Finding Home | Finders Keepers #1✔️

Eight - Family Sick

When I was farther away from Jack and knew that he wouldn't follow me, I knew that somehow that the sound of the engine of a car that was following me wasn't his. It was the same car that was parked in front of Jack and I—I knew that I had to lose him.

It wasn't easy and that's why when I reached home, I was panting and sweaty which got the bald guy, Roman, asking me if I was taking a jog in the dress that I was wearing.

"No," I shake my head, rolling my eyes. "why would I jog in a dress when people would see my shorts under my dress?"

Roman smiles slowly. "Of course," he presses his hand to his temple. "why would I think like that? Well, why are you out of breath, Miss Murdock?"

My brain started to create a list of excuses that I could say but the answer pops up in my mind before I can even let out an excuse. "Why is this any of your business?" I snap, walking past him and going straight for the stairs. "I'm going to my room."

Before I can take more steps up, the door immediately opens and we turn to Christian, whose hair was wet and he wasn't wearing the jersey shirt and shorts but he was wearing his clothes before he changed, a smile on his face when he saw me.

"Hey, Rosalie, uh," he runs up to me, nodding in greeting to Roman. "can I talk to you for a second?"

Be nice. Be nice. Be nice.

Sighing, I nod. "Let's go to my room."

He follows me towards west wing, the sound of our footsteps covering the tension of silence between the two of us. When we reach my room, I open it with the keys that was given to me by Roman when I took it, pushing it open and opening the lights.

I drop my bag beside my bed, sitting down while I watch my biological brother stare in awe the painting that I've done. It was a mural of cityscapes and, like I said, it wasn't really finished yet. There were some pencil traces on top of the cityscapes and whoever would look at it wouldn't guess what it is until I actually put some color in it.

"Wow," his fingers trace the outlines of the buildings that I've done. "this is amazing, Rosalie. Is this what you draw most, cities?"

I nod. "Some are paintings of people—I used to paint actors and actresses whom I love from movies and television shows. Now, I just paint the people I care about."

Then, he turns to me, his fingers scratching the back of his head. A nervous tick, I suppose. He opens his mouth, closes it, and does it again for about three times before he finally gains the courage to tell me what he really wants to say. "Thank you for getting in between me and Kelly. I'm sorry too about him and Cassie. He doesn't exactly sees how toxic Cassie is."

My brows furrow in confusion.

"Oh, I know," he deadpans, smiling at me. "It's much better if you try to make nice. Kelly will eventually see who Cassie really is. Anyway, thanks again for what you did there and I'm sorry that I couldn't take your side."

Shaking my head, I can't help the smile on my face that was coming easily. Out of everything that I've done to him, I should definitely apologize. "I don't like it when people sort of give people an ultimatum. It didn't come out straight of his mouth but it was implied. Why didn't you take his side, anyway?"

He points at the free space of the bed beside me, brows raised in question. Pushing myself back, I pat at the space and he happily sits, the bed even shook as he sat. "I've known you for a couple of days. I've known Kelly since we were kids. But, despite me treating him like a brother, you are my sister and I didn't want to disappoint you."