Fighting for Rose

35❦

35

❦𝓡𝓸𝓼𝓮❦

Oliver is being held in jail. We saw an article posted about it the next day. Looks like the case is going to be followed by the paper because he tried to flee and ended up crashing into someone's home.

No one was killed, but I'm sure the people will press charges. It looks like he has a lot stacking up in him, if he walks free it will be no short of a miracle.

He hasn't tried to bring me down with him. Isaiah said he probably won't because if I testify that he forced me to deal, he would end up in even more trouble.

Blake held me as I cried myself to sleep that night, everything was so overwhelming.

For the first time I was able to sleep without the lingering feeling that Oliver could show up at any moment. He was behind bars, and not only that, but Blake made it clear to him that he'd be a dead man if he tried anything again.

Blake had a long discussion with me the next day, he wasn't mean or angry at me like I thought he'd be. He calmly explained how me not trusting him hurts him, and that he respects that I may not want to tell him everything in my life.

But that doesn't mean it's ok to keep things like what happened with Oliver a secret from him. I promised I wouldn't do that again, and this time I mean it.

Looking back I realized I could have handled it way better, and I should have told him the moment I got that letter.

Blake just got back from the gym, he's taking a shower to freshen up and then we're going over to Olivia's for dinner. I'm flipping through channels on the TV when I hear a crash from outside followed by a girl huffing.

I peek out the window and almost burst out laughing when I see a girl sprawled out on a recliner in front of our door. Her face is red and a bead of sweat rolls down her forehead.

"Two more apartments, Bella. Then you only have like fifty more things to carry." She groans.

She gets up off the chair, puts both hands on it and starts pushing it across the floor.

"I thought I was strong, now I know I'm weak." She grumbles.

The chair is hardly moving, she looks absolutely exhausted. I throw my shoes on and run out the door.

"Would you like some help?" I offer. She turns to me, hunched over with one hand on her side.

"That," she huffs, placing a hand on my shoulder. "would be very much so appreciated." She grimaces trying to catch her breath.

"One second." She wheezes. "Do you want some water?" I ask, worried.

She replies with a nod.

By the time I returned with water she was able to catch her breath again.

"Thank you." She chugs the water. "It was too big to fit in the elevator!" She grunts, kicking the chair. "Had to drag it up all those stairs." She groans with horror in her eyes.

We live on the third floor, and that chair looks like it weighs a ton. I'm surprised she managed to get it up here by herself.

"Ready? It's going in the door down there that's open already." She nods to the apartment that's been empty for the last week.

Once we get it inside I see she already painted the walls.

"I like the color you picked." I say pointing to the velvet slipper color she painted on a wall in the living room.