.
    There is no time to be picky. I upend some bread and use the plastic wrap to breathe into. I sway on my feet, afraid I’ve left it too late this time, but the dizziness finally begins to abate and the dots before my eyes are slowly clearing. Thank God. I lean against the counter for another few minutes until I’m feeling more under control.
    That’s when I see it—a knife sitting in the sink.
    It’s not that I’m scared. No, it’s exactly the opposite. The hand still holding the bag shakes as I focus intently upon the sharp, stainless steel blade. I need it—so fucking badly. More than I ever have before.
    Suddenly, it’s in my hand. I have no conscious thought of moving, but I must have. The one thing that has chased the worst of the shadows from my life. The sharp relief that it brings will push the bad thoughts away—at least for now. Lia told me several months ago about Lucian’s battle with cocaine and how proud she was that he had gotten help for his addiction. She’s also mentioned he hadn’t wanted Lia to know because he’d felt ashamed that she was dealing with all that had happened in her life without a crutch while he was not. And that was almost exactly the same reason I’d never told her about my cutting. It made me feel weak and embarrassed, and it was so far from the image I’ve worked hard to present to the world. Rose Madden was a strong, kick-ass woman, not a scared girl who resorted to self-harming to cope.
    I am falling apart, though, and fear I will have a complete breakdown unless I can divert my attention. I’d once read that your body can only process one pain source at a time, and over the years, I’ve found that to be true. If I’m suffering from emotional pain, then I can mask it by cutting. A thin line between my thighs can provide as much relief as Vicodin. Sure, the pain from the incision hurts, but it’s a different type of discomfort. Strangely enough, I equate it to a good spring cleaning. It clears the cobwebs and allows me to enjoy the space within and around me once again. Am I rationalizing? Almost certainly, but it works. The network of silvery scars left behind is just collateral damage.
    That first nick of the razor had been an accident. My father’s criticism had taken its toll, and it had happened while rushing through my shower before dinner. His cruel words about tardiness last night hit me again. Does he really despise me this much? Watching that thin line of blood trickle down my thigh had … settled me. Soothed. By the time I was getting dressed, I’d completely forgotten about my earlier upset. From something so seemingly innocent had been born a dark secret that I had managed to keep from everyone in my life except