Falling In Love With My Mother's Man

Rose POV

"Mom."

She roused softly on the bed, turning to face me in the dimly lit room. Her eyes blinked repeatedly, like she was trying to place me.

"Mom, it's me." I scooted closer, taking her hands in mine. "Rose. The doctors said you'd be awake soon, so I decided to stay a while."

The skin on her forehead wrinkled softly in confusion. Her lips parted open and then closed again. Dread settled deep in the pit of my stomach. Raw and brutal dread that made me shiver.

"Mom, please...."

"Who are you?" she croaked, her eyes darting towards the door and then returning to my hands, still holding onto hers. I could see the discomfort in her gaze as she tried to pull away.

"You're not supposed to be here."

"Mom, what do you mean?" I didn't think I could take another beat today. After Thanksgiving dinner with my boss and all that it came with, I was desperately praying for something good.

"Mom?" Her lips were blue and dry.

"It's Rose," I breathed shakily. "Your daughter. Remember me? I came with you the day you got your diagnosis. We have been best of friends since the moment I was born. Remember me, Mom."

I was practically begging, the salt from my tears grazing my lips.

"Rose?"

I nodded eagerly, a sad smile on my face, thinking she remembered. But when the slight frown settled again, I felt my little hope break into numerous heart-wrenching pieces.

My hand tightened around hers. "Mom!"

Wrong move, because in that split second, panic flared in her eyes. She pushed me away, hitting the red button by the side of the bed to alert the medical team.

"Mom, no!" I wailed.

"Stop calling me that," she groaned weakly, her words heavy with breath. "I'm not your mother. Please. Go! Go!"

"Oh, God!" I got on my feet, getting even closer to her. She became erratic the closer I got, her hands thrashing all over the place, fighting my hold on her.

"You're going to kill me," my mother wailed. "What do you want? I don't have any money on me. Who sent you?"

It hurt. It hurt so bad that I felt it course through my body.

The doors pushed open, and the lights from the hallway shone in. I saw the tears staining her cheeks, the tremble of her lips and her hands, her dilated pupils.

Oh God!

Footsteps scurried in. I didn't know I was holding on to her so tightly until I felt a pair of warm hands wrap around my waist, pulling me away from her. I turned around into his arms, wailing into his chest.

It was embarrassing. There was a whole team of medical doctors in there, and the person who held me was probably one of them as well, but it didn't matter in that instant. I wanted my mom to remember me. I wanted to be there for her.

With her.

"Can you please take her out, Mr. Castel?" I heard someone ask behind me. "The patient is getting hysterical with her presence, and that's not good."

"But she's my..."

"Shhhhh."

The warm hands were yet to let go. Instead, they steered me in the direction of the door. My feet remained rooted to the ground, refusing to move. "I can't leave her!" I said desperately, trying to look at the person holding me. "You don't know her. Give me time. Give us time. She'll remember me, I promise."

"Rose, right?"

I paused when he said my name. There was something about it, about the deep baritone, the way it rolled off his tongue, the familiarity embedded in it, yet the strangeness all at the same time.

"Yeah," I murmured, stunned.

"Your mother needs some space right now. She's heavily dilated, in so much pain, and doesn't need this emotional distress added to it.

Can you understand that?"

He spoke to me slowly, accentuating every word like I was a child. Despite that, I nodded against his chest.

"Good girl," he murmured. "Let's head out."

I didn't turn back until we were in the lit hallway.

He'd taken his hands off me and kept a respectable distance. When I lifted my gaze off the ground and into his eyes, appreciation on my lips, every part of me froze.

"You."

Those blue eyes.

Confusion clouded his eyes for a few seconds before the realization settled. "Shit."

He tried approaching, tried touching my shoulder, but I raised my hands, pushing away from him. "Don't! Don't you dare touch me!

I might have been stunned back then, but I've had three good hours to think about how I was treated. And I don't want to listen to you. What the hell are you even doing here?"

Before he could respond, I tried to get past him, running towards the ward. But he caught up with me, his hand holding my waist and slamming my back hard into his chest. I waited for the feel of flesh, but all I felt was a solid wall.

He smelled like leather and oud.

"Let me go!" I yelled, hitting his hand. "I'm going to call the cops if you don't."

"They won't do anything," he responded calmly, and I immediately hated it. I hated that I sounded like a raging lunatic while he was graceful and calm behind me. Anyone who saw us would think I was the problem.

"Let me go!"

"Rose."

"And stop bloody calling me."

"I'm going to let go," he murmured slowly. "And you're going to turn around and head out with me. Very calmly."

"Why would I go anywhere with you?"

"Because I care for Emma as much as you care for her. And if you're anything she told me about, you'll be reasonable and have a conversation with me."

I stopped then, waiting for him to let go. Surprising myself, when I no longer felt his arms, I turned around slowly, looking up at him. Those eyes searched my face before landing on my eyes.

"Good girl."

Despite the situation, something clenched inside of me. I was too embarrassed to admit what part it was.

"There's a bar across the road. Let's talk there."

"How do you know my mother?"

Silence and a nudge was all I got as an answer to my question.