Unloved: Chapter 51

I feel a bit like I’ve been hit by a semi or have a raging hangover from alcohol I definitely didn’t drink.

Sporting a headache courtesy of Toren Kane’s left hook, I finally blink my eyes open to see Ro, propped up uncomfortably, still asleep with her head resting against the wall. My head is smooshed into her thigh, arms hugging her leg to my chest like a body pillow.

Memories from last night flood my system, but instead of regret or anxiety, I feel… relief. Like the giant boulder forever resting on my chest and shoulders has finally been chipped away. Not gone, but lighter.

I slowly untangle myself from her, happy that she doesn’t wake up, so I can gently angle her down to lie on the bed, tucking a blanket around her. She shifts, body relaxing into the pillows with a serene smile.

There is so much that’s beautiful about her, her vibrance and infectious joy. But Ro like this—cozy, sleepy, and undone—turns my heart into mush.

I tuck her hair back and kiss her cheek.

Actively trying to think too much about last night doesn’t stop the anxiety from rolling through. Not knowing how she feels about my entire confession and subsequent breakdown is fraying the edges of my nerves.

The kitchen in Ro and Sadie’s apartment is too empty, in my opinion, but there’s a can of biscuits in the back of the fridge that are easy enough to make and a half-full carton of eggs.

That’s enough—except—

I grab my sweatshirt—giving it a quick sniff test—and Ro’s dorm keys, slipping on my shoes by the door before taking off to the stairs and out into the cold, empty campus.

There’s a coffee shop two buildings over—which is thankfully still open for the break—where I grab an iced dirty chai latte for her and a hot black coffee for me. There’s only one guy working, and he’s slow enough that I’m fidgeting around like a lunatic while waiting for him to finish it, mostly because I forgot my phone and have no idea how long this is taking.

When I get back to Ro’s dorm, she’s awake, looking a little struck at the sight of me.

“You’re here.”

“You’re awake.”

We speak over each other, both laughing as we finish.

“Sorry.” She shakes her head. “I didn’t—is that coffee?”

“Um, no.” I shuffle my feet, regretting it for a moment. “It’s an iced dirty chai. I thought… I can go back and get hot coffee. Or you can have mine.”

She steps forward and grabs the cold drink out of my freezing hand. “It’s my favorite.”

I nod. “I know.”

We both stand quietly, but the silence is too much. I try not to ask her what she’s thinking, trying to give her the space to be vulnerable, until I’m too spinny not to start talking.

“I’m sorry,” I blurt. “I’m sorry about last night and—and I know I shouldn’t… I don’t know if I should even still be here or if you want me to leave. But before you say anything, I—I promise I didn’t know she was married.”

“Married?” Ro snaps. “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t want you to think I’m a bad person—or, like, more of a bad person than I—”

“Stop,” she barks. “Matt, I…”

She starts, opens and closes her mouth again and again, but can’t get the words out.

“I’m withdrawing from her program,” she blurts, brow furrowed.

It’s not at all what I expected her to say.

“What?”

“Tinley’s program,” she grits out, disgust evident in her tone. “I’m withdrawing from it.”

I’ve never heard that voice from Ro—ever. Never seen the heated, angry look in her eyes, either. She’s hardened and resolute, but barely able to spit out Carmen’s name without a shiver of fury.

“What she did to you? That’s unforgivable, Matt. She took advantage of you, used you, manipulated you—”

“She didn’t pressure me— I was willing. I wanted to—”

“Just because you were willing and wanted to doesn’t mean that she wasn’t in a position of power over you, that she didn’t use it against you—use it to manipulate you. And I know she did it, even without you telling me, because she does it all the time!”

She’s nearly shouting by the end of her tirade, metaphorical steam shooting out of her ears.

for My head spins.

“You don’t want to work with her now?” I swallow against the lump in my throat. “I was… I was worried that you’d be mad at me.”

“Why would I be mad at ?” She sounds genuinely confused.

“Because I messed up your internship—your whole plan for grad school, everything. And, Ro, I promise, if you want to work with her, I would never be mad at you for that—”

“Be mad?” Disbelief sinks into her beautiful features. “Matt, no one who cares about you would ever want to be around that woman again. I would never—

, I don’t even know how I’m going to manage being in the same room as her until the end of the semester. Of course I’m withdrawing my application to her program.”

Admiration swirls with affection, my breath catching at the fierce determination on her face. It’s the same look she had in my adviser meeting, facing off with tenured professors twice her age and experience, not batting an eye in the face of their frustration or doubt of her.

I love her.

I do—and it’s more than that; I admire her, every piece that makes her my Rosalie.

“Okay,” I say, nodding stupidly.

“I’ve already started my application to Khabra’s program. And she’s actually going to be a much better fit. I’d picked her first anyway, before Tyler messed with my plans.”

“Ro—”

“And you won’t need a new tutor next semester. You’re passing, you’re fine. And if you need help, you’ll ask me. So we don’t even need to worry about that being a factor in January, and I can just tutor privately.”

She uses so casually my chest tightens, making it hard to speak.

“Ro?”

“The guys in my program are just”—she shakes her head with an eye roll—“just terrible. A horrid work environment that I was already worried about. Besides, I feel much more confident that Dr. Khabra’s entire curriculum is better suited to what I want. And—”

I cut her off. “You’re doing this for me?” She stops, blinking wide hazel eyes across at me.

“And, for, like, all the reasons I’ve said. But… yes,” she says softly.

A grin bursts free, my heart turning to a pile of goo in my chest because it’s the most selfless, protective, incredible thing anyone’s ever done for me.

“You’re doing this for me.” I repeat the statement, to her or to myself I’m not sure.

The three steps it takes to get to her feel too long. Having her in my arms has always been healing, like something soft pressing away the lingering cuts that I’ve never managed to patch.

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Please,” she whimpers, barely getting the word out before my lips are on hers. I try to be gentle, but the freedom to really be with her makes me frantic, needing to touch every part of her.

We trip backward into the wall, giggling a little into the kiss. And I breathe a sigh of relief. There’s no pressure to perform, to be what Ro wants me to be, because what she wants is .

With or without the sex. With or without the hockey. She thinks I’m smart and kind and a good person. And, as hard as it is to admit, she’s the first one to really see me like that.

If I’m honest with myself, this is the first time I feel comfortable and excited to give myself over entirely.

Ro pulls back, pushing firmly on my chest for a second as I break the kiss. This time, it’s her eyes searching mine, lips freshly kissed, cheeks pink. She’s so distracting, and yet my focus is best when it’s on “You’re not going home for Thanksgiving?” she asks.

I shake my head, and she smiles shyly.

“Are you?” I ask, rubbing my hands up and down her bare arms beneath the big sleeves of her oversized T-shirt.

She shakes her head and I grin, scooping her up into my arms.

“Great, then we can spend the entire break together.” I nip at her neck and gently toss her back into her disheveled bed, basking in the warmth of her laughter as I follow.