Wild Side (Rose Hill, #3)(71)

Tabby is loyal as hell. I don’t think there’s anything I could do that would make her abandon me. And that knowledge is both reassuring and…infuriating? I don’t know if I deserve that kind of dedication. She’s just so damn good—so reliable—that I almost feel small next to her, even when she’s helping me. It’s that I look even worse in her shadow. Shiny versus tarnished.





Maybe I’m jealous.





I wish I could have been more like Tabby.





I feel like I’ve swallowed something sharp as my throat works to digest her words. This is what I get for reading her journals—the knowledge that she both admired and appreciated me while simultaneously begrudging and envying me. And what’s more hilarious is that I don’t think anyone would accuse me of being sunshine. I’m matter-of-fact, and I get shit done.

But I never considered that she may have felt as though I was marching in some superiority parade by helping her. I just did what needed to be done to support her.

I did what needed to be done to keep her alive.

I wanted her to live as if my own life depended on it.

And I still failed.

I ignore the twisting sensation in my gut and the thickness in my throat as I read ahead. She recounts sleepless nights and exhausted days when she knew one hit would give her a high she desperately needed. But then she talks about Milo’s button nose and the way he smiles at her, and how it would give her the boost she needed.

She talks about me, and it makes me smile.


Tabby is a godsend—even if she is a bit of a micromanager. I think without her I’d die from exhaustion rather than addiction. I don’t think many people know the love of a sister the way that I do. One day, I’ll work up the nerve to tell her how much I appreciate her.





I sniffle as I read the passages. Happy sniffles, but no tears. In this phase, it seems like she has more good days than bad. Somehow, even her handwriting looks cleaner—stronger.

When I flip open the third journal, my eyes home in on Rhys’s name, and I slam it shut as I shimmy in my seat. A nervous flutter in my stomach has me pulling my feet up to sit cross-legged as I tug the blanket tighter around my shoulders. Rhys has sworn there was nothing between them, but there’s always a voice of doubt in my head that constantly questions if trusting him is smart. One I’ve been ignoring.

Anticipation and dread braid together and wrap around my throat as I open the journal once again to read something I may not want to know.


Dear Universe,





Excited to report that I have found a beautiful new place to live. Emerald Lake, technically a small city. It’s big enough to feel different from home, and still tiny enough to be cozy. It’s clean, and safe, and unlike anywhere I could have imagined for myself. For the first time in a long time, I feel proud of myself. I feel like all my hard work and all the right choices I’ve made are finally paying off.





My heart soars. Knowing my sister felt this moment brings me a level of peace that I’ve needed.


I’ve got a salaried job at a car dealership and a townhome with a view of the water in Emerald Lake…and my hot-ass neighbor.





Oh. I suck in a breath and forge ahead.


Tall, dark, and handsome personified. Gruff but friendly. No wedding ring. And used an adorable baby voice when he talked to Milo and reached for his hand to shake. Needless to say, I’m pretty sure I’m in love with my landlord. Did I mention he also owns the whole building? LOL.





LOL? She hasn’t used LOL in a single diary entry. It’s like I can feel her giddiness leaping off the page.

I skip ahead to the next entry.


Tabby helped me move in, and as much as I needed her help, I was ready for her to leave. Not because she did anything wrong. Just because…this place feels like a fresh start, like something that’s finally mine. And I can’t handle the constant nervous glances and the “You’re all good, then?” questions.





It’s like she’s taken on a mothering role and is scared to watch me fly from the nest. There’s something embarrassing about having her all up in my business when everything is going so well.





It also annoyed me that my hot-ass landlord popped his painfully handsome head over the fence and asked how long my sister was going to be in town.





That’s how I knew it was time for her to leave.





I blink at the page. Rhys asked how long I was going to be in town? Based on the date at the top of the entry, this must have been a day or two after I marched into his house and laid out some ground rules for being my sister’s landlord.

Guilt licks at my subconscious. It makes me wonder if I fucked up a relationship that might have kept her alive. If she and Rhys had happened, would she still be here? With her perfect sister crushing on her partner?

My head shakes as I brush the thoughts away. I’m taking serious leaps of logic to get to that point.

So instead of playing the “what-if” game, I keep reading through the book under a darkened sky, pages lit only by the soft glow of the back porch light. The night is peaceful, but my brain is a raging storm.