“I’ll show you how to use the alarm before I go,” he said.

I nodded.

“And whatever I do today, I’ll do it close so if you get too freaked, you call me and I can be here fast.”

“Don’t change your—”

“Rosie, that’s just the way it’s gonna be today and every day until you’re feelin’ good about things.”

Perfect for me.

I nodded again.

“And I’ll be back tonight around six. I’ll bring dinner. What do you want?” he asked.

“What are my choices?”

“Any place that does takeaway in the Denver Metro Area.”

“That’s an alarming amount of choice, Snapper Kavanaugh.”

“It’s what you got, Rosalie Holloway.”

“Narrow it down for me, Mulder,” I ordered and the instant I did, the look in his eyes…

Man.

I’d leap through rings of fire to give him that look again.

He liked we had that. Him my Mulder, me his Scully. He liked getting it back. He liked that familiarity. That history. That sweetness we shared, him and me.

Perfect for me.

“Indian or Mexican,” he said softly.

“Indian.”

“You got a favorite?” he asked.

“Butter chicken,” I told him.

“Noted,” he said.

“Or chicken tikka masala,” I shared.

“Right.”

“Or chicken korma,” I said.

“Rosie—”

“Or shrimp biryani. And onion bhaji, mushroom bhaji, tikka skewers, samosas. Anything with paneer in it. I also like keema. And don’t forget the pilau rice, naan and papadums.”

I shut up.

Snap stared at me.

I continued to be silent.

“You done?” he asked.

“Aloo gobi,” I said quietly.

He busted out laughing.

He gave me a quick kiss on the lips still doing it, and continuing to do it, he pulled away and asked, “What do you want me to make you for breakfast?”

“LaMar’s,” I shared.

He shook his head, still laughing, and also asking, “You got one or two choices to give me or do I gotta get through another recitation?”

“Buttermilk glazed or Bavarian cream.”

“Gotcha,” he said, gave me another quick kiss, then rolled away.

I watched his ass as he got out of bed and I watched a lot of things as he walked around the end of it to the bathroom, all of them awesome.

Then I lay on my new mattresses (that Snapper gave me) and looked to the ceiling of my bedroom in my new house (that Snapper gave me).

And I thought, What the hell am I doing?

I knew.

But I didn’t know.

I knew it was right.

And I was terrified it was wrong.

I wanted to grab hold to all that had been given to me (and my mom) from the instant we walked into this carriage house.

And I felt fear tearing into me that if I did, I’d finally have it all again.

Which meant having everything to lose…

Again.

Chapter Six

Beautiful

Rosalie

I stood in bra and panties, leaning over the basin in my new bathroom, staring at my face in the mirror.

The bruising down either side of my inner eyes was now just shadows. Except for the pad prints of Beck’s fingers, all the discoloration on my neck was gone. Sometime since yesterday, the final stitches had fallen out of the gash in my brow and the one on my jaw, leaving only red marks I hoped would recede. And the tape was coming off my nose tomorrow at my final follow-up with my doctor.

Lifting my chin so I could see them both, I stared at the red marks.

Rainman had opened up my brow. When it happened, I felt it tearing. He always wore heavy rings and made it clear in heinous ways that he felt like continuing to be accessorized during the festivities.

Those rings had skulls on them.

And some had crosses.

So he’d opened me up with what amounted to a crucifix, marking me maybe forever, reminding me every time I looked at myself or someone’s eyes drifted that way of my time spent in that warehouse.

Every time any brother of Chaos looked at me, they’d be reminded too.

And most of all, Snapper would too.

I lifted my hands, rubbed them through the wet hair I’d combed back after my shower and moved to the closet, doing an inventory and finding out where all my stuff was.

I tugged on jeans, went back to the bathroom, sprayed on deodorant and perfume, then back to the drawers in the closet to grab a cream cami-shell. I pulled it on, then snatched out a thin, nearly see-through, dusky-blue, five-button thermal that didn’t even pretend to be about keeping me warm.

The buttons undone (like they were then, like I always wore them) showed some cleavage. The material clearly displayed the shell. It was a full torso, subtly sexy peek-a-boo worn by a scarred, beaten, disposed-of biker old lady.

“Okay, damn, where is my head at today?” I snapped, forcing myself to pull it together.

I had to call Colombo’s and tell them I was good to go on the next schedule. I had to unpack the bags that were filled with stuff Mom had run to my old place to grab while I was in the hospital because we both knew I wouldn’t be going back there until I could face it before we knew I wasn’t going to go back there at all. I needed to familiarize myself with where the Chaos old ladies had put my stuff and move anything if they’d done it the way I didn’t want it.