It was Rosie.

Rosie Sweet.

Was he imagining it?

The gun in Blaine’s hand felt heavy and out of place as he stood there staring at the apparition. Her long hair floated in the breeze as she stared at him, the panic clear on her face.

“Blaine, please don’t.” Her voice trembled.

He looked down at the gun, wrapping his fingers more tightly around the handle as he resisted the urge to cry.

His shame was a thick blanket around him. They’d seen him naked. He couldn’t sink any lower.

“I can’t go back. I can’t face it.” He blinked at the stinging tears. “This is the only way for it to end.”

“No, it’s not.” Rosie stepped forward and he jerked back, his foot slipping on the wet rocks.

The water rushed behind him.

He glanced over his shoulder at the drop.

He’d no doubt survive.

That’s why jumping hadn’t been an option.

The gun was a necessity. One shot and he’d fall.

He would disappear. Forever.

“Blaine, look at me.”

Rosie’s voice called him back and he slowly turned to squint at her.

The sun was bright above them, the rays piercing the sparse canopy of leaves. The blue sky was a stark contrast to the dark storm of emotions in his chest.

“You don’t have to do this. There are other ways out.”

“How?” he whispered. “You don’t understand.”

“There’s only two months left, and then you’ll be free of these assholes. You can do it.”

“I can’t.” He sucked in a ragged breath and lost his battle to the tears. Covering his eyes with his hand, he let out a pitiful wail. “I can’t do it anymore.”

“I know it’s hard.” Rosie’s voice was raw. She sounded like she was crying too. “They’re horrible to you and you don’t deserve it, but if you shoot yourself right now, they’ll win.”

“I don’t care. They can win.”

“No!” Rosie’s shout made Blaine’s eyes pop open.

He dropped his hand and gaped at her.

“You can’t let them win! What does that mean for the next victim they target? Are you saying that everyone who gets tormented should just kill themselves?” Her wild gaze had him transfixed. “What about strength and resilience?”

“I don’t have those things.”

“Yes, you do! You have lasted for four years at Aspen High. Four years with those jerks hounding you. You’ve survived. You can’t give up this close to the finish line.”

“How do I go back?” Blaine stared at her, his cheeks streaked with tears. “They crossed a line today.”

“Yeah.” Rosie’s expression crumpled. “Yeah, they did. And they’ll get in trouble for it, and you’ll walk back into school tomorrow with your head held high. And you’ll ignore all the laughter and all the teasing, because in two months, you’ll be free. You’ll graduate and you’ll—”

“Do what?” Blaine snapped, gripping the gun. “I’m a loser. I’ll be a loser for life.”

“No, you won’t, because you’re not a loser now.” She pointed at him. “You’re strong and you’re gonna become someone they fear.” She was making it up as she went along. He could tell by the way she was struggling to get out the words and the pop of her eyes when an idea hit her. “I know what you should do. Become a cop. You become the best damn cop in Aspen Falls, and then you can arrest their sorry asses, because guys like Taylor and Howard Eckland the freaking second are gonna screw up. And you’ll be there. The strong, amazing Officer Blaine Hartford.”

She finished her speech with a stunning smile that made his heart turn. She’d always had that effect on him. She could turn his insides to putty without even looking at him, but to have her full attention directed at him was like a power surge through his system.

He let out a broken snicker. “You want me to become a cop?”

“Yeah.” She swallowed. “I want you to.”

“And what will you do?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know yet, but I’ll start by breaking up with Taylor. I know it’s not much, but it’s something, right?”

“It’s everything,” Blaine whispered, so softly she probably couldn’t hear him. Whether she would or not remained to be seen, but the fact that she was considering it gave him hope.

It was a feeling he hadn’t had in a long time.

But it was more than that. She thought he could be more than what he was. She saw something that no one else did.

He wished he could have a shot with her, but he knew he never would. In two months she’d be gone, just the way she always talked about.

Two months.

Two more months of hell.

He gazed back down at the gun, his stormy insides surging.

And then a hand landed on his. It was soft and delicate, gently prying the gun from his weakening grip.

Before he could say anything, she threw it over the waterfall.

He turned and watched it disappear.

Tiredness suddenly swamped him, weakening his knees. He started to buckle, but then caught himself.

“It’s okay,” Rosie whispered, wrapping her arms around him. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

He clung to her, sobbing like a baby, gripping her shirt like she was the only thing holding him steady.

She let him cry, rubbing his back and murmuring over and over, “It’s going to be okay.”

When his tears had subsided, she stepped back.

Although he should have felt ashamed of his tears, the experience had only strengthened him. He suddenly felt tall beside her. He’d always been the weedy kid with more bone than muscle, but for the first time ever, he was aware of his height.

With a sweet smile, Rosie took his hand and led him away from the waterfall and out of the forest.

She didn’t let go until they reached the street again. In a moment of awkward silence, they shared a smile, and then she turned and walked away.

His savior.

The ever-beautiful Rosie Sweet.