Rosie walked home through the woods, slogging through the dense forest. Stupidly, in her haste, she’d made her exit through the backyard even though her bike was in the front.

Once she got back to the trailer and locked the door behind her, she finally felt safe enough to let go. Her shoulders dropped and the tears came. At first, she wasn’t even sure why she was crying, an emotional release more than anything else.

The first wave of tears came hard and fast, like a hurricane that descended and leveled everything in its wake. Her eyes leaked hot tears, that streamed down her cheeks. She held in great big sobs, afraid if she let them out, she might not ever stop. She spent hours in that first torrent of emotion, feeling completely separate from the rest of the world.

The second wave was fueled by anger and came hot on the heels of the first. When the wracking of her sobs stopped the growling of her rage began. Furiously, she stomped to her bedroom and dug out her old suitcase and flung it on the bed. In her frenzy, she cried while she packed her belongings. Jacob’s Beach was ruined for her now. Her past caught up to her and had spoiled whatever life she’d been trying to build. It wasn’t just about Butch. He’d been the trigger but she kept going back to Max, letting her bleed in front of him because he wanted to know what color her blood was. Her pain was no different than anyone else’s and she resented being forced to share things she didn’t want to. It wasn’t the first time he’d done that to her but it would certainly be the last.

The third wave came after she’d packed all the things she cared about. Her money and a few of her books, along with her clothes stashed in her suitcase, Gizmo in his carrying case stacked on top. She turned around to get one last view of the camper she loved so much and broke. Her back hit the door and she slid to the floor, holding her knees to her chest. How could everything go so wrong, so fast? How could the people that claimed to be her friends back her into that kind of corner? Max, who said he loved her, had pushed her further down when she was already on the ground.

It was dark by the time she dusted herself off and collected herself. She went to the bathroom and avoided glancing in the mirror. She knew, without looking, it wouldn’t be pretty.

Cold washcloth pressed to her face, Rosie wavered between leaving right that very moment and waiting until the morning. She considered the bus stop a mile away and the advantage of leaving at night. She was honest with herself and knew she was being a coward by considering it. Leaving without saying goodbye or giving Wendy two-weeks notice at work was a shitty thing to do. But when she thought about what had happened at Max’s, she decided that had been shittier. So, leaving at night was a good option.

The con was, it was the middle of the night and she had nowhere to go, no real way to get there, and no bus schedule to find a new place to go.

She consulted her watch and made a face. It really wasn’t that late. Chances were, she could get to the bus station while it was still open and hop on a bus to somewhere.

Anywhere.

* * *

Rosie made it to her usual bus stop bench in good time, even pulling a suitcase behind her with Gizmo in his cat carrier. She painstakingly avoided thinking about everything that had transpired at Max’s. At first, she told herself, it was because it was easier than breaking down in tears at any given moment. Later on, she admitted it was mostly because she didn’t want to think about what she was doing or what the consequences were. Was it really that big of a deal that Max knew about her past? Would it really affect the way he saw her?

But she knew it was more than that. It was about her privacy and her desperate need to keep those things close to her heart. That was on her, but Max had violated that a few times and as much as she thought she’d overcome the hurdle, she didn’t trust him. Maybe even less now, even after the night they’d spent together.

She hunkered further into her hoodie at the sound of a vehicle approaching and turned her head, her face out of sight. It passed by her slowly but drove on without incident.

It was another twenty minutes before her bus came and another thirty after that when she arrived at the main terminal.

She stood at the departures sign and contemplated. North, heading to Georgia, leaving in six hours. South, heading to Key West, via Miami, forty minutes. Seemed like an easy choice. She quickly bought her ticket and boarded her bus early after stowing her suitcase and poor Gizmo underneath.

It wasn’t full but seats were limited. Some people had clearly been on the bus for a while, camped out for the long haul. She found a window seat next to an elderly man.

He smiled when he saw her eyeing the seat and stood. “It’s free,” he said with a smile.

“Thanks,” she murmured.

Like she had at the bus stop, she kept her hood up and for good measure slid her sunglasses on. The international sign for leave me alone. She crossed her arms over her chest and slid down in her seat.

Ten hours after stops, the ticket agent had said.

Ten hours until she started over somewhere new.

Again.

* * *

Give her space.

That’s what they’d told him all day long.

Just give her some space.

It was strange, Max thought, he could go back and pinpoint the moment Rosie had piqued his interest. It had been months ago, way back that first night, at Tedesco’s. He’d offered to give her a ride and she’d refused. It was her refusal that stuck with him. He could picture her, that look in her eye like an animal caught in a cage with her hands up. As if she could hold him back with a gesture alone, and she had.

She’d done it again, on his porch, when Butch had revealed more in five minutes than Rosie had in the last three months. Not only had her mother tried to hurt Rosie but she’d succeeded.

Max could barely go there.

He’d taken a step toward her and she’d taken a step back and held her hands up again. A plea for him to stay away that he’d stupidly obeyed.

Let her cool off, he’d thought.

An hour ago, his mother had shown up at his house to deliver some left over cake from the business association dinner. She’d come in and casually talked for what seemed like forever before saying, “Where’s Rosie headed at this time of night?”

Max had leaned back, his brows drawn. “What do you mean?”

“She was sitting at the bus stop when I drove by.”

With a sigh, he put his hands on his hips and took in Rosie’s empty trailer. Her clothes were gone. Some of her books were gone. A few of her personal items were gone.

Most important to Rosie, Gizmo and her money were gone.

He scrubbed a hand down his face and took a painful breath.

She ran.

He’d thought they’d come further than that. He’d thought they were in a place she’d at least trust him enough to work it out together. He didn’t actually think she’d up and leave without a word.

Is this what Butch Hardy had felt when she’d run on out on him? Had he felt the same pain in his chest? The crushing sensation that seemed to center right where his heart was?

Was this his fault? Was Rosie right to feel betrayed by his need to know her past? What he’d learned hadn’t changed the way he felt about her but it had certainly pushed her away.

With one last look, Max exited the camper and headed to his truck.

He’d find her. He had to.

* * *

The woman working at the bus station recognized Rosie's picture and told Dallas she'd bought a ticket for a bus departing to Miami.

She was gone.

Dallas and Wendy had been with him all night as he searched every place he could think of to look. They'd gone to Jay's and the diner she liked. They'd gone to the park and the beach. The bus stop had been a last-ditch effort. It was the last place he wanted to look for her.

When his mother told him Rosie was sitting at the bus stop, his first thought was that she'd finally disappeared. Isn't that what he'd always thought? That he'd get too close and she'd be gone before he knew it. He’d always thought it might happen but the reality struck like a physical blow.

He squinted as the headlights from Dallas' truck hit his rear-view mirror and flashed in his eyes. Wendy was back there, too, riding with Dal and the last thing he wanted to hear was their platitudes.

Those same lines they kept giving him.

She'll come back.

She wouldn't do that.

But she would, wouldn't she. She had. Not just tonight but her whole life, that's what she did. And he'd forced her hand. Again.

He pulled up to his garage, threw the truck in park and sighed.

There was a good chance he'd never see Rosie again.

Bone tired and dangerously close to losing his shit he climbed out of his truck, hoping Dal and Wendy would take a hint and just leave him alone. They didn't seem to be faring much better than he was, both of them quiet and sullen. Silently, but together, they headed toward the porch.

Dal slapped his arm. "Hey,"

Max looked at him and then at the porch when Dal pointed.

Rosie rose from the porch swing, stepping out of the shadows and into the moonlight. He slowed to a stop at the bottom of the stairs and looked up at her.

Haggard, arms wrapped around herself, bundled in a hoodie covered by a denim jacket, she looked lost.

Leave it to Dal to not mince words. "Where the hell have you been? We thought you left."

"I did," she told them quietly.

"Bought a ticket to Miami?" Max asked.

Rosie shrugged and sat on the top step.

"I didn't know what else to do."

Dal huffed. "That's the stupidest shit I've ever heard."

"Dallas!" Wendy scolded. "She's here."

Rosie looked at Max and ignored the other two. He felt her despair all the way down to his bones. Her eyes pleaded with him to understand.

"I don't know how to fix things when they break. I don't know how to solve problems. I know how to run," she shrugged, her eyes unable to hold his as she darted her eyes away and then back. "Happy runs," she shook her head. "I don't want Rosie to run."

"So, you came back," Wendy murmured with a smile.

Rosie kept looking at Max but was unable to move, somewhere between afraid to spook her and afraid he was dreaming.

"Everything Butch said about me was true. He found me on the floor of a whorehouse when I was seven. I grew up mostly in the foster care system. I lived with Butch and his wife for a while until they didn't want me anymore."

She took a deep breath and looked down at her feet.

"He promised he'd keep me and he lied."

She looked back up at them all.

"I have a hard time trusting people, letting people in. I was in over a dozen homes before my mom got out of jail. There were four homes before Butch brought me to his house. The one with the older kids I remember the most because it was the scariest, but there was one where I wasn’t allowed to touch the refrigerator because they didn’t want me eating their food and one where the father wanted to watch me take a bath"

Max noticed Dal and Wendy had quietly seated themselves on the lower steps to listen but he stayed where he was.

“Then there was Butch’s. He bought me my own bike. I had a bed with sheets.” She threw up her hands and angrily swiped at a tear that threatened to fall. “I’d never had a bed with sheets before, let alone my own room. They bought me clothes and brought me to school. They let me take a bath every day. By myself.” She took a shuddering breath. “And they remembered to feed me, which my mother never did.

“Eventually, when Erin was ready to have her baby, they got rid of me,” she shrugged, like she could shake the hurt off but it wasn’t that easy. "When my mom got out of jail I had just turned sixteen. She told everyone she found God in jail and they all believed her."

She trailed off then, looking away and absently scratching her palms.

"But she didn't?" Dal asked quietly.

She turned back to him with a questioning look. Like she was contemplating something.

"I’d been shuffled from home to home at that point. The social worker thought I’d do better with a family member but after a while she started locking me in a closet." Wendy sucked in a breath but Rosie let out a dry chuckle. "I didn't mind it so much. I was used to being alone. I liked knowing where all the walls were around me. There were no surprises in there. After a while, when I kept seeing ghosts, she tried to exorcise me, like I was possessed or something."

Rosie looked up at him and spoke directly to him.

"One night, when the closet wasn't doing what she wanted it to do, she dragged me out and branded her crucifix into my chest."

"Oh, my God," Wendy whispered.

He'd seen the scar. No wonder why she always blew off telling him how she got it.

"When I fought against her she wrapped her hands around my throat and choked me. I uh," she struggled then. For the first time in her retelling she hesitated.

Max climbed the steps and sat next to her, without a word pulling her hand into his. Rosie followed his every move with her eyes and squeezed his hand when held hers.

She took another breath and looked away. For a while she just looked out at the barn and he wondered if she was even going to continue.

"I remember the edges all turning fuzzy," she said quietly, still looking away. "I thought it would be different there. I thought I’d see the other side but there was nothing for me there, no one waiting. Next thing I knew, I was waking up in the hospital and everything was different. I was different. I could see things. I knew things."

"I thought you always could see things," Max asked when she stopped talking.

When she turned to look at him her eyebrows furrowed and she tilted her head, watching him.

"I could," she answered distractedly. She shook her head and then turned her head to look at Dallas and Wendy. "I used to see like colored mists around people. They were all different but everyone had one. When I woke up it wasn't misty anymore it was like thick fog. Dense and almost heavy." She shook her head. "I can't explain it. And I could hear things. Grocery lists, school pickup plans." She shrugged. "Things I didn't want to hear."

"What happened to your mom?" Dallas asked.

"She told the police I attacked her. That I'd gone crazy and she was defending herself. She petitioned to have me committed. Butch was at my hearing.” She shook her head and angrily wiped at her eyes. Max squeezed her hand but didn't interrupt. "He testified that he'd sent me to numerous therapists but none of them were able to help me. They couldn't fix me."

She looked up at him and her lip wobbled.

"I didn't know I was broken. Until then at least. Anyway, he testified and walked out of the courtroom and never looked back. They approved the petition and I went to Coleman."

"A mental hospital," Dallas clarified.

She nodded. "It's not a hospital. It's a prison. It's torture. They didn't care for any of us. They drugged us and mistreated us. They were cruel. Hateful. After the first week, they stopped giving me injections and started giving me pills. I stopped swallowing them. One night I snuck out."

"Is it really that easy to break out of a place like that?" Dal asked.

"Not really," she answered vaguely. "I broke into Butch's house that night. I knew he had cash in his office. I took it and left town, bought a new identity. I never had to do much to hide because my hair changed on its own, like it knew I needed to look different."

"But he found you," Max said, hating to think about it. "In Virginia."

"Listen guys," she looked at them all. "I'm not like you. I've lived on the street. Like, literally, on the street. I've eaten out of dumpsters. I stole food when I needed to. I did what I had to do to get by. I’m not proud of everything I did." She held up her hands in a helpless gesture. "Butch caught up to me in one of my lower moments. That was the last time I saw him before the other day."

"Rosie," Dal started.

She shook her head and held her hand out to him. Max held in the urge to smack Dal's hand away when he grabbed hers back.

"No. That's on me. You did exactly what I thought you'd do if you found out. You're a cop, he's a cop."

"You're my friend. I should have come to you first."

She quirked her lips a little. "Doesn't matter." She let his hand go. "The point is, I don't want to be Happy anymore. I really want to leave her behind."

Max slid his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close to him. "I think Happy was really brave and smart despite being dealt a shit hand in life."

"I want Rosie to learn to fix things." She looked at them all. "I don't want to be afraid all the time. I want to learn how to be normal. Although, I admit that's going to be difficult given the things I can see."

* * *

Rosie looked behind Wendy to see Grandma Murphy standing there, a pleased smile on her face.

The big Santa dude stood near Dallas looking impressed.

They were back.

Wendy's aura was pulsing with a melancholy gray.

Dallas's a bright royal blue.

It was all back.

When the telling of her story was complete, she noticed things changing. She still felt the encompassing peace she felt around Max but she was herself again.

Knowing that she’d missed her gifts and hated being without them made her smile. The relief was overwhelming. She was herself again and she was okay with that.

She laughed and felt a shift in the air. They were all looking at her like she'd lost her mind.

God, they were so perfect for her. Their auras were colorful and complex, complete and full bodied. She had friends and someone to love.

She kept laughing, hands over her face.

Being herself had never felt so good.

She was free for the first time in her life. Absolutely and completely free.

"What did we miss?" Max asked, a small smile on his face.

Without care she leaned over and pressed a kiss to his mouth. He didn't hesitate to kiss her back.

She was still smiling when she pulled back and finally, Max was too.

"It's back," she told them. "It's all back."

"The…" Dallas waved his hands without finishing the sentence.

She looked back at the ghost of his grandfather. The spirit rolled his eyes at Dallas and turned to Grandma Murphy. The older woman looked at her grandchildren and then back to Rosie.

"Congratulations, dear." With a sage nod of her head she said, "It's good to see you again. Come John."

They both blinked out and were gone. Rosie smiled.

"Does this mean I'm not blocking you anymore?" Max asked, confused.

He was exactly who she needed in her life, supportive yet challenging, intelligent and interesting, willing to step outside his comfort zone but still there no matter what.

The change hadn't come from Max. The auras had come back when she'd laid herself bare to them. When she'd lifted that burden by sharing it, everything had come back.

"It was never you," she muttered, stunned the realization.

All the time, she'd thought it was Max blocking her. After all, it started after her run in with the woman and when she and Max had gotten close. But that hadn't been what shut her down.

She'd built walls so thick even she couldn't penetrate them.

"It was me," she admitted. "I was blocking myself."

"Yourself?" Max sounded just as bewildered as she did.

"Is that a thing?" Wendy asked. "Blocking yourself?"

They all exchanged confused looks which made Rosie laugh again.

Max pulled her closer, his arm around her shoulders and kissed her on the head.

"I could get used to hearing you do that."

Dallas stood up and held a hand out to Wendy. "I think we'll leave you guys alone for the night."

She took his hand and stood. Rosie and Max followed suit.

Dallas climbed the few steps and wrapped his arms around her. He was bigger than Max and Rosie noted that his body was fuller as she slipped her arms around his waist.

"Don't be an idiot." His voice was gruff. "No more running."

Happy, she squeezed him around the middle. "No more running."

"Okay, break it up. My turn." Wendy said annoyed.

When he let her go Wendy wasted no time wrapping Rosie in her arms.

"Chicks before dicks, honey. If you ever need me..”

They separated and within minutes they were driving away in Dallas' truck.

* * *

Rosie turned to Max and found him watching her with a small smile. It had been him that ultimately made her get off the bus.

She'd been sitting on that bus feeling sorry for herself when she'd replayed the night they’d made love. Not just the sex but the intimacy, the love they shared. That was real. That was her reality. She was stupid for running from it. She should have been running toward it. That love is what would save her from herself.

"What are you smiling about?" He asked.

She looked at his bright, caramel eyes and permanent five o'clock shadow and she just knew. Now was the time.

"I came back for you," she shook her head, knowing that wasn't quite right. "I came back because I was sitting on the bus watching Jacob's beach pass me by and I thought to myself, who runs from love? Where are you going? When someone loves you the way you love me, you don't run. And I don't want to run anymore. I want to be loved," she thought for a second. "This isn't coming out right."

"Sounds right to me," Max lifted a hand and held her cheek. "It sounds perfect to me."

"I want to be loved by you," she told him softly. "I want to love you back."

"Do you? Love me back?"

Without having to think about it she nodded. "I do."

"I knew it," he said softly before lowering his lips to hers.

Always so easy, she thought as she let herself be loved by Max.

Maybe Jay was right. Just because it was easy doesn't mean it can't be true.

* * *

"Tell me again."

Rosie felt Max's hand, rough and hot slide up her back. The smile that came to her face as she woke up reminded her of how they’d spent their night. In bed, laughing and loving each other until the sun rose.

She told him, without opening her eyes or lifting her head from the pillow the truth she'd been telling him all night.

"I love you, Max."

The blankets shifted and his body went from lying next to her to covering her, his hard length resting on her backside.

"I love you, too," he whispered, nipping at the back of her ear. "But I'm hungry. I need sustenance."

His hips pressed forward and she felt him hard against her.

"You don't feel like you need sustenance." Rosie smiled and buried her face in the pillow.

She had never, in her life, felt so complete. This had to be what happiness felt like. She had nothing to compare it to, but this had to be it. Right?

Max laughed and she felt the vibration through her hold body.

"Let's go eat, woman. It's almost noon and I'm hungry.” He kissed his way down her spine and stopped at the small of her back. "Then we'll come back to bed."

It took them ten minutes to make it downstairs between getting dressed and getting distracted with each other. Max carried her down the stairs on his back, his hands holding her thighs, chatting all the while. He'd barely said anything about the events of the day before, seemingly letting all the bad things go and only taking in the end result.

Rosie contemplated how easy it had all been while Max plopped her butt on the counter and made them coffee.

"Why so quiet all of a sudden?" He asked as he brought two mugs to where she was sitting and stood between her legs.

She took her mug and blew across the top. "You haven't said much about yesterday."

"Weird day," was all he said, never taking his eyes off her.

Max was like that, casual yet direct. She loved that about him, it made him easier for her to understand.

"I just," she tried to find the right words.

"I'm gonna screw it up again," he told her. "Probably a bunch of times, I'm gonna screw up."

"Me too," she admitted. That's what she'd done when she ran and hopped on a bus. "I've never done this before."

"I don't want to harp on stuff we already talked about yesterday. I'm sure it'll come up again but I can leave it behind us.” He watched her carefully. "Can you?"

She shrugged. "I want to. It's just been who I am for so long."

He nodded. "I get that. When you screw up, just come back to me."

Rosie put her mug down and slid her arms around his shoulders and let him hold her. She closed her eyes and let his aura, green like fresh grass surround her. She couldn't see her own aura but she hoped it was something that complimented his.

She opened her eyes, planning to tell him she could feel his aura, but she never got the chance, her spine stiffening.

"What?" Max asked, his voice sounding muffled.

Rosie pulled back, staring into the backyard. Helene was there, standing beside Max's tool shed. The woman raised her hand and made a motion that Rosie didn't understand at first, but then it hit her.

She was being carried. Someone's shoulder was digging into her stomach, every step torture. Her hands were dangling below her head and tere was a wet sucking sound every time the person carrying her took a step.

"So stupid," he muttered. "So stupid, Helene."

The wet sucking sounds continued.

Step. Step. Step.

The air was hot, sticky and humid. Her hair swung back and forth, wet and clumped together.

Then she was falling, farther down than she could have imagined. Her back hit the cold mud and it seeped through the back of her shirt. Her lungs were empty, there was no wind to knock out of them and her sightless eyes stared up at the sky above.

She was in a shallow grave and above her trees shadowed her killer as he crouched above. She got a good look at his face then. Not through the water as he held her down and not as he came to her in the form of a dog, but the man. Large in stature with a thick beard he looked almost like a lumberjack. Dark eyes, stared moodily down at her.

"God, dammit," his voice was pained. "Why couldn't you just love me."

Was he crying? Rosie blinked, surprised she was still alive.

He shot up and stared into the hole, horror on his face.

"You're alive?" He hurriedly took his coat off and threw it in at her, covering her face. Before it landed, as if in slow motion, she saw the letters EML embroidered on the lapel. "Stop looking at me!"

It was dark then and she knew it was the end. Dirt quickly rained down on her.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this. You were supposed to leave him. This is all your fault."

The dirt kept coming. She'd known all along that he wanted her, that he'd stop at nothing to get to her. She'd known he was crazy.

And now, he was burying her alive.

* * *

Rosie startled, shaking her head and looking around. How had she not seen that part before? Had she not witnessed Helene's death the first time? Had that only been a part of what had happened?

"What happened?" Max's voice was serious and concerned. "Where'd you go."

"He buried her alive," she met his eyes. "Out on one of those islands."

She was so certain. Something about the way the trees stood above her, the way the water seeped into the hole she was in. Somehow, she just knew, Helene was out there, somewhere.

"Who did?"

"The man. The one that killed her," she realized then how much she hadn't told Max and how much she'd held back. "I see him in my dreams sometimes. You and I," she shook her head not sure how to explain it. "In my dreams we're a family. There's a little boy-"

"Jack," Max filled in.

She looked at him, confused.

He quirked a smile. "I'm starting to get how all this works. Keep going."

"We're in the kitchen. Jack gives me flowers. Then he comes in, but he's not him, sometimes he's him but sometimes-"

"The man," Max clarified.

"He's a dog."

"A dog?"

"Baring his teeth and growling. It's almost like he stalks me for a few minutes and then he jumps at me," she shrugged. "Then I wake up."

“What do you think it means?”

“I think he wanted her. I think he came into her life and was a companion of sorts.” That had to be how the dog-centric dreams came into play. He placed himself at her side, or the family’s side, as a caring partner. In the end, he was none of those things. “Like a dog would, he stayed by their side. He became their companion but, he wanted Helene and when she didn’t want him back he killed her.”

Max ran his hands through his hair and blew out a breath. “This is way more than I think we can handle. What are we supposed to do? Go dig random holes on those islands? There must be fifteen of them.”

“I think I’d know it if I saw it,” she told him. “I think we need to call in the troops and go out there on those kayaks like we originally planned to do.

“Are you sure?” He asked. “Last time,”

She shrugged and leaned in, kissing him and leaving him speechless. “Last time, I wasn’t sure about anything. This time is different.”

“Well, I’m exactly where I was last time. I’m with you, no matter what you want to do.”

She smiled and hopped off the counter. “I know.”