When she's not up at the house, when it's Charlie or Marcus or someone else spending time with Sabrina instead, providing their own comforts, Rosie still keeps her phone close. Sometimes she's just sending distractions, pictures and texts, funny stories or silly jokes; other times, something more substantive, reminders of her love and care in the face of all the lingering bleak confusion that Nick's betrayal had wrought. It's not much, none of it really is, but it's what she can provide.
She'd tried to do something else, too, some furious confrontation a few nights previous. Somehow, she can't grasp the details, just a sense of something wrong that her mind skitters away from just as she starts to contemplate it. She knows she tried; lets that be enough for now.
When her phone pings, Rosie's sitting on the couch with Beau, a heating pad slung over her shoulder. She'd done something to it the other day, something else she can't quite recall, and it still hurt. Seeing that the text that's just come through is from Sabrina, though, gets her moving as it always does. While it's just words on a screen, there's an urgency to them, something frantic. She unplugs the heating pad and bundles it away, gulps down another dose of ibuprofen, and then she's out the door.
Once there, Rosie knocks at the front door, then tests the knob and finds it unlocked. "It's just me," she calls, pushing her way inside. She can see a dim glow in the hall, in the direction of Sabrina's room, and she heads toward it.
no subject
She'd tried to do something else, too, some furious confrontation a few nights previous. Somehow, she can't grasp the details, just a sense of something wrong that her mind skitters away from just as she starts to contemplate it. She knows she tried; lets that be enough for now.
When her phone pings, Rosie's sitting on the couch with Beau, a heating pad slung over her shoulder. She'd done something to it the other day, something else she can't quite recall, and it still hurt. Seeing that the text that's just come through is from Sabrina, though, gets her moving as it always does. While it's just words on a screen, there's an urgency to them, something frantic. She unplugs the heating pad and bundles it away, gulps down another dose of ibuprofen, and then she's out the door.
Once there, Rosie knocks at the front door, then tests the knob and finds it unlocked. "It's just me," she calls, pushing her way inside. She can see a dim glow in the hall, in the direction of Sabrina's room, and she heads toward it.