Rosalie
“Rosalie,” Ethan whispered.
I opened my eyes to his voice, his face only inches from mine. The dream I had been having disintegrated and fell back into the furthest recesses of my mind, the calm silence of sleep interrupted by background noise; papers rustling and the footsteps of someone unfamiliar walking by.
“Maeve’s awake. She’s alright. Troy is with the boys.”
“The boys? Oh—” I sat upright, expecting to feel pain, but I felt… nothing. I turned to Ethan slowly, gooseflesh prickling across my skin.
He smiled, tears welling in his eyes. “Everyone’s okay. Even the little one. He’s–he’s perfect, honey. I mean—” Ethan looked like he was about to cry. He was choking on the words.
I pulled him into me, my hand on the back of his head as he knelt between my knees. He crumbled
