Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I look at the books on the shelf like the correct one will suddenly speak to me, hopelessly hoping my gut will tell me which one should I pick.
The truth is, I've got no idea where to start. And I've already spent too much time here anyway, they will start to look for me if I don't hurry up…

Somehow I ended up in the psychology section of this dark and dusty bookstore, and by reading the titles or authors I can’t tell which one I should read.

Maybe I should've stuck with buying new clothes and getting a new haircut, something more expected from me than whatever I'm trying to achieve by being here, staring dumbly at concepts I can't grasp.

The vague ideas I had about them I dismissed quickly, I barely got through highschool in the first place so I try to be easy on myself for not knowing things no one taught me.

I'll learn by myself, like I always did, it's what I'm used to.

“Do you need help?”

I jump at the voice and turn around quickly. There is a man, standing and looking at me with curiosity and an awkward smile. He's at least a head taller than me, and it should scare my body the way creepy guys always do, but I barely react to his presence on the outside, he just looks… like he couldn’t hurt a fly.

I just nod slowly and turn to look at the books again. If he’s offering to help, he might work here.

The man doesn't look menacing or particularly dangerous, so I try to calm my racing heart. I don’t feel scared, I know I don’t, but for whatever reason, I can feel my heart almost jumping out of my chest.

“I…” I clear my voice before starting over. “I'm looking for a book about the grieving process?”

“None of those are.”

“Right.”

The sudden urge to bite my tongue strikes me, I should've kept quiet and let the man walk by me.

But he doesn't make fun of me like I expected him to. Instead he says: “I have some I can lend you, though.”

My eyes find him as I try to figure out just what this guy's purpose is.

He looks friendly, a little nervous if anything.

It doesn't make sense to me, this guy is fairly attractive and he definitely looks past the age where kids flirt with girls at their workplace.

I would probably let myself be charmed by this one when I was young, but then again, I was always easily charmed.
It would’ve been an easy job, even if I’m seeing he's all awkward smiles and nervous leg's movements; and that’s not my type at all, but I would’ve entertained the thought…

“Is that so?” The steadiness of my voice surprises me, it even comes out as flirty, I notice as he seems to trip over his answer.

“I mean… yeah- I have some from when I was younger… you probably already read them.”

I haven't, in fact, read anything about psychology. And reading is not really my thing, if I could find a way to solve my problems with any other discreet activity I would choose that.

I’m in no position to get picky, whatsoever.

“Sure, but if you're offering… how could I say no?”

He smiles shyly and nods, offering his hand.

“I'm Spencer, by the way.”

I take his hand, feeling him shake it softly. He kind of grimaces but hides it quickly, his hand, however, twitches slightly as if it wants to break free from my hold.

“Rowan Darwish” The name slips easily, and how could it not? it's the one I've been using for a couple of years now. “Nice to meet you.”

His eyes look down and he twists my hand just a little, my wedding ring seems to glow underneath the sunlight coming from the window.

I scan his reaction quickly, and while he looks surprised, I can't find anything like disappointment or distaste.

So… not flirting, I guess.

“Beautiful ring. Rose gold?”

I don't know, actually, but I nod softly.

“My husband used to love rose gold.” I lie, because I don't even know if he did, he might as well have loved silver.

He did get buried with a gold watch.

Spencer looks at me with a frown and sad eyes, but his eyes are piercing my skin with their intensity.

Feeling scrutinized, I take my hand from him swiftly and look at the ring with fake nostalgia. It's better than trying to fake tears when I’m not really in the mood for making a scene..

“I'm sorry.” He says plainly.

It's ok with me, the last thing I need now is some stranger feeling bad about Adam's passing.

God knows he had it coming.

“It's ok, he's in a better place now.”

An uncomfortable silence fills the place, I just stare at him in hoping he’ll be the one to break it.

“Well, Rowan, my apartment is a couple of blocks away if you need those books now…”

My blood runs cold as I listen to his words and my brain registers them, instinctively, I want to run away from him. I wasn’t expecting that at all.

But he's been nothing but kind and, again, he doesn't look dangerous; so I force myself to stay put and give a reluctant nod.

“I… Do you… live alone?” I hate how my voice comes out shaky, and, by the way his eyes open wide, I know he noticed it.

“I do. But don't worry! you can wait outside or… maybe I can meet you here in ten minutes?” He offers, rushing the words out in an apologetic tone.

“I'm just being dumb, show me the way.” I quip, forcing a smile onto my face to try and reassure him.

He nods and turns around, allowing me to catch my breath.

Come on now, A, he's not going to kill you.

I follow him quietly out of the store, he walks with a steadiness and calmness I wouldn't expect from someone who looked so skittish and unsure back in the bookstore.

He looks hesitant to start a conversation, but he does anyway. His eyes glancing over at me.

“So… uh, what got you into psychology?”

“Understanding the way my brain works, I guess.” I answer, keeping a tight smile on my face.

“That could take you years, I haven't figured it out myself and I got a BA in it.”

My eyebrows raise at the new information.

“I've got a lot of free time and I love to read.” My voice sounds weird to my ears, it’s almost as if I had something to prove by saying that.

“Really?” He seems very excited by my answer, which makes me feel bad about lying. “What are your favorite books?”

“Hamlet.” I lie through my teeth, hoping I don't sound too dumb. “I like the classics, what can I say…”

My tone is firm and leaves no time for second guessing, to anyone else it might sound like nothing but the truth, for me it sounds like a kid trying to sound like a grownup.

“I have a couple of Shakespeare's books myself.” He admits proudly, putting an invisible hair behind his ear. When he notices, and sees I noticed too, he laughs awkwardly. “I just got a haircut, sorry.”

It's endearing, he looks softer now that he's away from that dusty bookstore and their low lighting.

“You had long hair?” I ask, not out of real interest but instead eager to get away from the literature talk.

“Yes! It reached my shoulders, it was getting in the way of… things.” He explains with a smile.

“Well, you chose the right haircut.”

For once, I'm being honest. And he seems to glow with the compliment.

“Thank you! I like your curls, are they natural?”

I nod, touching a strand of hair. I was too lazy to straighten it today, and I wasn't supposed to talk to anyone.

This trip was completely improvised, I just needed to get away from that house and the kids.

“I got them from my mom.” I mumble, looking at it and trying to remember her.

“She must be beautiful then.”

“She was.” I say without thinking, and then I look at his shocked face. Before he can say anything I rush to explain myself, not wanting him to feel bad. “I'm sorry! Everyone around me seems to die, it's not a big deal. And my parents died when I was really young!”

“Both of them?” He asks, still shocked.

I nod quickly. Then, as I search for the words, I realize I've spoken way too much.

And I really shouldn't be doing that.

But Spencer might just have the superpower of getting me to run my mouth in ways I shouldn't, I’m so used to lying and I still told him a few truths.

Who was the last person who knew about my parents?

I can't even remember.

Hell, I know Adam didn’t know about them until we were planning our wedding.

“They died within months of each other, it's been years, I got over it.” I explain quickly, because this isn’t a conversation I should have with a stranger. At least it’s not technically a complete lie, so it sounds more convincing than most things I have said today while keeping my life out of this.

“It must've been hard, were you on your own or did you have any siblings?”

“My sister took me in, her husband was kind enough to allow it.”

He was a pervert.

And my sister was a fucking idiot.

“You don't look like a younger child.”

I'm not.

“What do I look like, then?” I choose to ask, better to play along his curiosity instead of continuing to spill my guts.

Spencer thinks for a second, before looking straight into my eyes.

“You handle yourself like it's a burden to be noticed, and younger kids usually preen under attention.”

A burden to be noticed, he said.

Funny enough, I could say the same about him.

“Maybe I'm just having a rough day.” I offer, shrugging with a tight smile.

He nods, not quite convinced. Which makes me a little nervous, men usually don’t care at all about how obvious my lies are. Or maybe they are too distracted by my boobs to care, but this outfit isn't particularly flattering on any part of my body, I must admit, maybe that’s why he doesn’t look affected by them.

We enter a building that looks like it might need a couple of renovations, thankfully the way to Spencer's apartment feels short, the only real obstacle being the stairs.

The man struggles with his keys for a second, giving me an apologetic smile as he opens the door.

He takes a step aside and motions me to walk in first. I try to keep my senses on guard, knowing I'm being way too reckless to follow a stranger home and being the first to enter his place.

When he finally gets inside, I let myself look around.

It's messy in an organized way, very different from my house.

Even the clutter seems to have a determined place and the pile of books laying around look carefully put in small categories.

“You can sit if you want to, I have to look for the right books.”

Right, that's why we're here.

I sit on the sofa, feeling myself relax into it. Why do I have such uncomfortable sofás when I could have ones like this? Adam isn't around to complain about my lack of taste anymore…

I won't be staying in the house much longer, though, so decorating it is none of my business.

Spencer comes back quicker than I expected him to. He's holding around seven books and his excited smile makes me feel less nervous.

“Those are the books?” I ask incredulously, they have way too many pages.

“Yes! I can explain their order if you want to.”

Before I can answer, my eyes fall on a book I've seen before, it’s just behind Spencer, sitting on a shelf that looks like it needs to be dusted.

“George Orwell?”

Spencer turns around and finds the book in one of his shelfs, he grabs it and blows the dust out of it.

“You like him?” He asks, offering me the book with interest.

“I read 1984 when I was young…” I explain, grabbing Animal Farm with trembling hands I try to cover.

This damn book, maybe the first one I finished without wanting to hang myself. It had a special place in my heart, made me think about the unfairness of the whole situation I was in. 1984 was a great one too, sadly I never finished it.

“Interesting choice. Did you like it?”

“It resonated with me.” I comply, giving the book back. “Did you like it?”

“It was ok.”

He puts the book where it belonged before sitting next to me, showing me each book and the order they had to be read in. I try to keep a polite smile throughout his explanations, noticing I’m not feeling annoyed by him, instead I’m soaking in the information while trying to keep at bay my interest.

Something else sparks my curiosity; for someone who claims to have studied those books, they look untouched. The pages aren't folded or stained, none of the books have annotations or underlined words.

When he has finished explaining them, I put most of the books in my backpack, the rest I'm going to carry in my arms.

“You're sure they aren't too heavy?” He asks with a weak frown, I just shrug.

“Between the weight on my back and my arms, I think they balance each other out.” I tell him, he just frowns deeper and watches me as I try to adjust to the new weight.

His eyes keep track of my movements for a minute as I get ready to leave, before he disappears to another room; coming back with a jacket and cash he hands me with a smile that looks practiced.

“Here.”

“What?” I ask, looking at the money with a frown.

I haven't needed to ask for money in years now, and I surely am not taking it from a guy like Spencer, if this place is an indictment of his wealth.

“It's late, you don't have a jacket and it's dangerous to walk at night, so…”

The window lets me see just how dark it has gotten, the night is slowly falling, but he's right, it's too late to be walking around.

I grab the jacket slowly, cursing myself for not having thought about it before I left the house. In my defense, I didn’t think I would wander too far or take this long to go back.

“I have money, Spencer. I'll just take a taxi or something.”

“Let me call one for you, then.” He's already grabbing the phone by the time he is finished talking.

As I put on the jacket the smell of his cologne reaches my nose, making me take a deep breath. It smells nice, expensive, something I wouldn't expect from him.

Even if he has a small apartment and messy habits, he doesn't look disheveled.

“What do I do with these after I'm finished reading them?” I ask, pointing to the books.

“You can keep them, I already read them. But if you need more, feel free to drop by.”

“And how will I know when you're home?”

“I'll give you my number!”

I wasn't expecting that, my question was very much an attempt at teasing him.

But I'm definitely not complaining.

He scribbles the numbers on a piece of paper, handing it to me with a smile. I grab it just in time to hear a claxon from outside.

“My carriage is here!”

“Be careful not to lose your shoe.” He jokes, getting a laugh out of me.

I cover my mouth, feeling my cheeks blush in embarrassment.
It sounded horrible, but Spencer only smiles as he shows me the way out.

We wave goodbye and I get into the taxi, only feeling the heat leave my face when I tell the driver my address.

Half an hour later I pay him and get out, walking quickly towards the house.

My keys jingle as I open the door, I'm surprised by the sudden weight on my body, making me drop Spencer's books.

“Nova!” I chastise, letting her land on the ground so I can gather the books. “You don't have to jump on me every time you see me!”

“She was waiting for you.”

My eyes meet Philip’s, he stares at me with judgemental eyes. I know he doesn't like me, he was too devoted to Adam.

And me arriving this late isn't helping my case.

“I know, I missed her too. Did you take her out for a walk?”

“Yes, but she doesn't seem to be tired.”

“She never is.” I agree, looking at her with a big smile.

She barks at me and jumps from her spot, this time only making me stumble a couple of steps back without dropping anything.

“Do you need help with that?”

“No, Philip, you can leave now. Thank you.”

He nods solemnly, grabbing his things before walking past me.

I roll my eyes once I know he's out of sight, whistling at Nova for her to follow me.

Both of us enter the house, but I'm quickly left alone in the hall as Nova runs straight to the kitchen.

She might miss this house more than me once we move.

“Oh! Here you are!” I hear a squeaky voice say, my eyes find her immediately. “Hey, idiot! Mrs. Darwish is home!”

The boy rushes down the stairs and stands in front of me with his arms crossed.

“You left us.” He accuses.

I nod, feeling the guilt bubbling on my chest.

“Sorry, kids. I needed to get out, this is just… too much.” I excuse myself, and they share a look before sighing and pulling me into a tight hug.

They’re bigger than I remember them being, but it was bound to happen, they left for college and barely came to visit us. I let myself drop a few tears, I feel theirs too.

“I know, Rowan. He was an asshole and you don’t owe him anything, but we need you here to solve all of this.” The girl says softly, and her brother nods shortly.

When they pull away from the hug, I wipe my tears and put on my best poker face.

“What do I have to sign?”

*·˚ ༘ ➳ ♡

I wait patiently on the bench, hoping my nervous demeanor won’t give me away so easily.

It’s not like I’m nervous because of Rowan, that’s not it, she’s sweet and kind and I have no reason to be like this. So it might be the expectation of this whole thing, I’m not really good at making new friends or connecting with strangers.

Before I can overthink this into canceling the meeting and running back to my apartment, I see her walking with a carefree expression. I can’t match it, my eyes fall on the big dog walking next to her with way too much energy.

None of us get to say anything, instead I screech and Rowan shouts as the big dog jumps on me, making me fall right back to the bench I was getting up from.

“Nova, sit!”

But it’s too late, her tongue has already dragged on my face and it left me wet with slobber.

I feel like crying now, definitely.

When I open my eyes, the dog is sitting next to Rowan and looking at me with big eyes, its tongue hanging out.

My eyes find Rowan’s, she looks apologetic and her cheeks are bright red as she reaches for my hand. She helps me get back up and starts scolding the dog.

“It’s ok.” I tell her, because the dog looks sad now and I have to be the bigger person. “It just caught me off guard.”

“It?” She asks, a smile tugging the corner of her lips. “Her name is Nova. I’m really sorry, she only ever does that to me, I didn’t think of holding her back.”

Her explanation is not enough for me, and maybe a few years ago I would’ve snapped at her for being an irresponsible dog owner, but I give the dog a look again and she doesn’t look like she’ll bite my face off.

Golden retrievers are rarely violent. Only 15% fail the temperament test and they're often considered family dogs.

“Well, Nova, you surprised me.” I tell her with the same voice I use with Henry.

The dog lifts her paw and puts it on my leg, getting a giggle out of Rowan.

What a beautiful sound…

An involuntary smile sneaks its way to my face as I look at her.

She bites her lip before looking away.

“Uhm, well, I already finished these two and I’m like halfways on the third one.” Rowan starts explaining, reaching for her backpack and pulling out my books. “I liked them a lot, but they felt almost too technical…?”

“Oh, did you have any issues understanding them? I can explain them to you, if you want.” I offer, and she makes a face while considering, but ends up nodding.

“Let me show you the page so you can understand the context.” She says, starting to look for it. I reach for her hands, stopping her, she frowns at me.

“Just tell me, I’m sure I remember.”

“You remember?” She asks with an incredulous smile.

“I have a B.A. in psychology.” I offer as an explanation, she tilts her head and waits for me to continue. “Just ask.”

And she does, albeit a little reluctant. When I start rambling about the book and simplifyng the concepts, her mouth opens and she starts nodding eagerly.

That’s the start of our little stroll, we walk slowly and I try to answer all her questions, sometimes I have to stop myself so Rowan can chase her dog or throw her ball. Otherwise, she seems very interested in my words and not once does she ask me to stop or slow down.

She even waits for me to stop explaining before asking again.

“At this point I should just ask you to read out loud for me, so I can voice my doubts as they come.” She jokes after I finish explaining the third book, but I stop walking to muse the idea.

“That would be fun.” I say, and she looks slightly surprised. “I’d have to tell you when I get off work, but I think we could actually do it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I love reading and… people say you learn more by explaining things to other people, it might help me get better at my job.” I shrug, feeling like my silly excuse might not be enough for her to agree.

But Rowan just nods slowly.

“It’ll be like a little book club!” She exclaims, bouncing excitedly. “Will it always be psychology books, though?”

“We can read anything you want.” I promise with a shrug. She seems to get more excited then.

“Will you make funny voices?”

“It depends, will you tease me for it?”

“Absolutely, yes.” I roll my eyes, she laughs and rests her hand on my arm. “I’m joking, we can make funny voices together.”

I'm supposed to continue the banter, but the softness of her touch has left me breathless.

The same hand that held a slobbery ball just a few minutes ago is now touching my uncovered arm.

Although my brain has started to calculate the amount of germs and dirt Rowan's hand might have, my heart seems to be racing for completely different reasons.

She notices my gaze on her hand and immediately retreats it, giving me an understanding smile.

“I-” My phone rings, successfully breaking our bubble. When I glance at the caller, I can't help the disappointed sigh that escapes me. “Sorry, it's work.”

“No, you're ok. I have to head back to my house anyways.” She says easily, whistling at Nova and getting her to stay still to put her leash back on. “I'll text you as soon as I finish reading the book, so we can talk about our first club meeting.”

“Yeah, if you have any questions about the books you're reading, just text me.” I tell her, wanting her to follow through. “Or if you just need to vent, really, you're the only person I talk to outside of work.”

Her brows raise momentarily, and I curse myself for sounding so desperate.

It's not exactly a lie, so I don't know why I now feel guilty about basically undermining my friendship with the team.

“Ok, but you can text me too, you know? To vent about anything.” She shrugs with a smile. “We're friends now, ride or die and everything.”

Are we friends?

My phone rings again.

Rowan looks at it before leaning in to kiss my cheek, whispering a goodbye in my ear before pulling away.

I wave at her, dumbfounded, and continue to watch her walking in the opposite direction, her dog following her lead.

Friends.

To stop myself from overthinking, I answer the call.

“Pretty boy! Hotch needs us in Quantico like right now, do you need a ride?”

“Uhm, no. I was downtown buying some things, I'm on my way now.” I lie, starting to walk to the nearest metro station.

“Alright, see you!”

Morgan is my friend, he has been for years, yet our physical contact usually starts and ends with a ruffle on my hair or a hand on my shoulder.

JJ and Garcia do hug a lot, even Emily does sometimes.

But a kiss on the cheek?

It didn't look like it was a big thing for her, maybe it wasn't, maybe she's used to doing that with her friends.

I'll just have to adapt.

My head keeps spinning around the word “friends”, logically I know we aren't, we're almost strangers and as much as the team likes to tease me about my lack of social awareness, I know friendship doesn't occur just like that.

Back when I was in kindergarten it did, though, my first day some kid declared themselves my best friend and I went along with it until I had to skip to elementary school.

Same thing happened in first and second grade, but I kept skipping grades and those friendships didn't last.

Now, Rowan probably has a lot of friends, she looks like a well adjusted adult that should know friendships don't just happen.

I'm overthinking now.

Why did I even talk to her in the first place? I don't know what came over me that day, I just needed her to get away from that section so I could choose a new book.

As soon as she looked at me, though, I knew I was done for.

*·˚ ༘ ➳ ♡

Spencer: If I had any time to spare I would go back to that cafe and ask for a refund.

Spencer: Or even if they can do it again it's ok! This is not what I asked for.

I giggle at Spencer's behavior, imagining frowning at his coffee and cursing the poor baristas that probably weren't being malicious when they got his order wrong.

Me: I think they were looking out for you, have you ever been tested for diabetes? That's a crazy amount of sugar…

Spencer: It is not! It's perfectly reasonable, why would I want to drink some bitter bean water?

Me: Why drink coffee then? Just ask for a milkshake or something.

Spencer: I am an insomniac, the coffee helps me staying awake during the day.

“What are you smiling at, mom?”

I look up from my phone, watching Lily's smirk as she pouts herself some orange juice that Philip made earlier.

“Don't call me mom.” I plead, refusing to engage in another argument about the same topic with her again. “I'm just talking to my brother, do you want pancakes?”

“Not really, but I'll eat a banana.” She shrugs.

I try my best not to frown.

Lily hasn't been eating well since her dad died, and I can't help but worry. She might not be my daughter but I've known her for almost four years and she insists on looking up at me as a mother figure.

Hell, I'm not even sure I want children, but I do love this girl.

“You need to eat something else, how about a smoothie?”

“No, it's ok.”

“Lily…”

“Don't make that voice, Rowan. You're like ten years older than us.” The boy complains, joining us in the kitchen with a tense expression. “And you, Lily, stop calling her mom, it's weird.”

“It is.” I agree, used to the boy's bad mood.

He got that from Adam.

“She is our mom.”

“She was our stepmom.” He corrects, rolling his eyes again. “Honestly, she could be our sister, dad was so gross for marrying her.”

If he knew my real age the disgust would be worse.

I don't let the comment get to me, because I know Adam was gross and I couldn't agree more with him. Technically I could be their older sister and I stopped being their stepmom the moment my husband died.

“Can you shut up? It's too early for your horrible voice.” Lily snaps, rolling her eyes.

“No. In fact, we should talk about the house.”

“What about it?” I ask with my head tilted. “We already agreed on selling it.”

“Yeah, but I mean, are you giving us half the money?”

“Not really.” I shrug. “It's not like you were raised here, and you already got the other houses. Philip is arranging everything to buy half my percentage of the hotels… I think I'll keep the money from this house, start saving or something.”

“You can also keep two of the cars, you pick.” Lily adds, her brother sends her a look.

“No, I'll pick the ones I want first.”

“That's ok by me, I suppose you're keeping the boat?” I ask, and he nods.

“Yeah, and dad's hunting collection. Lily should get to keep grandma's jewelry.”

“Of course.”

“Theodore.” Lily interrupts. “You do notice Rowan isn't asking for anything? Just make a list of everything you want and we'll arrange it.”

“She's right, whatever you want. If you want to buy this house out of my hands as well, do it. I don't care, Theo.”

“Mom's been telling us you would take everything.” Lily tells me, rolling her eyes. “She's mad she didn't make it into the will, and she was furious when I called you mom.”

“Don't do that, Lils.” I roll my eyes.

The last thing I need is Adam's ex wife breathing down my neck.

“It's really nothing against you, Rowan. Sorry if I'm being… abrasive.” Theodore says, sighing. “I just thought dad would be on his fifth wife when he died, you shouldn't be dealing with this at all.”

“Death is not predictable, kids. You've been handling ok, I honestly was expecting a lot more tears.”

“That's why you left?”

“I-”

My phone rings, and they share a look before excusing themselves.

It's almost engraved in their minds, Adam used to dismiss whoever was around him when he got a call, the kids just know to leave people alone when they're on the phone.

It used to annoy me, but now I'm deeply grateful for the alone time I've been granted.

And I use it to hang up on the caller and return to my chat with Spencer.

Spencer: Now, a milkshake with caffeine? I think I would like that.

Spencer: I'm kidding, by the way.

Spencer: Did I scare you off with my genius idea?

The last two messages are a few minutes apart from each other, I laugh to myself imagining him coming up with that ‘genius idea’.

Me: Not at all, I think you should trademark it.

Me: Sorry for not answering, I was just setting a price on my house with the advisers.

His response is immediate.

Spencer: You're selling your house? Why? You could just rent it.

Me: Well, it was my husband's house and I don't feel comfortable living here anymore…

Spencer: Right, have you started looking for a new house?

Me: Not really, but I know I have to look for one that has a big backyard

Me: That's all I care about.

Spencer: I can help you, if you want. I have a friend who buys houses to restore them.

How incredibly convenient.

Me: You must be a gift from God.

I regret the text as soon as I send it. There's no way someone just says that to a person they've only met twice, he must really think I'm crazy or-

Spencer: :D

Spencer: I just love to help my friends as much as I can.

Friends.

I've never had friends before.

Maybe when I was younger, definitely before my parents passed away, and even then I didn't connect with kids easily. And I could be misjudging Spencer a little too much, but he looks like the kind of guy who struggled like that too. Maybe we could bond over it, because I’m not really sure what friendship looks like at my age.

This, against my best judgement, has me giddy.I was being a bit childish when I declared us friends, I regretted it as soon as I said it.

We could be good acquaintances and that's it, I know that I'll miss a friend when I leave this place and I can't afford that at this point.

Also, friends shouldn't lie to each other and that's all I've ever known.

I considered Adams's kids my friends, they thought it was weird because I'm supposed to be much older, so they didn't consider me their friend. I was hurt by it then, now I understand their reasons and I'm glad I don't owe them that kind of relationship.

Now I owe Spencer my time, everything I have left until I leave this place, he deserves as much for going along with the burden I put on his shoulders.

If this does blossom into a true friendship, I'm willing to keep in touch after I leave.

A sigh escapes me as I start replying the text.

Me: Your other friends must be so lucky then, if you're doing this for a girl you just met…

Spencer: I'm the lucky one, we help each other a lot. I'm even a godparent to one of their kids!

Me: That's amazing.

Spencer: Yes! He's the smartest kid, maybe one day I can bring him over with me at the park and he can play with Nova?

Me: She loves kids, but you met her.

Me: I don't want her jumping on the little guy and hurt him or anything.

Me: I'm being dumb. Of course we can arrange that!

Me: I'll just have to run around with her so she isn't super energetic when they meet.

Spencer: Don't worry about it, I'm sure Henry won't mind a fun playmate.

I scrunch my face and turn to look at Nova, who is sleeping just next to her bowl of food in the strangest position.

We aren't used to little kids, but I guess the few times we visited my brother weren't so bad…

She already messed up our first meeting at the park, with the way Spencer kept washing his hands at every water fountain and grimacing each time I threw her ball.

But I'm sure we'll be fine, next time I'll be more prepared, I'll even bring hand sanitizer and a towel to keep our hands free of slobber.

Me: Well then, I guess we're organizing a playdate then.

Spencer: It definitely won't be anytime soon, I'll have to prove to his mother that I can babysit on my own first.

Me: Or she can come along?

Spencer: I'd rather not.

His answer is almost immediate, and I can't help but frown at it. Reading people's intentions over text is not my strongest skill.

Is he opposed to me meeting his friend? Or maybe worried his friend will fuss about her kid if Nova plays too rough?

I know how parents can get when their kids are hurt, but even then, Spencer surely would not be annoyed by it, I don't think.

But I just met him, maybe I shouldn't be making assumptions.

Me: Ok.

Me: Anyways, guess who made the most amazing pancakes today?

Spencer: You?

Me: Yesss

Me: I ate most of them by myself, and I even put berries on them.

Spencer: I'm hungry now.

Spencer: Is it too early for a lunch break?

Me: Definitely, but you can do brunch?

Spencer: Hope my boss won't notice me slipping away.

Spencer: I'll blame you if he does!

Me: I'm sure you can catch up with work later, now go eat something before your blood turns into coffee.

Spencer: It'll turn into sugar instead, I plan on getting something with chocolate in it.

Me: I should've made you crave something healthier…

Me: What about a salad? Aren't they so yummy?

Me: I'll definitely make a salad for lunch.

Me: yummyyyy

Spencer: Too late now.

A couple minutes later, a photo of a cupcake arrives and I laugh. It really looks like he picked the most sugary thing.

Oh God, I'll be responsible for this man's health problems, won't I? Uncharacteristically too, because I’m not the best at meeting new people.

Spencer, however, might just be the exception to all of my established patterns.

*·˚ ༘ ➳ ♡

“You've been awfully quiet, boybander…” Derek teases, breaking my little bubble of concentration.

“Finding all those women in that state…” I try to explain, but I know deep down that isn't the only reason.

The unsub was targeting women who looked way too much like Rowan. It got to a point that I'm subconsciously checking in during the day, just to make sure she's okay, the thing is: we're miles away from D.C. and Rowan mostly stays at her house.

Maybe my brain is playing tricks on me, she has average features after all.

“No, that's not it. We've had cases like this before and-” before Derek could continue with his theory, my phone chimed.

His eyes have a spark of curiosity as I reach for it.

“Go on.” I signal, reading the text while trying to keep a straight face.

Rowan: Finally sold the house !! Can't wait to get out of here.

Me: That 's great! Have you searched for a new one?

“Ok, Reid, you're getting on my nerves now. Who is she?” Derek asked, loud enough that everyone around us heard.

“What are you talking about?”

“You barely pay attention to us anymore. What 's her name?”

“Who’s name?”

He gives me a look, and I can see him getting frustrated but I refuse to let anyone know.

This past month we've been talking non stop, Rowan is really sweet and she tries really hard to understand me. She doesn't fool me, I know she isn't a bookworm like I am but she seems to enjoy my lectures.

Otherwise she wouldn't bother even looking at my texts, those have been non-stop for the last eighteen days.

At first I was really bad at texting back, since it's not something I particularly enjoy, but after a few days I got used to just saying random things to her via texts.

“Reid, come on man. We're friends! you can tell me!”

“I have nothing to-”

My eyes land on my phone again, the characteristic sound of a text arriving is enough to make me forget the conversation.

Rowan: I think I'll be staying in a hotel while I look for a new place…

Rowan: Hopefully Nova won't trash the room, I don't plan on paying any fines.

Me: She looks like an angel, though. I'm sure she'll be on her best behavior.

Rowan: She's all looks !! little demon child.

Before meeting this girl I didn't understand people who treat their pets like humans. And now that I know both Rowan and her dog, I can see the amount of love people have for their animal companions.

Nova almost knocked me over when she first met me. And she made sure to lick my whole face before I even greeted her owner.

I don't like dogs.

But Rowan loves her dog, she treats her like a daughter.

Me: Maybe she gets it from her mother?

Rowan: You have no idea !!

Derek takes my phone from me before I get the chance to text back, he reads over the texts quickly as I try to get the phone out of his hands.

The team notices the situation, and soon I have all eyes on me.

We're being so unprofessional right now, thankfully the police station it's mostly empty this early in the morning…

“You have a girlfriend?” Derek asks once I finally get the phone safely in my hands.

“What? No!”

“Then why are you reacting like that?”

I look at Derek and then at the rest of the team, seeing their curiosity and how they're waiting for my answers.

Except from Hotch, who has a mix of annoyance and interest flickering in his eyes.

“She's a friend of mine.”

“But you've never mentioned her.” JJ points out, putting down her own phone so she can pay attention to me. “What's her name?”

“Rowan.” Derek answers before I can. “No last name.”

“Where did you meet her?” Emily asks with a sly smile.

“Bookstore.”

“That checks out.” She nods, returning her attention to the file she was reading.

“It does, but you didn't tell us.” Derek says, one of his eyebrows raised.

“You haven't asked.”

“We're asking now and you aren't telling us.”

Such a good point, really. But I've got nothing to say, we mostly speak through texts and sometimes through calls if she needs help understanding something. Our little book club plans are always interrupted by a new case.

And they didn't need to know every detail, like how we had plans to go house hunting.

Plans that should happen any time soon, since she already sold her house.

“She needed help finding a book and I was there to help, that's all.”

But was that all?

We've met in person only two times, the first one at the bookstore and the second one at the park, a, and while our agreement was mostly about the books we’ve started talking about other things.

Like movies and plans for the future. Never the past or, Godd forbid, our jobs.

Under normal circumstances, I would've never approached a girl this pretty out of nowhere. I don't have the best memories with girls who look like that, they were always mean to me and didn't even try to hide their distaste for my weirdness.

But she's just so easy to be around.

And I was right the first time we met, she hides from the attention and gets nervous if someone looks too much in her direction. Sometimes she even mirrors my reactions at public settings where too many people are gathered.

“Ok, team. Let's review the case one last time before we give them the profile.” Hotch tells us, making everyone leave what they were doing to focus on it.

It looks fairly simple, the unsub is a sadist who wants to inflict as much pain on his victims while they're alive. After they're dead, though, he tries to pose them as angels.

We've had cases like this before, but I'm not seeing similarities between the victims.

Apart from the curly hair and full cheeks all of them had.

“A woman hurt them, probably one with big curls like this and fuller cheeks. Those can be associated with young women mostly, as we grow out of juvenile features.”

“Checks out, the victims aren't older than twenty five, all of them looked like teenagers.” JJ agrees, pointing at the women in the photos.

They really look a lot like Rowan. The fact makes me shiver inside.

“They embrace their natural hair too, none of them was a fan of straightening it.” Emily adds, showing us pictures Garcia got from their Facebooks.

“But all of them had their hair cut after they were killed.” I mumbled, pulling the photos from the crime scenes out of the files. “None of the victims were indigenous, or from any other culture that values hair.”

It's getting personal to him now. And the days between each victim's death is only getting shorter.

“It's the unsub working alone?” Derek asks, showing us one of the most recent autopsy reports.

The wounds were caused by two people, there is the most gruesome and then there's some that look like scratches.

“The force of the little ones doesn't match up with a man, or a woman for that matter. They're too… soft?”

The realization comes to me slowly, but I don't dare say it.

Part of me wants to believe that if I don't say it, it isn't true. But by the look on JJ’s face, I can tell she came to the same conclusion.

“A child did those.”

The team nods solemnly, wanting to get inside this unsub’s mind.

That's our job, but it never gets easier.

My mind reels through all the possible theories I can come up with, keeping in mind the other times where we had a child involved in crimes.

Children being exposed to serial killers, being taught by them, isn't something new but no one wants to be the first to put the theory out there.

*·˚ ༘ ➳

Coming here alone was a mistake, I should've just stayed at that lady's office instead of coming back home, I know that now.

But it's too late to go back, he already saw me.

“What do you think you’re doing, fucking slut?!”

I shut my eyes close, waiting for his hand to make contact with my cheek.
When it doesn’t, I open my eyes again.

He’s smirking, knowing he has me under his control again, I can’t escape.

The thought of it happening all over again has me swallowing back my own vomit, he’ll just get more aggressive if I don’t behave the way he wants me to.

“Please, stop…” I plead, making myself smaller, cowering from his touch.

He grabs my arm with a firm hand, his fingers probably will leave behind a few bruises, ones to match my beaten up soul.

“Oh, Annie, why do you insist on making this difficult?” He asks with a mean smirk.

“Let me go!”

“You are the one coming to my house!” He shakes my body, screaming close to my face.

“I want to visit my sister!”

“Stop lying, you want this!”

“I don’t!”

Finally I take my arm from his grip. I start backing away, he becomes predatory, his feet are slow but his movements are calculated.

He enjoys it the most when I try to run, he likes the chase. He likes having a reason to get violent, to subdue me and remind me who I am, what he has done to me.

This time, though, I don’t run to my closet to hide. Instead I head for the kitchen, maybe the only place in this house where he hasn’t ruined my good memories.

Here I share breakfasts and dinners with my siblings, here I’m allowed to be a child.

My little legs are shaky when I finally get the knife in my hands, I’ve got a tight grip on it, fearing it’ll slip out of my reach and I’ll be left completely defenceless once again.

Mason doesn’t look worried, his smirk doesn’t waver. If anything, he looks mockingly at me before taking a few steps forward.

He gets closer.

“Annie, what are you doing? Silly girl.”

“Leave me alone!” I screech, holding the knife in front of me as a promise.

“What will your sister say, huh? Or your brother? He will be so scared of you..:”

Maybe, but they’ll never have to fear this monster in front of me.

I’ll make sure of that.

Without thinking, I charge at him.

We fall, the knife thrusts itself on his chest, I’m met with the tiniest resistance before nothing but the handle is outside of his skin. It isn’t a deep wound, as the knife wasn’t the biggest one, but the expression on his face gives me the motivation to do it again.

And again.

And again.

I can’t even think, this feels like a dream.

The blood keeps splattering all over us, he tries to cover his wounds with trembling hands, but he doesn’t push me away or even tries to stop me. I stab his hands too, they get in the way.

The easiest part to stab are his genitals, even if the knife collides against his bones, it doesn’t matter.

My arms feel numb.

I can’t stop the tears from spilling out.

He isn’t smiling now. No, he looks at himself with nothing but horror, face paling until his eyes roll back and close.

The kitchen floor is red.

My hands are red.

His whole body is nothing but a red mass.

I’m free.
I’m free, I repeat to myself as I lower the knife one last time, cutting his neck effectively.

No one will have to fear him now, my siblings will be safe, his kids will be safe. No one will miss this monster.

A hard slap knocks me to the ground, where I feel the red liquid covering my skin once again.

Lukewarm, almost comforting.

“What did you do?!”

I recognize her voice, as scratchy and worn down it is.

My eyes can't quite make out the details, though, but I can recognize her figure kneeling down next to his body.

“Honey, wake up! Please!” She shouts, shaking the unconscious body. “Don't leave me! I'm pregnant, honey! We're having a baby!”

Bile suddenly makes its way to my mouth.

She doesn't pay attention when I empty my stomach next to the monster's feet.

Somehow once I'm done throwing up, my senses come back more clearly and I can hear everything.

I can see everything.

I killed a man believing him to be a monster, I left three children without a father and my sister is now a widower.

“I'm sorry…”

Her watery eyes leave his body for a minute, taking the sight of me in. She wipes her tears easily, hands leaving her face stained with red.

When she comes closer to me I cower, fearing another slap, but instead she cradles me to her chest.

“He was an asshole, it's ok, he won't do anything anymore.” She mumbles into my hair, I feel her tears landing on me. “Let's call 911, and then he can apologize once he's out of the hospital.”

I frown once she leaves my side, her hands tremble as she dials the numbers. I can see her arms are covered in bruises now, they weren't like that last time I saw her.

Feeling guilty, I return my eyes to the man.

I'm not a doctor, but I can tell the life has left his body and there's nothing left to do.

The paramedics tell her the same, but before she can react I'm being ushered away from the scene.

As I leave the room, the sun reflecting on the knife laying on the ground mocks me.

Chapter Text

Nova wags her tail happily, Lily gives her a light pet as she walks up to us.

“Rowan, I overslept, I'm so sorry.” She says with a sad smile. I shrug at her and give her a hug. “It's this everything?”

“Yeah, I was waiting for Philip to pick them up but he never showed up.” I tell her, she frowns and looks behind her, at her mother's house. “It's ok, he doesn't have any obligations to me now, I just thought he would want to do it.”

“No, you're right, he told me last week that he would be the one to bring my things over.” Her tone is confused and I feel bad for her, two father figures out of her life just like that. “Maybe he's ashamed.”

“For what?” I ask her, and watch her cheeks turn pink.

“He talked shit about your sister… I don't think he ever forgave her for ruining thanksgiving.” She says softly, and I can tell she doesn't want to hurt my feelings.

“It's ok, she never got along with any of you, couldn't accept my new family I guess…”

“Hey! Lily didn't say you were here!” Theo interrupts, jogging over to us. “Mom is seething over the two of you bonding, why isn't Philip here?”

“He went MIA.” Lily tells him with a shrug, Theo frowns. “I was going to get you anyway, look at the size of those boxes.”

“What is inside of them anyway? I thought you were keeping everything?”

“Books, files and many other things your father kept in his office.” I say, pointing at the boxes. “I also found some of your things in the attic and that one has all the jewelry your dad ever gifted me.”

“You're not keeping any of it?” Lily asks, and her eyes get sadder when I shake my head. “I know things were rough this past year, but you loved him a lot…”

“Yeah, I would've thought dad's name was ‘Honey’ instead of Adam.”

The nickname brings a shiver to my spine.

I give them a sad smile, shrugging away the feeling that is threatening to overcome me.

That awful night he died keeps coming to me in dreams, the way he snarked and shouted at me before he left and the way “Honey” tasted bitter instead of sweet when I screamed at him.

His fingers were sticky when he grabbed me and pushed me out of his way.

“He would've wanted you two to have everything, though. I know he was kind of an asshole but he loved you two with all his heart.”

“Yeah, that's why he wanted to replace us.” Theo snarks, the cynical tone getting drowned by the grief in his eyes.

They are so alike, truly his father's son.

“Don't say that, you don't think the same about mom's kids.” Lily scolds, pushing him aside so she can grab one of the smallest boxes.

I give Theo a small hug and the two of us start helping Lily with the rest of the boxes. Doing a quick job of getting everything just next to the door, where they would take them inside once I leave.

Nova follows the three of us from the door to the car and then again, at least she'll burn off some energy.

Once we're done, the twins hug me in gratitude.

“If Philip reaches out, tell him to contact me, ok? We didn't get to sign any contracts.”

“Yeah, ok.” Theo agrees easily.

“Will we ever see you again?” Lily asks shyly, holding my arm.

“Sure.” I lie, smiling at her when I reach out for the last hug. “We're still family, right?”

Both of them nod, but the look they give each other tells me everything I need to know. This is it.

I wave to them as I walk back to my car.

Nova gets in the passenger seat and I wait before getting in and starting the vehicle.

Feelings pour out of my eyes and I wipe them away as fast as I can, those kids aren't mine and I don't deserve the life I had before.

The start of my new life awaits me.

And when my phone starts ringing as soon as I arrive at the hotel, I can tell this new life is so much better already.

I answer the phone and turn off my heart.

“Hello! How's everything going?” Spencer chirps.

“Good, actually. I already set a date with seven realtors for this weekend.” I tell him, hearing a happy sound from his side of the line. “Do you think you'll be able to be there?”

“I think we're close to wrapping all this up, so I should be able to make it.” He says. “Seven houses for this weekend then? Where should we meet?”

“At my hotel, I'll send you the address that day and we can go from here.” I plan, getting out of the car and waiting for Nova to do the same.

“Ok. Are you excited? I haven't moved since I came to D.C.”

“I'm mostly just over this whole thing, I hate hotels. Where are you from, Spencer? I don't think you ever told me.”

“Las Vegas.”

“Oh my God.”

“But I moved out really young.” He explains, voice laced with something that sounds like amusement.

“You're really good at playing games, aren't you?” I ask with a smile, imagining him playing poker and winning.

He's also a psychologist, that has to be an advantage on his side.

“I am.” He admits. “I could be a billionaire now if I decided to spend all my time at the casino.”

“What's stopping you then?”

“I'm banned from most of them…”

“What?!” I shout with an incredulous smile, covering my mouth when people turn to look at me with annoyance. “Oh, you're crazy good then. We should get you a fake identity and go to town.”

“That's illegal.” He reminds me and I giggle nervously. “But I also can't imagine you at the casino, have you ever been?”

“Not really.” I shrug, then remember he can't see me. “But I am very good at poker, that's like the only card game I know.”

He laughs on the other side of the line.

“You're very expressive with your face, though.”

Am I?

My family always said I was rather stoic, especially after my parents died, nothing could bring a smile out of me. This is news to me, maybe I’ve gotten better with time after all.

A part of me can’t help but feel nervous at the prospect, if I’m an open book, how will I protect myself?

“You too! Guess we’ll have to play sometime, so we can see how good we really are.”

“Let’s add a night of board games to our little book club.” Spencer offers, and I can hear the excitement through the line. “I promise I will let you win sometimes.”

“I don’t need you to let me do anything, I’m really good at board games!” I defend myself, Spencer laughs. “Really! I always win at monopoly and twister!”

“Is twister even a board game?”

“Well, it depends on your definition of board game.” I shrug, trying to think of any other board game. “We will play twister, though, it’s so fun…”

“I don’t know…” He says quietly, a smirk makes its way to my lips.

“Are you bad at it?”

“Yes.” He replies, and I stifle a laugh at his serious tone.

“I would have thought that those long limbs of yours would be an advantage.” I tease, and I hear him letting out a breathy laugh. “Are you not flexible enough?”

“How about Clue?” He asks, changing the topic swiftly.

“Clue it’s fun, I guess. I like Jenga too.” I muse, then an idea comes to me. “You look like the kind of guy who enjoys Scrabble.”

“I do enjoy it! And I’m pretty good at it.” He gets quiet for a second. “I don’t even care if it was supposed to be a mean assumption, I do really like Scrabble.”

“I wasn’t trying to be mean at all.” I say softly, a weird feeling on my stomach at the thought of him feeling bad. “It’s just that you know a lot of words, you’re probably good at Categories too.”

“Yes! I played it with my mom all the time! I actually haven’t played in a long time.”

“Well that’s one game that we can play over the phone.” I offer with a smile, wanting to hear his excitement again. “But how will I know if you’re cheating?”

“I don’t have any reason to.” He says offhandedly, and I can practically see him shrugging. “You don’t stand a chance.”

“Try me!”

*·˚ ༘ ➳ ♡

I look up from my book to see Rowan walking towards me with a big smile.

“Did I make you wait too much?” She asks, helping me get up from the chair.

“Not at all, I just like to be early.”

“Right, if you're on time, then you're late.”

“Yes! you get it.”

“My father used to say that. He was a doctor so he needed to be extra early everyday.” She explains, starting to walk towards the hotel door.

I follow her, waving at the people who wave at us and wish us a good day.

They all seem to know her.

“A doctor?” I ask with interest. Since she told me her parents were dead, the topic of families hadn't come up.

“General surgeon.”

“That's amazing, you didn't follow his steps?”

“Oh, no! I can't work knowing people's lives depend on me… Did you follow your parents steps?”

“Kind of. My mom was a scholar and my dad a lawyer.”

She nods, walking towards a range rover and getting inside of it. When she notices I'm not getting in, she lowers the window and frowns at me.

“Why are you standing there like a fool?”

“Whose car is this?”

“Mine! Get in!”

I follow her order, scrambling to put on the seatbelt before she starts driving.

The car smells of lavender, and the soft music coming from the speakers let me know Rowan was telling the truth.

She hums along the melodies, and keeps her eyes on the road.

Nothing about this is what I imagined her to be.

How could I have read her so wrong?

“Sorry that I couldn't help you before, I had to travel for work and then everything got complicated.” I offer as an explanation, not willing to share anything about the case.

“You don't need to worry about that, Spencer. In fact, I wouldn't have blamed you if you skipped this day too. Aren't you tired?”

I nod immediately, making her laugh. “I got four hours of sleep.”

She looks at me with her mouth open, giving me a view of childlike wonder in her expression.

It's beautiful.

I've come to realize everything about her is beautiful, though, so maybe I'm biased.

“Spencer, you need to rest!”

“I know! But I wanted to help you find your forever home.”

Her playful expression gets erased. I see her getting tense before she lets out a sight and finds her smile again.

“That's so sweet of you.”

It sounds strained.

I really am at a loss with her. Through texts it is harder to notice those small changes in her behavior, I only notice them when she takes too long to answer.

But now, looking at her, it is so obvious she has small triggers. Words or actions that seem to make her malfunction for a second. The word ‘home’ seems to do it for her.

“Of course, I can't wait for the moment of realization. That second when you realize you're safe and comfortable.”

I'm pushing it now, and it makes me feel bad to see her cringe at the words and put on a fake smile.

“Yeah, that's what a house has to feel like.” She agrees, pursing her lips after a failed smile.

“Have you tried looking for apartments?” I ask, finally deciding to ease her mind instead of stressing her.

“No… I would, but that wouldn't be fair to my daughter.”

Her dog, Nova.

“Right. Is she behaving?”

“Not really.” She sighs, this time smiling sincerely. “I have no pillows left and the rug is being chewed on as we speak.”

“It's a good thing the staff seems to like you.”

“They liked Adam, not me.” She frowns, then looks at me with wide eyes. “My late husband, that's his name.”

“Was he a regular there…?”

“The owner.” She replies, a bitter tone escapes her. “He was a good boss.”

But was he a good husband? It doesn't look like it.

“How did he…?”

She looks at me weirdly, then puts on a sad smile and looks at the traffic light.

I'm almost sure I saw a glint of darkness in those beautiful hazel eyes.

“He… had an accident. You know, a drunk driver didn't see him…”

“Oh… That's-”

“Maybe he would've been fine if he got home on time instead of driving around with his mistress.”

“I'm sorry.” It's the only thing I can say. And she looks like she doesn't care, anyways, so maybe asking about it was a waste of time. Although this reaction is a stark contrast from the first time we met and I asked about her wedding ring.

“Don't be. Curiosity killed the cat, but the cat died knowing.”

“Right.”

I stay silent until the first house finally comes into view, then we get out and the realtor greets us with a big, pompous smile.

We follow her around, listening to her ramble about the architecture and design. Overall, the house is pretty simple, but it's way too big for one person.

It doesn't look like it's particularly safe, it has the type of windows that break easily and the knobs look like a burglar's wet dream. When Rowan asks me what I think about it, I tell her exactly that and add just how much emergency responders would take getting here.

She nods at me with bright eyes, and I can’t help my heart from melting when she tells the realtor this isn’t what she’s looking for. She values my opinion in something as important as this, even if we just met recently and…

I’m getting ahead of myself.

The second and third house are fairly similar. And I can start noticing Rowan's taste through them, she lists the things she likes and the things she thinks are missing.

By the sixth house she looks exhausted and completely opposed to keep looking.

Even then, she looks beautiful.

“I think I'm going to rent for the time being…” She tells me once we are back in her car, driving towards my house. “Nova needs the space to run and I'm not fond of people randomly cleaning my mess.”

“That’s a good option, yes.”

“I'm going to talk with a friend of my sister, I think I saw he was renting a place on Facebook.”

“Are you sure it's safe? I can give him a background check if you want.”

“What are you? A fed?” She jokes, laughing while shaking her head.

I force a laugh out, copying her mannerism.

“I'm just saying!”

*·˚ ༘ ➳ ♡

I should probably get rid of many of those things that have been tucked away in the boxes, a couple of days ago I considered them valuable enough to keep but now they're just hindering me.

Going though the boxes now seems like a bad idea, though, so I'll do it once I'm done moving in. Said boxes are safely tucked away in my hotel room anyways, no use in worrying about them.

“It needs renovation, but I don't think you'll be needing a second bedroom anyway.”

“Not really.” I agree with him, shrugging with an easy smile. “Unless Joseph stays over.”

“He can sleep on the couch.”

“I don't have a couch.” I remind him, he rolls his eyes. “Or a bed, now that I think about it.”

“Guess we're going shopping. I'll call your mom to let her know.”

I nod absentmindedly, knowing we'll fight over who gets to pay for the furniture. In the end I'll convince him to let me do it, Adam's favorite employee isn't here to judge me for the money I choose to spend.

His conversation with mom is short, and I can hear her lighthearted voice as a murmur.

Both of them are pretending I didn't fuck up, they don't have time to freak out and I know they don't want me to feel bad.

But I'm perceptive with them, always have been, and they are disappointed by my decisions.

Although a bit happy of my new widower status, dad could barely stand to be present at the wedding.

My phone chimes and I look at it quickly, knowing exactly who it is.

Spencer: I'm so sorry I couldn't go with you today! I'm almost done at work though, do you have any appointments tomorrow?

Me: I actually chose a house already, it's small and it needs love but the rent isn't high and Nova will have a lot of space to run.

Spencer: Awesome! Guess we won't be seeing each other :(

Me: I might need help moving in…

Spencer: Count me in!

Me: :)

When I look back up from my phone, dad is staring at me with a serious face.

“A friend.” I explain lamely, his expression doesn't change.

“You don't have any friends.”

“Rude.” I gasp, then match his expression. “He's truly just a friend, Alfred.”

“I hope so.” He replies, tone hard. “Thomas was a friend too.”

“No, he wasn't.” I say quickly, defensive. “We started dating right away, he wasn't ever a friend.”

“You aren't the best at picking men, I worry.” He explains, and the fight leaves his eyes to change places with the sheer exhaustion he always tries to hide. “If he's really a friend, it's your first one, congratulations.”

“He's helping me move in, actually. You two can meet and…”

I bite my tongue, remembering just how special Spencer is.

“What? What's wrong?”

“I told him my parents are dead, though.” I confess, his brows furrow and I can see he's at a loss of words. “I- It's ok, I'll just tell him you're the tenant and…”

“Can't you just tell him the truth?” He asks, shrugging.

I can, technically, but I don't want to.

He already knows way too much about me, I can keep this to myself and it wouldn't change a thing.

“Too complicated.”

Dad nods, knowing I won't change my stance on this topic.

“Well, he'll be helping you with the boxes. But we can build the furniture, right? A little family time?”

“Yeah! Absolutely, maybe we can pick Joseph from school and tell Nadia to come over too!”

“I love that. Now let's go, baby A, we have to buy a lot of things!” He exclaims, his body moving eagerly towards the front door.

“Shouldn't we make a list?” I ask, following him with a smile.

“Boring.”

Spencer would probably make a list, he looks like the kind of guy who wouldn't want to forget anything or waste time.

Dad is more keen to go aisle by aisle, sometimes forgetting to buy things and having to make multiple trips.

I don't know where I stand on that, I'll probably remember the most urgent things and forget about the rest. And if I make a list, it probably would be incomplete.

The trip to the nearest store is calm, we let the music fill the silence.

This is the life my brother had, completely opposite to mine, and I try to feel at ease but I can't help my brain from going haywire trying to find anything to discuss.

Life isn't exciting lately and I've been seeing dad a lot lately, I don't have anything new to share.

Except Spencer.

I've purposefully tried to keep him a secret from my family, they'll just worry. But now dad knows about him, and if dad knows it's only a matter of time before mom knows too.

So when we park and get out of the car, I interlock my arm with his and lean on his shoulder.

“I've wanted to ask, can you ask Nadia to bring some boardgames from home?”

“Huh? Sure, but you hate playing with us.” He reminds me, with a slightly confused tone.

“I don't! It's just frustrating sometimes because you take way too long understanding the game or when it's your turn!”

“See? I don't get why you want to play now.”

I huff, feeling my hands getting clammy.

“Spencer and I talked about boardgames and we decided to play some, after our little book club.” I tell him, his brows furrow but he nods slowly. “He's really smart.”

“Not your type, then.” He says, then laughs at his own joke while I roll my eyes.

“Whatever, grab a cart!”

I push him towards the direction of the shopping carts and he goes quickly, coming back with a dumb smile.

As we walk through the aisles, he jokes around and tries to get more information on Spencer. His curiosity only grows when I take the time to text said man back, barely containing my smile at his random facts or quirky updates from his day.

We manage to buy the essentials without breaking into a fight for who gets to pay, I only have to compromise on letting him pay for dinner tonight and not paying rent for the first year.

It's almost laughable, he knows I won't stay the whole year, I never do.

“Okie dokie, the fridge should be delivered tomorrow along with the washing machine.” Dad tells me, waving a goodbye at the employee that helped us load dad's vehicle.

“That's fine with me, are we picking up Joseph or going to your house first?” I ask him, putting the seatbelt on.

He looks at his watch and makes a face.

“Home. We ran late, Joseph should be there already.” He informs me, and when I look at my phone I realize we were inside that store for three whole hours.

He starts the car quickly and starts to drive away from the parking lot with a velocity that startles me enough to make me check if the furniture is still in the back of the truck.

“If we get pulled over, Nadia is going to be so mad.” I mumble, dad laughs but slows down and I allow myself to let our an exaggerated breath. “Almost died.”

“You're so dramatic, just like your mom was.”

My brain struggles to figure out who is he talking about, but in the end I conclude he's talking about the real thing. The woman I can barely remember and yet I miss every day.

I don't remember her being dramatic at all, so maybe my memory is wrong, but I do remember feeling safe and content with her, like a laugh was always stuck in my throat.

That's what defines family to me, and it's exactly the reason I call Joseph's parents my own, even if no one knows I do.

“You're just a madman when it comes to driving, who are you? Toretto?”

“You haven't even seen the movies!” He accuses, slightly offended. “Or did you? Let me guess, was it with Spencer?”

A squeaky laughs breaks out of me and I cover my mouth, the thought is almost ridiculous. Spencer surely wouldn't like that kind of movie, and I can't get passed dad's childishness.

“With Theo and Lily, actually.” I tell him after I calmed down. “They convinced me to do a marathon.”

“You always indulged those kids way too much.”

“They lost their father in the most horrific way, didn't even get to say goodbye or look at him for the last time.” My voice becomes shaky, he shoots me a look.

After a second of silence, he sighs and his hand touches my thigh, firmly yet caring.

“You lost someone too, even if he was an asshole, I'm not judging you for missing him.”

I don't miss him, though, it's just the guilt eating me alive.

I could've stopped this ages ago, but I let him do as he pleased until he found his death. And now there are kids without a father, a girl traumatized and two graves weighing me down.

“You hated him.”

“I hate everyone.” He corrects, I snort. “Hell, I even hate that Spencer guy, and I haven't met him. It's just… no one is good enough for you, baby A, I wish I could just hide you away.”

“You say that to every daughter.” I tease, and he smiles softly.

Some men were born to be dads, and Alfred it's one of those.

“You're my first, though. And I do know you since you were a little baby, so it makes it all the more special.”

I try not to tear up at that, but I have to turn away and look outside the window to hide from him.

“Whatever.”

*·˚ ༘ ➳ ♡

I carry the boxes with fake strength, and just as soon as Rowan is out of sight I let myself rest the weight of them on the walls and furniture.

The girl didn't have much, but whatever she had in the boxes was heavier than I am used to.

Since I'm resting, I take the time to look around. The place looks old, but taken care of.

And the man who hugged Rowan when we got out of her car seems amicable too, definitely the proud owner of this house and much nicer than my own tenant.

“Can you take those to the kitchen, Spencer?” Rowan asks when she appears from the door next to the bathroom, and I can hear she's just as breathless as I am.

I nod, but I want to grunt and refuse.

At least the house is small and I don't have to take anything upstairs.

There isn't an upstairs.

Rowan's dog runs into the kitchen, barking at me before sitting down.

I don't know what that means.

“What do you want, girl? A toy?”

She just looks at me, unimpressed, then barks again and runs off the room.

Just in time for her owner to enter.

She smiles lazily at me, setting down a box full of cleaning products.

“I had forgotten how much I hated moving.”

“Did you move often?” I ask, trying to keep my curiosity at bay so she doesn't notice it.

“Yes, since my parents died I've never lived in the same place for more than a year.” She explains casually, with the lighthearted tone of someone who has already moved on. “Did you?”

“Not really, but work makes me fly all around the country and it feels like the same thing.”

I try to keep it simple, since we have yet to talk about our jobs. I'm not in a rush at all, getting to know this girl slowly has been the highlight of the past two months.

“Alfred is leaving in a couple minutes, if you want to stay for dinner we could order takeout.” She offers with a smile, and I just have to nod.

True to her words, Alfred says his goodbyes six minutes later and makes Rowan promise to call if she needs anything.

He looks like a fatherly figure, and he makes sure to make it known by giving me a stern squeeze on the shoulder and a fake smile before he leaves.

Rowan smiles devilishly before pulling a bottle of wine out from a box, it looks like the ones Rossi has tucked away for special occasions, the same ones Garcia and Morgan like to ransack.

“What is that for?”

“Celebration!” She says as if it's obvious.

And she doesn't wait before getting out two glasses, where she pours graciously until I squeak for her to stop.

I try to drink slowly, only to notice her almost gulping the first glass in one go. Wouldn't it be bad for me to only drink one glass while she downs the bottle? I can't let her do that.

So I do try to match her drinking, only realizing my mistake when I've finished the second glass and I'm already feeling tipsy.

She doesn't look affected at all, so she pours again and I can't find it in myself to stop her.

“Have you bought groceries yet?” I ask Rowan, who has started to put away the cutlery.

“Oh, shit! I completely forgot! We'll have to order something, do you like Chinese food?” She asks, turning around to look for her phone.

“I do, but I'm awful at eating with chopsticks.” I admit, wanting to get it out before she notices while we eat.

“Me too!” She says with a smile. “I can eat sushi with chopsticks but anything else it's just a lost cause.”

I listen to her as she tells me some funny stories of her getting frustrated at the chopsticks and how embarrassed she was to eat at Chinese restaurants for a while, then I share my own anecdotes and we laugh about it, deciding we're right about our opinions on them.

Rowan dials a phone number and gives them our order, and while we wait we take our time to put away the books she brought with her from her old home.

One certain book grabs my attention, as I notice it's one of limited edition.

“You have The Odyssey but not The Iliad.” I notice, and she looks at me with a confused frown. “Matter of fact, you don't even have The Aeneid. Did you read it as a stand alone?”

She gets closer and takes the book from me, opening it and reading something before handing it back to me.

“My parents gifted it to me on my tenth birthday.” Her finger points at the writing on the first page.

With love to our precious little girl, for you to remember that you can always come back home and we'll be waiting for you. R&A.

Oh.

“I guess it makes sense with the story, have you read it?”

She shrugs. “Hadn’t seen that book since I moved in with Adam, maybe I read it when they first gifted it to me but I can't remember.”

“But you know the story, right?” I ask again, because it's part of the classic literature that everyone should know.

“The basics, yeah.” She answers, looking at me with a raised eyebrow.

Before she can say anything else, someone knocks on the door and she goes to answer.

When she comes back holding two bags of food, I leave the box of books and go to help her. We choose to settle down on the couch, with Nova whining while laying down on my feet.

“She's giving me puppy eyes.” I complain to Rowan, who just laughs and gives her dog a knowing look while pouring us the fifth glass of wine.

“Don't you dare, Spencie. She'll get a tummy ache.”

And wow.

Spencie.

“We're on nicknames basis now?” I joke, noticing the way she blushes. “What should I call you then? Ronnie? Annie?”

She tenses suddenly. Dropping the fork she was holding.

Another trigger, then.

This one is stronger than the other ones.

“Don't… I don't like that nickname…” She mumbles, reaching the fork but setting it aside with the food, as if she suddenly wasn't hungry anymore.

She only ate half of the meal, and I know by a fact she hasn't eaten anything since we shared brunch before starting to bring her belongings here.

“I'll make a new one, then.” I tell her, trying to ease her. “Ro? That sounds cute.”

She looks at me with cheeks flushed and eyes glassy.

But I can't figure out why.

“My parents called me Ro when I was younger…” She explains softly, probably noticing my confusion.

“Cute, it fits you.”

And now I'm blushing and she's smiling.

But who cares.

We keep on talking about the moving and she listens to me ramble about the books I read since the last time we saw each other.

She looks comfortable in her shorts and sweatshirt, her hair has gotten curlier than it was this morning when we started carrying her things out of the hotel.

And she looks beautiful.

No one has left my brain blank like Rowan does, she just makes the noise disappear.

And definitely makes my tongue looser.

“You're really pretty, have you tried modeling?” I blurt out in between whatever I was talking about.

“What does that have to do with the scientific inconsistencies in Marvel movies?” She asks, covering her laugh with her hand.

Right, that's what I was rambling about.

“I don't know, you distract me a lot. But do answer me, have you given modeling a try?”

“I haven't.”

“Why?”

“I don't want strangers to see me.”

That much I figured when I first met her.

“I think everyone notices you, regardless of how much you try to hide.”

She smiles at the ground and shakes her head softly, drinking a sip of wine. It taints her lips so beautifully.

Beautiful seems to be the only word in my head whenever I'm around this girl.

And as she scratches her dog, I can see the smallest glimpse of her underwear, which makes me turn my head to the opposite side.

The wine is making me feel warm all over.

“Spencie, do you want to stay? It's late…” I nod dumbly, my eyes finding their way to hers. “You can go to the room, it's already set up.”

“No, no. You stay in your room and I'll stay here on the couch.”

“Are you sure? It isn't that comfortable…”

“Or we can share… no! wait, forget I said that.”

She laughs softly, offering her hand.

I take it without thinking, and I don't have time to cringe before I'm being pulled up and in the direction of the bedroom.

I've had bad ideas before, but following her here might just be the worst one.

“Make yourself comfortable, I'll be in the bathroom.”

Again, I nod dumbly and watch her until the door closes.

We drank a whole bottle just the two of us.

I let my body fall into the bed, where I try to get comfortable. Only a couple of seconds later, Nova's familiar weight is at my feet.

At least I can trust the dog to be our chaperone.

I hear Ro before I see her, her laugh reaches my ears and when I look up at her she's taking a picture.

Of Nova and me.

“You two look perfect, a match made in heaven.”

She finally settles down next to me, and I can confirm this was a bad idea.

Praying for sleep to come to me fast, I look at her breathing and see the way her lips curl into a smile when she notices my staring.

She doesn't make any attempt at looking back at me, instead her eyes close. I will myself to do the same but when my eyes are finally closing, a phone ringing wakes me up again.

It's mine.

I pick it up, trying not to move too much in case Ro can sleep through it, but when I look at her she's already staring at me with eyes wide open.

“Hello?”

“Reid, there's a case. I need you in Quantico by six am.”

The clock marks three o'clock.

“I'm not… I don't think I can, Hotch.”

There's silence on the other side of the line.

“Are you drunk?”

Or high? Goes unsaid, but I can feel his concern.

“Yes, kind of… I can… I'll take a plane, ok? If you really need me…”

“What plane, Reid? I need you in Quantico as soon as you can.”

“Sure, goodnight.”

Hotch hangs up without saying goodbye, but I'm too tired to care.

“Work?” Ro asks softly, laying on her side so she can look at me better.

“Yes.”

“Sorry I got you drunk.”

“I'm not drunk! But I'm not sober either.” I defend myself, but the lie tastes bitter on my tongue.

“Maybe you should take a cold shower…” She teases while turning to lay on her side, and her hand sneakily finds my arm.

She's cold, so I cover her hand with my own and watch her appreciative smile.

“I'm sure I can sleep it off.”

“Mhmm, I'll set the alarm. You have to sleep at least two hours, ok?”

“Ok.” I nod, feeling almost enchanted by her tone and the way her eyes are so determined, almost controlling.

It sends a shiver down my spine.

Her eyebrow arches expectant and I take it as a sign to close my eyes again.

The next time I wake up, it's not because of my phone ringing or alarms going off. Instead it's Rowan's soft touch and her voice constantly calling out my name.

My gaze falls on her and she gives me an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, I know you're tired but you have to leave now…” She mumbles, and a small yawn escapes her lips. “There's a towel on the sink for you.”

Just this sight is enough to make me want to stay by her side. I can't do that, though, knowing Aaron and the team are waiting for me.

So I get out of bed and drag myself to the bathroom, taking a quick shower and then putting on the same clothes I wore yesterday. Hopefully I'll have enough time to change into the clothes I have on my go bag.

When I get out of the bathroom, my eyes land on Ro sleeping peacefully on the bed. Feeling guilty for making her wake up so early, I try myself to move through the room without waking Ro up, and she stirs a little but continues on snoring softly.

Nova follows me around the house, watching with bored eyes every movement I make.

Before getting out of the house I write a note for Rowan and fix Nova a plate of food, knowing her owner probably will wake up later than she's used to.

I let myself out and take public transportation until I arrive at Quantico. It's not my usual time and the secretary on the front desk looks surprised when I greet her.

That doesn't help my nerves as I ride the elevator, and I try to hide it when I see everyone is already in the conference room, and it looks like they've already gone through the first steps of the profile too.

I try to catch up to them without making it obvious that I haven't slept, but when the first break comes I’m stuck with Hotch in the room.

“Have you sobered up?”

“Mostly, yes.”

“You never did anything like this, this is more of a Morgan situation.”

“I know, Hotch, I'm sorry. But we're not on call so I thought I could… have fun?”

“Did you?”

“What?”

“Have fun?” He asks with a knowing smile, breaking his serious expression.

I blush under his eyes and nod softly.

“Yes, I did.”

“We're happy for you, Reid. Sorry I interrupted, though.”

I nod again, watching the man leave the room.

Now I can focus on the case. Or at least try.

Why would this arsonist go out of his way and set on fire a house instead of shops like he had before?

*·˚ ༘ ➳ ♡

I fucked up.

Not only is my headache an indication of it, but the way Spencer has been extra attentive on text.

And in person too, I guess, he did leave Nova a plate of food.

This really shouldn't be happening.

“Calm down, Ash. This is not the end of the world.” Mom says softly, while her husband curses. “And you too, Alfred, don't stress our girl out!”

“She bedded that guy!”

“I didn't bed anyone.”

“She shared a bed with him, and that's it. It's not like she told him all her secrets… Did you?”

“Of course not!”

“Then everything's alright and we just need to move on. Can we focus on the task at hand now? Please?”

“I don't have any Fs, Gs or Hs. The next one on the list is J, for Scarlet Jimenez. She wasn't horrible though, so maybe we could just call the cops on her? To see if any other kids have been hurt and all that…”

“Whatever you need us to do, baby A. Do you know where she lives?”

“She used to live in Florida… But I don't want to go back there.”

“You know how dangerous it is for you to stay here, after everything that happened. But if you don't want to go back to Florida, I understand.”

“We'll handle it.” Mom nods, handing me my new ID and driver's license. “Well, Rowan Eaton…”

“I think I'll keep Adam's last name for a while. Is that ok?”

“You can do whatever you want, baby. Now go talk to Joseph before you leave, he’s been holding grudges lately…”

I nod at the woman and hug her, then hug her husband and make my way towards the teen.

My brother looks at me with curiosity, pausing his videogame to pay attention. He has grown up so much since we reconnected, and that was only two years ago when I got married to Adam.

Before that I only saw him on birthdays and maybe over the holidays. His growth spurts weren't as exaggerated back then.

“How's school?” I ask, trying to find any topic we could talk about.

“Boring, but I get good grades.” He answers just as awkwardly.

“You get that from me! Viv almost got held back three years in a row.”

Joseph laughs while nodding, he's a smart kid but I don't truly know what to say to him.

For the first four years of his life I was going through the loss of my parents and the horrible abuse, and the next seven I've spent running from one place to another trying to get revenge.

At least I got him out of it before anyone could hurt him.

Alfred and Nadia have been doing an amazing job at raising him, I notice by the way he's always polite and talkative even around strangers.

I was nothing like that.

“Viv asked about you.”

“So I've been told.”

“She tried tracking you, but nothing came up with your real name.” He continues, brows furrowed and eyes boring into mine.

“Well, it shouldn't, I've changed it many times.”

“I didn't even know your real name, everyone calls you Ash.”

“I don't believe in having a name.”

“Then why are you sticking with Rowan this time?”

The question takes me by surprise, because I realize I don't have an explanation for it.

Sure, it can be just because it's easier to respond to Rowan now that I've used it for years. But then, in the back of my mind, the real reason is nagging at me.

Spencer.

How could I explain it to him?

Joseph stares at me whilst waiting for an answer, and I realize the age he has now and, more importantly, where I was when I was that age.

So I choose to be honest.

“I met someone special, and I don't want them to know why I changed it.” I say softly, then see his face scrunch up in confusion. “But we can make it Rowan Ashley, then you can call me Ash too without it being weird.”

Joseph nods slowly, giving me a small smile. He is a smart kid, maybe one day he can help me too, but for now, I'd rather him staying in the dark.

In his mind I only change my name so my family doesn't find me, and that's not even half of it.

I curse my younger self for being reckless, there's not a day I don't mourn the girl whose name everyone has forgotten.

There's still a couple things I have to solve before allowing myself to rest without worrying about them coming back to bite me, though, so it'll be a long time until I can return to my family and enjoy life.

*·˚ ༘ ➳ ♡

I’m just tired.

My whole body is still bruised and sometimes moving too fast hurts in ways I cannot describe.

People look at me with pity, others look at me with disgust.

I can’t wrap my head around their reasoning, surely they don’t think I broke two ribs by myself?

Doesn’t matter now.

What does matter is the weight of dad’s service gun in my front pocket.

I stealth through the house, already knowing where he’ll be. After these past years we spent together, it would’ve been inconsequential of me not to remember all of his routines. I memorized them to make sure everything was ready for him when he got home.

I tried so hard to be a good wife, to please him…

And what did he give me in return?

A couple of broken bones and a concussion, physically. The hate of everyone who lives in this neighborhood and the people we went to church with, too.

Fuck him.

My legs don’t shake this time, I open the bathroom door slowly.

He’s almost falling asleep in the bath, just like I knew he would be. His movements are sluggish, he doesn’t even notice my presence until the barrel of the gun is snuggly pressed against his chin.

Just as his eyes open, startled, I pull the trigger.

His blood paints the tile behind him, a drop or two land on my arm.

The life leaves his eyes, body becoming rigid as I place the gun on his hand.

There’s no guilt, I saved other girls from going through what I went through with this abusive bastard. Something I should've done a while ago, this is partly my responsibility.

Goodbye, Thomas, rot in hell. And goodbye, Adelaide, you deserve to die just like him.

Chapter Text

My phone is ringing, but I can't get away from the crime scene to answer it, so I let its sound die, but it rings again. And then again, willing me to answer and starting to stress me out.

I walk a couple of steps away and finally take the call, it's not Hotch or JJ asking for progress on the other side, but -surprisingly- Rowan’s concerned voice.

“Spencer? Are you ok?”

“Hi! Yes, sorry, I got caught up at work.” I try to explain, starting to feel my cheeks burning in shame.

Shame of what exactly? I don’t even know.

Right now I just feel like I failed Ro by not texting her during the day like I always do. Maybe it triggered some sort of Pavlovian response in her and she’s feeling bad about my lack of communication too?

“Oh, I was worried you didn't… forget it.”

“I didn't what?” I ask with a smile. “Want to talk to you? because I was planning on stopping by tonight like we agreed on…”

“No, don't do that.”

Oh.

Now it's my turn to ask.

“Is everything ok?”

“Yes! I'm just having family over and there's not enough space in this house anyways.”

“Oh, ok.” I mumble into the phone, feeling my shoulders sag.

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah… I was just hoping we could finally play those boardgames…”

She sighs on the other side of the line, and I feel like I'm fucking up, maybe I should just sop talking altogether.

“Spencer-”

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to impose anything. We can reschedule later.” I say quickly, because she sounds honestly upset by this whole change of plans.

I am upset too, because I don’t like sudden changes, but I can understand this. And I’m almost grateful she called this early so I get a chance to look for something else to do by myself this evening.

“Of course, I’m looking forward to that round of Categories too, you know? And whatever game you want to play with cards.”

“Right. And now that we got that out of the way, did you say your family was there?” I ask, trying to change the topic towards things that are currently happening.

“Yes. My aunt and cousin.”

“That's so exciting, are they sharing a bed with you too?” I tease, remembering last week’s events.

Her laugh catches me by surprise.

“No, dummy, they brought an air mattress.” She says between stifled laughs.

“Maybe I should bring mine next time.”

“What makes you think there will be a next time?” She teases back, and I can practically see her smile and the way she bites her lip while she waits for a joke to land.

“Feeling lucky.” I quip easily, feeling my own lips start to curl upwards.

“I bet you are.”

The sudden movement behind me makes me turn around, finding Rossi's curious stare and shit eating grin.

“I have to leave now, Ro.” I say, almost stumbling over my words. “I’m at work now and my boss’ right hand is staring at me.”

“Oops, I hope I didn’t get you in too much trouble.” She says quickly. “Have a good day, Spencie, see you soon.”

Rossi walks around the scene, pretending not to care about the conversation I was having. His hands are behind his back and his stance is almost nonchalant as he waits for me to speak.

But I say nothing to him, just waiting for the question I know he's dying to ask.

“So… was that the same girl from the other morning?”

Knew it.

“Ro, yes.” I answer, because denying it will only make me look guilty.

“Bookstore girl?” He asks again, eyebrows raising slightly.

“Yes.”

The man hums, smiling at me like the cat who got the cream. He says nothing else, though, and that's a win for me.

I’m almost giddy at the prospect of Ro becoming a part of my life I can tell people about, she’s for sure the most interesting person I’ve met recently, even though I can’t say exactly why. It just feels correct, like it was bound to happen.

Usually I don’t put too much effort on making friendships outside of my usual circles of scholars or colleagues, I was clearly missing out.

My life would’ve continued to be so boring outside of work if it wasn’t for Rowan. I realize now that I’m thinking of what to do by myself when I get back home.

Rereading a book, I guess, or maybe watch that movie Rowan keeps making references to.
She's always talking about things I know nothing about, things JJ and Emily talk with Penelope too. I find myself perking up at words and names I hadn't before.

It's enchanting to hear her talk, and I think she feels the same way about me when I start ranting about things I learned in college. I can still see the way her eyes follow every movement I make and how she nods in understanding to encourage me to keep going.

I'm used to people getting bored by it, even my friends want me to shut up sometimes.

“Lunch break?” Rossi asks with a shrug, already burnt out from this place. “There's nothing we can do here anyways.”

“Yeah, should we get food for the rest too?” I ask, following his lead when he starts walking out of the property.

“I'll call them, they probably ate already.”

*·˚ ༘ ➳ ♡

I watch Nova run to her water bowl, laughing when she plows to the ground with an exaggerated sigh.

“C'mon girl, you can't be that tired.” I roll my eyes, lowering myself next to her so I can pet her. She huffs, tongue sticking out.

I laugh again, this time getting up and walking towards the bathroom. There's still time until Spencer arrives and I have to shower desperately.

My muscles burn in exhaustion, protesting that I'm just as tired as Nova is.

We got up before sunrise to go hiking, and we just got home now that the sky is getting an orange color.

The warm water feels like heaven when it hits my skin, washing away the dirtiness from my body. I have to grimace when I see the water turning into a dark brown color, with a hint of maroon, before going down the drain.

By the time I'm completely clean I realize too much time has passed, Spencer should be here in about twenty minutes.

So I throw the dirty clothes into the laundry basket, throwing a couple of other things to hide them.

I find the most comfortable clothes and put them on without a care, then I walk to the kitchen to get started on dinner. Nova barely pays attention to me, lifting her head when I walk past her before returning to a deep sleep.

The Bolognese sauce is almost ready when I hear three knocks, then Nova lazily walking towards the sound and whines instead of barking like she always does.

I open the door, feeling myself smile as I take Spencer in. He's standing quite awkwardly, but his face lights up once I move to greet him.

One fast kiss on the cheek and a heartfelt hug later, I move aside to let him in and watch him brace for impact.

He turns to me with a confused frown when Nova just pushes her head against his pants instead of jumping at him.

“Is she feeling ok?” He asks, voice laced with concern. His hand scratches Nova's head softly.

“Yeah! We just had a long day, sorry I couldn't send you photos, by the way.” I tell him, remembering the texts he sent. “I left my phone in the car and by the time I realized we had been walking like two hours already.”

“Don't worry about it, I was just worried something had happened to you.” He shrugs. “Did you have a good time?”

“Mhmm, I'm not a big fan of nature, to be honest, but it was ok.” I shrug back, starting to walk towards the kitchen and motioning him to follow me.

“Then why do you go hiking so much?” He asks, scrunching his face. “I don't like nature either, but I also don't go hiking every week.”

“Well, Nova needs the exercise. And so do I, really.”

“You don't.” He says in a beat, then flushes. I feel my face burning too, against my own will. “Sorry. But- you don't need exercise, you're already too skinny.”

“Oh, well. Not everyone exercises to be skinny. And you're one to talk!” I deflect to him, my tone teasing. “Do you even eat, Spencie?”

“I do! I eat a lot, actually.”

I hum, turning the stove off.

“Sure. Food is ready, eat then play?” I ask, grabbing two plates.

Spencer makes a noise of agreement and soon I feel him by my side, helping me by grabbing the cutlery and glasses.

Once we set everything down on the table, we sit next to each other.

“I have never eaten Bolognese like this.” He says with a frown, his fork moving the food around the plate as he tries to see every ingredient.

“Family recipe.” I supply easily, because this is the first meal I ever learned to cook. “It's a lazy dish, really, the Italians would call for my head if they ever ate this.”

“I liked it.” He declares, this time taking a bite instead of moving the food around. “You're not Italian, then.”

A laugh escapes me.

“Why would you think that?”

“You're obviously not American.” He shrugs, then his face pales. “I mean, you probably are, but your parents or grandparents weren't.”

The laugh dies down pretty quick after that. My smile is now strained as I look at him.

Is Spencer a white supremacists or do people just wonder about others’ ethnicity?
I certainly wasn't thinking about Spencer's ethnic background.

“I was born and raised here, and so were my parents.” I say slowly, he nods but his eyes are almost analytical as he does. “My grandparents were immigrants, but they also came here when they were kids.”

Spencer nods again, almost as if he's reassuring himself that he was in the right. I look down at the food, wondering what other hypothesis he has about me.

“Aside from psychology, I studied anthropology too.” He explains softly, almost apologetically. “I noticed you certainly don't fit into any… group?”

Huh.

“Nice to know I'm a walking stereotype.” I huff, trying to keep my tone light even if I feel like ants are crawling all over my skin. “But if you had ‘italian’ written down as a possibility, let me tell you you're way off.”

“I haven't written anything down, it's just that sometimes you do things that make you stand out in a way.”

Literally my worst fear.

I'm just a strange individual and I've come to terms with that, but I thought I had overcome the weird kid allegations that followed me in my school years.

“That doesn't have anything to do with my ethnic background.” I say, this time a little more forceful. “My parents died when I was young, they didn't get to teach me their cultures.”

Spencer now looks guilty, and he gulps before setting down the fork he was holding.

“Sorry if I offended you.” He begins, softly, as if he's approaching a scared animal. “I'm used to making assumptions about people based on their behavior, but I know I shouldn't do that with friends. If I can do anything to redeem myself-”

“Finish your food.” I interrupt, pointing to what's left on his plate. “Then we'll play and if you let me win out of pity, I'll kick you out.”

A nervous smile is sent my way before he grabs the fork again. I roll my eyes playfully, telling myself to calm down and continue eating too.

There's nothing Spencer can learn about me through my dead parents and their families’ history. I haven't even been in contact with my grandparents since I got married, and I don't even remember my aunts and uncles.

Sure, we can talk about family traditions. This shouldn't be a problem.

“So… who in your family wished for the Italians to hate them?” He asks shyly, and I smile at the joke attempt.

“My mom. She taught me this recipe like a year before the accident, she said I couldn't always live off reheated food or cup soups.” I shrug, trying to remember the exact conversation but failing to do so.

“How old were you?”

“When she taught me?” I ask and he nods. “Uh, like nine years old? She was pregnant, so I guess it was before my tenth birthday.”

“You were so young.” He says, frowning at his empty plate. “I don't think I learned to cook properly until I hit my growth spurt.”

“Which was…?”

“Around the time I turned thirteen.” He confirms, a tiny blush covering his face. “Before that I helped my mom around, so I wasn't completely clueless.”

“Oh, for sure. I always helped around in the kitchen too, but mostly when my mom made desserts. Otherwise my dad would have me watching documentaries.”

“Documentaries?”

“Yeah! I think I already told you, but he was a doctor. And my mom owned a small restaurant, so I guess they wanted my siblings and I to be interested in at least one of their careers.” I say, although I can't be sure because they never got to explain it to me. “It was kind of crazy, dad watched a lot of medical documentaries, he would also read papers out loud! And mom was always trying new things, she sometimes bought food from other restaurants to see how she could improve her own menu.”

As I speak new memories come to me, and soon I find myself shutting up to hide the emotions that attack me.

Spencer's eyes are soft, focused on me. His hand reaches for mine to caress it softly, willing me to continue. I shake my head no, and cover his hand with my free hand.

“Your parents sound like great people.” He says with ghost of admiration in his voice. “I'm sorry you didn't have more time with them.”

“It's ok.” I say, shrugging off whatever I was feeling. I let go of his hand and he quickly gets the hint. “I’ll take the plates to the kitchen, can you set up the games in the meanwhile?”

“Sure.”

My feet can't take me fast enough to the kitchen, where I know I'll feel safe. When I finally let everything in the kitchen sink, I let out a big sigh.

The memories are still fresh in my mind, but I can't allow myself to make this night awkward more than it already is, so I push everything out of the way.

When I feel ready to join Spencer, he's already shuffling the cards.

Guess we're playing this first.

“Poker?” I ask with an amused tone.

“Have you ever played GOPS?” He asks back, a mischievous smile on his face.

“Is the one with the bidding?”

“Yes.”

“That's a children's game. You don't think I can win at poker?” I challenge, sitting down in front of him.

He cocks his head and smirks.

“It's just to ease into the mindset, we can play poker next.”

“Or trash, or speed.” I begin naming every card game I know.

“If you have another deck we can even play solitaire, see who can solve it first.”

“I love solitaire!” I exclaim, getting up to reach the card deck on top of the library. It's really old and almost all the cards are damaged, but when I set it on the table, Spencer reaches for it without questioning anything.

“Solitaire first, then?”

“Hell yeah!”

I feel confident at the start, since it's a game I'm familiar with, but not even three minutes later Spencer is staring at me while his game is already done.

His cocky smile only fuels my competitiveness. But by the time we're on the third round, I'm already cheating in hopes to win. When he notices, a big laugh escapes him and he continues to watch me until I'm done.

Still, he keeps his word and doesn't let me win out of pity.

By the fourth card game, I'm not even trying to win, instead I keep chatting with Spencer to get to know him better.

It's a big surprise when I look up from my empty hands and see he still has cards, the shock on his face matches mine.

“You cheated.” He says suspiciously, and leans in to see if I've hidden any cards.

“I promise this time I didn't! Guess I'm just better at speed than you.”

“I demand a second round.” He mumbles, starting to shuffle the cards again.

“Look who's butthurt now!” I tease, getting up to do a little victory dance.

“I'm not!” He whines, a boyish look I haven't seen before on him. “You distracted me!”

“How?!”

“By being you.” He answers immediately, then blushes.

I receive my cards and look at them, a second later Spencer is already putting his cards away and I screech for him to stop.

“We didn't count down! Cheater!”

“It's not my fault you were distracted!”

“Cheater!” I insist, but use the second he looks at me, flabbergasted, to put away some of my cards.

“Ro!”

I stick my tongue out and continue putting away cards, making it hard for him to follow the game.

When I win again I jump out of the chair and dance, hearing him huff in irritation before he's giggling at my excitement.

“I'm done with this, we should play Monopoly instead.”

“You said monopoly is boring if there's only two players.” I remind him, sitting back down. “But we can play sudoku.”

“If you promise not to cheat when I win.” He teases, but nods at my suggestion.

“You'll find that I'm actually really good at sudoku, Spencie.” I say honestly, shrugging at his confidence. “It's all about pattern recognition, I think.”

When I look at him, he has a strange shine in his eyes, his mouth hangs open just a little bit and he only seems to realize when I frown at him.

He clears his throat and grabs the wooden boards.

“Why do you have two of each game?” He asks, voice weirdly shaken.

“Well, this one and the old deck of cards are mine. But I asked my aunt to bring some of theirs, so the newer ones are here just for you.” I confess, and Spencer smiles at that.

“I have a chessboard at home, I can bring it next time.” He offers, and I nod with ease.

“You'll have to teach me, though, I'm only good at checkers.”

“Gladly. Although checkers is fun too.” He agrees easily, eyes sparkling.

My stomach does a flip.

Cute.

“Uhm… do we set a timer?” I ask, motioning to the sudoku board.

“Yeah. Whoever finishes first, stops it.” He agrees, then pulls a little round thing from his pocket.

“Why do you have that?” I ask, scrunching my nose. He smiles and shrugs.

“It's just a pocket watch, I don't really like having a watch touching my skin all the time.” He explains, showing me the object with a grin.

“You're an old man trapped in a young body, aren't you?” I tease, receiving the watch and observing the little details. “Chess, pocket watch and an aversion for technology…”

He makes an offended sound.

“I don't have an aversion for technology.” He disagrees, frowning slightly.

“You told me a few times how much you hate texting, or using your phone at all…”

A blush covers his guilty face, his puppy eyes flutter before a small smile blinds me.

“I've been saying it less lately.” His small voice says.

I nod, because it's true. The first few times we texted he couldn't stop saying how he preferred to write by hand instead of using a computer or a phone, and later he also confessed to not having a TV in his apartment.

But lately he's been the one to start the conversations over texts, as much as he claims to like calls better.

“Yeah, you're joining the dark side now.” I agree, making him snort. “How long until you start watching reality tv with me?”

“Never.”

*·˚ ༘ ➳ ♡

Whatever I thought would happen when I decided to visit my mom didn't even come close.

How she managed to guess Ro’s existence just by seeing me still astounds me.

“So? What's her name?” She said out of nowhere, and without giving me a second to answer, she continued. “Or does it have something to do with that JJ girl again?”

“What?” I wheeze out after a minute of silence, a confused smile taking over my expression. “What are you talking about?”

“You're happy. I know my son, and this is the same happy eyes you had when you joined the FBI.” She says, voice slow and drawed out. As much as she hates my job, she's talking about that time with something close to nostalgia. “I remember you came to see me and started rambling about your new coworkers, Gideon and Jennifer specially.”

“Well, they're my friends.” I say lamely, her knowing eyes bore into mine.

“So? Who is this new friend?” She asks, her tone doesn't leave space for nonsense. “And do they have a new job offer I would like more?”

I roll my eyes, but Ro's name is already on the tip of my tongue.

“Her name is Ro. We met in a bookstore and we've been talking about books and boardgames mostly.” I say, feeling like there's much more to say even if that's just about it.

She spends more time in my mind than we spend in real life.

“Ro.” Mom tries the name, nodding to herself. “Is that her whole name?”

“Well, no. That's the nickname I gave her, and she gave me a nickname too!”

“Really?”

“Yeah, she calls me Spencie.” I tell her, and her eyes glint in amusement. “At first I thought it sounded childish but I do like it.”

“What is it with you and girls-with-short-names-that-give-you-nicknames?” Mom asks, shaking her head with a helpless smile.

“Hey!”

“Your name is perfect as it is, Spencer. I know so because I chose it.”

“You called me Crash when I was a kid.” I remind her, making her smile bigger. “And that nickname doesn't even have anything to do with my name.”

“True.”

We sit in silence for a minute, letting our minds wander through the memories, hearing the birds chirping.

“I think you would like her a lot.” I confess, my hands nervously picking at my clothes. “She's a wreck sometimes, but it makes me feel…” Many words come to my mind, some make me feel slightly concerned, some I have to push away. “young.” I finally decide. “Like I don't have a care in the world and I can just have fun. She gets this crazy spurts of energy, especially when she wins at a board game, and she starts singing and dancing out of nowhere.”

“Is she any good at it?” Mom asks, genuinely interested.

“Sometimes, when she's washing the dishes or folding clothes. But if she's just messing around, she won't even try to find the right key.” I laugh, and mom smiles again. “Oh, she has a dog.”

“You're not a dog person.” Mom points out.

“No, I'm not.” I agree. “Though Nova is starting to grow on me. I like her better when she's tired, definitely, but I can tolerate her at her worst behavior.”

“Well, patience is a virtue. And you, dear, have a lot of it.” Mom says, the tone she would use to read to me seeping through. “That makes you a perfect professional and a great godfather.”

“Oh, yes! You won't guess what Henry got into last weekend.” I begin, recalling Henry's chocolate covered little face. My mom laughs all throughout the story and even shares a few anecdotes from my own childhood.

The conversation navigates between my loved ones and the new research I've been doing. I can't be thankful enough for this day, mom has been better for the most part of this week and the doctors are very pleased with her.

It's nice to get to talk to her about my life and ask for advice without hearing about the delusions that haunt her.

We walk through the sanatorium’s garden, her arm on mine, while I hear her plans for the next day and how she's looking forward to a live orchestra that will come in a couple of weeks.

She listens to me talk about my work, and even if she doesn't like it, she offers her point of view on various matters.

By the time I'm asked to leave, I try my best to hide my tears while we say goodbye.

“Promise me you'll call as soon as you land.” Mom says sternly, holding my face. “And you'll write to me each time that friend of yours wins, I want to keep score.”

“Sure.” I agree easily. “I'll send you a photo of Henry and me too.”

“You better!”

The door closes behind me and the nurses give me a sad smile as they see me pass next to them.

Once I'm out of the sanatorium and hiding safely in the car I rented for the day, I let the tears fall freely.

It never gets easier. I've been doing this for years and it still hurts to leave her behind. Now it hurts more than ever, because things are good and I would love for her to spend these days with me.

Mom is safe here, she's happy here. I repeat to myself.

I couldn't possibly be able to provide for the two of us if she lived with me, she needs constant attention.

My phone rings, startling me.

Ro's name in the screen warms me. A stark contrast on the cold I've been feeling since I left my mom's room.

“Hello?” I answer, shaky voice betraying me.

“Hi! Sorry, are you busy?” She asks, bubbly tone already getting a small smile out of me. “I got my hands on a vinyl I've wanted for a while and needed to tell someone.”

“I’m not busy, no.” I say, getting more comfortable on the seat. “What kind of music?”

“Oh, it's like a fifties medley? Like when women used to sing Acapella and dress with uniforms.” She begins rambling. “I found it at an antique store. I don't recognize any of the names, though.”

“I didn't know you liked that kind of music.”

“Well, I love music in general. Even the weird electronic beats!”

“Really?” I ask and even I can feel the judgement on my tone, she snorts.

“Yeah! If you open your mind to it, you'll realize that it's art and someone put thought and work behind it.” She says, voice barely hiding a reprimand. “Art it's supposed to make you feel things, isn't it? And that kind of music makes people feel things too.”

“I can see your point.” I admit begrudgingly. “It's just… not my style.”

“Totally. Which is why I would never take you to a club, or rave.”

It's unsettling how bothered I'm by that, and for all the wrong reasons too.

Usually I would hate going out and getting involved in the party culture, but the thought of Ro being there with me and just watching her having fun… makes me want to experience it.

She's also quite giggly when she's tipsy.

“That's so considerate of you.” I decide to tell her, starting the car so I can focus on something else. “Can I call you in a minute? I have to drive to the airport now.”

“Just text me when you're about to board. Oh, and after I pick you up we should stop somewhere to eat. Or I could cook something?”

“At three in the morning?” I ask without believing what I'm hearing.

“You have to eat something!”

“Ok, we'll stop at a dinner then.” I agree and hear her awknoledge my answer with a hum. “See you in five hours!”

“See you!”

I end the call before starting to second guess, I'm not especially fond of driving and I can't trust myself to do it while also balancing my phone.

The drive is quiet and monotonous, the only sound in the car is my breathing and the only thing I see are the blinding lights and the busy night life.

Las Vegas hasn't felt like home in years.

D.C. is just starting to feel like it.

*·˚ ༘ ➳ ♡

I grip the cart handles and make a sudden stop, making Spencer turn around.

“I'm the one driving! Hands off the cart!” I admonish, he laughs quietly but puts his hands up. “You didn't want to drive it because of the germs and now you don't want to let go.”

“I'm just trying to guide you.” He defends himself, but when I roll my eyes he nods in defeat and turns around again.

His eyes analyze the shelves, when he finally spots the right brand, his gentle hands reach for it to grab it and put it on the cart.

It's a brand of oat that I haven't heard of, but I won't argue with the man that reads every food label and calculates which price is more convenient in less than three seconds.

I'm not used to doing grocery shopping at all, since that was part of Philip's job before.

But so far, it isn't as boring as people told me it would be. Or maybe it's just Spencer making me optimistic.

“Grab the Honey Bunches for me, please?” I ask him, since he's the one standing closest to it.

He reaches for it and puts it on my side of the cart.

“Should we buy actual food now?” He asks with a laugh, looking at my side of the cart (full of snacks and wine) and then his (literally just oat, coffee and cereal bars).

“I can actually survive off of this and take out.”

“I know, I've seen it.” He teases, grabbing the end of the cart like he did before. I roll my eyes but let him guide me through the aisles.

“Liar! I've cooked for you at least twice now.”

“Yeah, and that's why you'll let me buy you groceries.” He reminds me, grabbing rice bags from the shelves. “You're ok with any brand?”

“Sure.”

He nods and continues to guide me through each aisle, mechanically finding the brands with a balance between price and healthiness. I recognize some of them, but for the most part I'm happy to let him explain why he picked each one.

Who would've known Spencer was a health freak.

I knew, I called it.

“And you actually don't need to wash it before cooking it.” He says as we get to the meat aisle, the coldness of it making me hug myself. He notices, of course. “Do you want my sweater?”

“I'm ok, as long as we don't stay here for an hour.” I try to joke, but the cold makes me grit my teeth.

Spencer sighs with a small smile and takes his sweater off, striding over and putting it on me with a swiftness I didn't expect.

Once he's done fixing the sleeves and neckline, he steps back and gives me a smile.

I breathe in his scent as soon as he turns away.

“Do you prefer legs or wings?” He asks, and I have to shake myself out of it to answer.

“Legs, definitely.” I say, pushing the cart until we're standing close again. “I could eat a hundred wings and still be hungry.”

“Maybe you just need to eat slower.” He shrugs, but puts the chicken legs on the cart.

I do eat fast, sometimes Spencer is barely finishing his first plate and I'm already on the second one. It has never bothered me, so I don't really know why the heck I'm blushing.

“But then the food will get cold.”

“I promise you it won't, Ro.”

We walk away from the chicken and find ourselves looking at the frozen seafood section. Spencer doesn't look particularly fond of this one, but he obediently picks whatever I tell him to.

By the time we're at the checkout counter, my brows furrow at the groceries.

The person before us is already paying.

“We forgot to buy cheese.” I tell Spencer, seeing our groceries move and the cashier start to scan them.

“Oh. I'll go, what kind do you like?”

“I don't care.”

Spencer gives me a curt nod and breaks into a run, making me laugh nervously as I look at the cashier expecting her to be annoyed.

But the woman just looks at me with a knowing smile and scans significantly slower than I've ever seen a cashier scan.

“You two make a beautiful couple.” She comments, scanning Spencer's oat.

My brain takes a second to understand she's literally talking to me.

“Oh- I… we're not…”

“I got it!” Spencer shouts, putting the bag of cheese next to the other groceries as he settles by my side. His chest is rising and falling quickly. “I found the same brand you have at your house.”

“You're out of shape, Spencie.” I tease, putting a strand of hair behind his ear.

“I know.” He wheezes out, exaggerating on his exhausted expression before smiling.

“The total is 208.36.” The cashier announces after she scans every item. “How are you paying?”

“Card.” Spencer says, before I can even open my mouth.

I watch the transaction and thank the woman, grabbing the least heavier bags as Spencer takes the rest of them.

With the amount of food we bought, I'm certain we won't be back for a month at least.

When we reach my car, I open the trunk and let Spencer decide which way we should organize the bags so nothing will get damaged while I drive.

Once he's happy with the result, we get into the car.

“I wasn't expecting you to like hot food as much as you do…” Spencer says as I start the car.

“I only got two sauces! That are not hot at all, by the way.” I argue, a playful smile mirroring Spencer's. “Just because they have the Mexican flag doesn't mean they're hot!”

“The label literally says they are!” He argues back, and I can't help but laugh. “I'm more surprised that you didn't just grab a ghost pepper or something.”

“Meh, I like the serrano pepper better.”

“I think… I’m too white for this.”

A big thunder of laugh escapes me, and I'm very grateful we've stopped at a red light. Spencer is laughing quietly, but his face has a very lovely shade of pink covering it.

“Don't say that, Spencie. I've seen you power through Thai and Indian food better than many people.” I try to cheer, he just shakes his head.

“I do eat them, but my stomach hurts a lot afterwards.” He admits as if he's embarrassed.

“Ok, nothing wrong with that.” I say softly, but seeing his expression stays the same, I sigh and squeeze a little bit of personal information out: “You know, my stomach hurts a lot after I eat spicy food. And I constantly worry I'm going to get stomach cancer or something.”

“Stomach cancer?”

“My grandmother died from it.” I explain, remembering my mom telling me to stop eating things that could upset my stomach. The memories come so clearly that I have to grip the steering wheel to anchor myself to the president. “My mom believed spicy food was what caused it, but my father disagreed.”

“Why do you keep eating it then?”

“Well, my father was a doctor, so I took everything he said as truth.”

Spencer nods slowly.

“You probably were a very stubborn child.” He states, then nods to himself.

I'm surprisingly offended by that.

“I wasn't! I was an angel child.” I assure him, but his eyebrows are set high on his forehead and he has a tiny hint of a smirk playing on his lips. “Really! I was maybe a little spoiled but I always listened to adults.”

Sometimes maybe too much.

I grip to the steering wheel again, exhaling slowly.

“You just said you kept eating spicy food despite your mom telling you not to.”

“Because my dad told me it was ok! And he was the oldest adult in the house, so…”

“Did you just eat it in front of your mom, wasn't she mad?”

“Of course not! I only had it when she wasn't around. Dad would always sneak me a serrano pepper to go with my lunch.” I say, the feeling of being eight years old fresh in my mind. “Sometimes I made classmates eat it, they would exaggerate their reactions so much.”

“You terrorized your classmates-”

“I did not!”

“-into eating a whole serrano pepper. Are you sure you weren't a bully?”

“You keep putting words in my mouth! My friends wanted to taste it and I gave them some, they didn't like it and I understood.”

“And you didn't laugh at their reactions?” He asks suspiciously, and when I stutter before answering, he starts laughing quietly.

“Of course I did! But it was harmless fun, we all laughed together.”

“What's funny about a kid not liking spicy food?”

“As a kid everything was funny.” I shrug, he just stares at me. “I was a very happy kid back then.”

“I would say you're a very happy adult right now.” He says softly, and my stomach gives a flip.

I feel nauseous.

Is anyone truly happy nowadays?

Sure, I would say I'm happy now -today. But I've also cried a lot this year, and I've definitely made bad decisions that haunt me at night.

I want to be happy so bad, I want to deserve it.

“That's because you only see me at my best.” I sigh, tapping my fingers lightly on the steering wheel. “You haven't seen me on the bad days.”

“I want to, though.” He confesses softly, his own fingers playing with the hem of his shirt. “We're friends, if you ever feel bad I want you to know I'm here for you.”

The thing is: whenever I've been feeling bad, just thinking about our friendship is enough to get me in a better mood.

And that's just too scary.

“Thanks, Spencie. I'm here for you too.”

*·˚ ༘ ➳ ♡

There's something about walking around this late at night that makes me uncomfortable, especially this close to the woods.

My brain keeps taking me back to that night where I lost sight of JJ and found myself alone with him.

It wouldn't be this bad if there were people around. But since it's almost four in the morning, everyone is probably asleep.

“Nova!” Ro shouts when her dog gets too far.

We hear a bark and share a huff of laughter, at least we know she's near.

“It's my fault, sorry for interrupting your routine.” I say softly, noticing the way Ro tries to stifle a yawn.

“Oh no, don't worry!” She says immediately, her genuine smile makes something deep in my chest flutter. “I needed to stay in today, and I really enjoyed watching old Disney movies with you.”

“Even if I kept pointing out the time period inaccuracies?”

Her giggle is sweet, but just as hard to notice as her shy nod.

“You're always welcome to point inaccuracies out, Spencie.” She says lightly, a playful tone lacing her words.

Must be the wine we had.

“Even yours?”

“Only if you don't make a fuss when I point out yours.”

“I don't have any inaccuracies.”

“So sure of yourself…” She mutters, shoving me softly.

My legs are slow to catch up to the new movement, and I end up laying on the grass next to the street. Probably some old man's lawn, since it's so we'll kept.

“Ouch.”

“Oh my God! I'm so sorry, Spencie.” Ro exclaims, rushing to help me get up.

Before she can do it, Nova runs towards us and tackles her. She lands just next to me and grunts when her dog runs right over us.

“You should have left me to sulk on my own.” I tell her, finally getting up and reaching to help her. “Nova clearly needed that hike.”

“We could've hiked together, is my fault for choosing to stay in.” She says softly, taking my hand and accepting my help.

“Hike together?” I parrot back, my tone incredulous. “I'm Spencer, by the way. I think you got me confused with another guy.”

She shakes her head and rolls her eyes fondly.

“One day I'm going to drag your ass up a hill with me.” She declares, and it sounds dangerously like a promise. “And you're going to have a great time.”

“Keep dreaming, Ro.”

“About you? Gladly.”

She winks playfully and starts to chase Nova around.

Leaving me to deal with the flush on my cheeks and the smile I can't seem to erase from my lips.

It's silly, because she's like this every time we drink and I still can't help myself from becoming a teenager girl around her.

I wonder if she notices the effect she has, because the way she keeps checking to see if I'm following sometimes tells me she's genuinely surprised by my reactions.

As if I'm the one acting crazy.

Half an hour later I'm still thinking about Ro’s subtle ways of making my heart race. And I find myself spacing out enough that she notices it.

“Sorry, I'm sleepy.” I try to justify myself, but cringe at the choice of words.

Ro nods with understanding, face scrunching up as she tries to battle another yawn.

“Nova still has a lot of energy, but we can head back.” She decides, an turns in the wrong direction.

I frown, looking around. We've been walking for a while now and the surroundings aren't as recognizable, but I can tell her house isn't in the direction she's walking.

“Wait, Ro-” I call, rushing to grab her hand and guide her in the right way.

Our fingers interlock almost instinctively, I can't find it in myself to let go of her even when her attention is back on me.

“What?”

“Your house is this way.” I mumble nervously, her eyes are almost glassy and the streetlights makes them look bigger than they are. “Let's go.”

Her hand squeezes mine and her head falls on my shoulder as we walk slowly, retracing our steps and watching Nova run in front of us.

My brain is screaming at me, about germs and how clammy our hands are right now.

My heart is beating wildly, drowning anything else with its sound. Making me squeeze her hand back and blush slightly when she looks at me with nothing but trust.

Tranquility.

We arrive at Ro’s house safely, Nova plows down next to the couch as if we were the ones dragging her around and not the other way around.

Ro finally slips her hand out of mine when we enter the house, taking her jacket off and hanging it next to the door. I copy her movements, and smile tiredly at her.

She keeps on staring at me, eyes fighting the sleepiness.

The sight only makes my heart melt.

I gulp, and before I can hold the words back they slip out.

“Can I kiss you?

Her lips part slightly, a breath of shock leaving her. Her eyes are more alert now, as if she's trying to figure out if she heard correctly or it's just imagining things.

Before I can take the words back and apologize, she closes the distance.

I feel the soft pressure of her lips on mine.

And we're definitely not sober.

And we're definitely going to regret this.

But I kiss her back, and my hand goes to her hair. I can feel her trying to get closer, so I do the same.

And somehow I end up pressing her against the same door we just closed, just kissing her lips until I feel like I'm going to pass out. She feels soft all over, her arms wrap around my neck and pull me closer and closer.

I have to stop myself each time my lips wander to her neck, but I can't stop her hands from exploring my torso and back.

She tastes sweeter than the wine we were drinking, my tongue explores her mouth with abandon.

I can't get enough of it.

And then, suddenly, she's pushing me off of her. I comply without any fight, letting her regain her breath and trying to do the same.

Quietly she kisses me again, moving slowly until we're sharing short kisses while stumbling over to the couch.
This feels even more intimate, and I can't help but feel defenseless.

She sets the pace and kisses me again, this time holding my neck in place.

“Spencer…”

“Sorry.” Is the first thing I say, seeing the way she hesitates before brushing her lips against mine again.

“It's ok.”

But it's really not.

“Yeah.” I breathe out, my gaze going from her lips to her pretty eyes. “Everything's ok.”

She nods, albeit a bit hesitant.

But her lips are on mine again, sweet and so soft.

My hands find their way to her waist, she laughs quietly between kisses and makes me smile.

Next thing I know is the sun creeping through the windows, our bodies are heavy with exhaustion but our lips can't seem to be apart for more than a few seconds.

Finally she lays her head on my shoulder and her eyes close, her movements still and I can only catch my breath.

So many thoughts are running around in my head, and I can still feel the wine and the strange surge of confidence in my blood.

What have we done?

*·˚ ༘ ➳ ♡

He’s been watching the girls shower.

When I first arrived I heard them whispering about it, as the time passed I started to notice him lingering around the bathroom.

Things reached a breaking point when one of the kids found the hidden camera, many of us escaped in the middle of the night.

Some stayed to confront him about it.

I ran, helped two other girls on my way out.

Social workers told us he would never hurt kids again. Not even a month later he had another set of kids to terrorize, I saw them at school.

Their haunted eyes told me enough.

Back then I couldn't do anything, I was a child myself. And later just a highschooler with her own problems to worry about, too much going on at my own home.

Now it's different.

No one could stop me, some tried.

It was quick, he didn't see it coming.

I knocked on the door, he opened.

I shot him.

Then left, without turning around to check.

His wife's wail of despair was enough of a confirmation, all I needed to know.