Dear Rosie,: Love Letters Book Two, page 1
DEAR ROSIE,
LOVE LETTERS BOOK TWO
S. J. TILLY
Dear Rosie,
Love Letters Book Two
Copyright © S.J. Tilly LLC 2024
All rights reserved.
First published in 2024
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. All characters in this publication other than those clearly in the public domain are fictitious, and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Cover: Lori Jackson Design
Model Image: Wander Aguiar Photography
Editors: Jeanine Harrell, Indie Edits with Jeanine
& Beth Lawton, VB Edits
CONTENTS
Untitled
Prologue – Rosie
Nathan
Rosie
Rosie
1. Rosalyn
2. Nate
3. Rosalyn
4. Nate
5. Rosalyn
6. Nate
7. Rosalyn
8. Nate
9. Rosalyn
10. Nate
11. Rosalyn
12. Nate
13. Rosalyn
14. Nate
15. Rosalyn
16. Nate
17. Rosalyn
18. Nate
19. Rosalyn
20. Nate
21. Rosalyn
22. Nate
23. Rosalyn
24. Nate
25. Nate
26. Rosalyn
27. Nate
28. Rosalyn
29. Nate
30. Rosalyn
31. Nate
32. Rosalyn
33. Nate
34. Rosalyn
35. Nate
36. Rosalyn
37. Nate
38. Rosalyn
39. Nate
40. Rosalyn
41. Rosalyn
42. Nate
43. Rosalyn
44. Nate
45. Rosalyn
46. Nate
47. Rosalyn
48. Nate
49. Rosalyn
50. Nate
51. Rosalyn
52. Nate
53. Rosalyn
54. Nate
55. Rosalyn
56. Nate
57. Rosalyn
58. Nate
59. Rosalyn
60. Nate
61. Rosalyn
62. Nate
63. Rosalyn
64. Nate
65. Rosalyn
66. Nate
67. Rosalyn
68. Nate
69. Rosalyn
Chapter 70
71. Nate
Chapter 72
73. Rosalyn
74. Nate
Chapter 75
76. Rosalyn
Chapter 77
78. Nate
79. Nate
80. Rosalyn
81. Nate
82. Rosalyn
83. Nate
84. Rosalyn
85. Rosalyn
86. Nate
87. Rosalyn
88. Nate
89. Rosalyn
90. Rosalyn
91. Nate
92. Rosalyn
93. Nate
94. Rosalyn
95. Nate
96. Rosalyn
97. Nate
98. Rosalyn
99. Nate
100. Rosalyn
101. Nate
102. Rosalyn
103. Nate
104. Rosalyn
105. Nate
106. Rosalyn
107. Rosalyn
108. Nate
109. Rosalyn
110. Nate
111. Rosalyn
112. Nate
113. Rosalyn
114. Nate
115. Rosalyn
116. Nate
117. Rosalyn
118. Nate
119. Rosalyn
120. Nate
121. Rosalyn
122. Rosalyn
123. Nate
124. Rosalyn
125. Nate
126. Rosalyn
127. Nate
128. Rosalyn
129. Nate
130. Rosalyn
131. Nate
132. Rosalyn
133. Rosalyn
134. Nate
135. Nate
136. Rosie
137. Nate
138. Rosalyn
139. Nate
140. Rosalyn
141. Nate
142. Rosie
143. Nathan
144. Rosie
Epilogue 1 – Nathan
Epilogue 2
Maddox Lovelace
Nate Waller
Rosie Waller
Untitled
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by S. J. Tilly
This book is dedicated to the hard days.
And to the people who drag us through them and out the other side.
Because there is another side.
CONTENT WARNING
CONTAINS MAJOR SPOILERS
If you want to go in blind, but have concerns about a specific tr!gger, please feel free to email me at sjtillyauthor@gmail.com (There is no sexual abuse or sexual assault in this book.)
This is a contemporary romance that has major underlying themes of trauma and abuse. This book contains the graphic death of a parent (on and off page) and parental abuse—verbal, emotional and physical. One of the main characters experiences negative self-talk and suicidal ideation.
If you or someone you know is experiencing suicidal thoughts, please remember that your life is worth saving and call 988 for help.
And if you suspect that a child you know is suffering from abuse or neglect, you can call the Childhelp National Child Abuse Hotline at 1-800-422-4453
PROLOGUE – ROSIE
(AGE EIGHT)
The surface is warm under my palm as I press the back door closed.
It clicks. And I wait. But there’s no shouting from the other side.
I exhale.
Then I turn and run.
My stained sneakers are quiet on the grass. The overgrown lawn silencing my escape.
I’m sure mowing will become a chore of mine, but I’m not big enough yet.
Maybe next year.
But that’s a next-year problem. And I have enough problems already, so there’s no point in wasting time thinking about a future one.
I slow as I reach the chain-link fence.
The little can of grease I stole from the gas station keeps the gate from creaking as I carefully push it open.
My shirt already has one tear, so I’m careful not to catch it on the broken piece of wire as I shimmy through.
Once the gate swings closed, I let my cheeks puff out on my exhale, the final obstacle done.
It’s a little later than I usually meet Nathan, but he’ll wait.
He always does.
A stick crunches under my foot, and I hurry through a few more steps until the forest surrounds me.
I breathe in the air.
It’s dirt and grass and that freshness you can only get outside.
Once I’m about twenty feet in, I turn right.
My house is the second to last one on my end of the street, two stories of… bad.
Nathan’s house is all the way on the other end of the street. It’s on a big corner lot, and it’s really nice.
I’ve never been inside, but I’ve studied it from the back, wishing my bus route went past it so I could look at the front unnoticed. But someday I’ll see the inside.
When our friendship isn’t a secret anymore.
I smile at the thought.
I bet it smells like flowers inside.
I bet his mom is nice. She probably puts snacks out.
Lost in my daydream, I don’t realize I’ve reached the meeting spot until I see Nathan’s bright white shirt.
He’s sitting on the thick log—where we’ve scraped the bark off to make the sitting part smoother—with his head lowered.
I bite down on my smile when I see the bag of marshmallows beside him.
It’s become a tradition, him bringing the fluffy snack.
He’s shown up with them every couple of weeks, ever since he found out they were my favorite.
“Hey.” I keep my voice quiet, like I always do, as I step into the little clearing we made around the log.
“Hey.” Nathan digs the toe of his shoe into the dirt, still keeping his gaze down.
He’s gotten taller in the last year.
When I boost myself up onto the log, my sneakers dangle several inches above the ground.
I start to reach for the open bag between us, but I pause, noticing the flattened marshmallow in Nathan’s hand.
“You okay?” I ask. Nathan never wastes food.
He shrugs.
And my stomach starts to twist.
Nathan has been my best friend for two years. And I’ve never felt this weird sort of feeling from him before.
“What’s wrong?” I start to shift toward him, but then he stands.
“I gotta tell you something.”
That twisting inside me starts to hurt.
He still won’t look at me, his face aimed toward the ground.
I swallow, my throat suddenly dry, and I watch the way the tree-filtered light hits his hair.
I stare at the shades of brown, feeling the sudden need to memorize them.
As the silence stretches, I slide off the log.
I want to stand if he’s standing.
“What do you need to tell me?” I whisper.
Nathan’s shoulders lift as he takes a deep breath.
But he still doesn’t speak.
My nerves are on fire.
Whatever this is, it isn’t going to be good.
“Please tell me,” I say so quietly that I’m not sure he hears me.
Then he lifts his head, and I finally get to see his face.
He looks… sad. Like the kind of sad you feel at a funeral.
Oh god, I hope his mom didn’t die too.
I take a step toward him.
But then he speaks. “We’re moving.”
My feet stop.
I shake my head. I didn’t hear him right. “What?”
“I wanted to tell you.” Nathan’s brows push together like he’s in pain. “I just didn’t know how.”
Panic starts to well up inside me.
Move?
Nathan’s going to move?
“Off our street?” I ask.
Nathan keeps his lips pressed together as he nods.
We won’t be able to meet in the woods anymore.
My heart beats faster. “Out… out of town?”
Nathan nods again.
My knees tremble.
Out of town means I won’t even see him on the bus.
I clench my hands into fists. “Are you still going to be in Wisconsin?”
Maybe if he’s still in the state, I could see him at football games or something. He’ll be in high school soon. And I know he’ll play varsity.
But then Nathan makes it worse. “We’re going to Ohio.”
The backs of my legs bump into the log.
I hadn’t even realized I was backing away from him.
Ohio.
I don’t know how far away Ohio is from Wisconsin. But I know it’s far. Far enough that if he goes… I’ll never see him again.
A weight presses down on my chest.
“When?” I choke out.
Maybe… maybe if I have enough time, I can convince his mom to bring me with them.
If I can just meet her, let her get to know me, she might like me.
And then his mom will want me to come.
Even if it’s just for a little bit.
“Tomorrow.”
Nathan’s reply pierces straight into my heart.
Tomorrow.
That panic inside me flares into an inferno.
There’s no time to make his mom like me.
There’s no time.
Tears rush down my cheeks.
“P-please don’t leave me.” I clutch my hands in front of my chest, begging him to stay.
Nathan’s expression crumples. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to go.”
My lungs struggle to fill.
This is… this is the worst thing that could happen to me.
“You can’t go,” I choke out. “My dad—”
My words cut off, my voice failing me.
Like it does every time.
Nathan steps toward me. “What about your dad?”
I shake my head, pinching my eyes shut.
I shouldn’t have said that.
The time I actually open my mouth… the one time I dare to say something… is when Nathan is leaving.
Nathan is leaving me.
My only friend.
That funeral sadness drapes across me. And it makes me feel hot all over.
“Nathan!” His mom’s voice filters through the woods, and I blink in that direction.
It’s time for him to go have dinner with his family.
The night before they leave.
I press my hands against my shirt, over my heart. Pushing to keep it in.
I was late getting here, and now he has to leave.
Forever.
“Rosie.” Nathan steps so he’s right in front of me.
So close.
And so close to becoming out of reach.
He puts his hand on my shoulder. “Does… does your dad hurt you?”
Why now?
Inside, I scream at myself.
Why does this have to happen now?
Why now, when he’s so close to disappearing from my life, why does Nathan have to ask this question now?
More tears stream from my eyes.
Why has no one else ever asked me this before now?
I shake my head.
There’s no point in telling him.
His mom shouts again.
Nathan looks over his shoulder, then back at me. “Rosie, does he hurt you?”
I shake my head, slower this time, and answer with the best truth I have. “Not like that.”
I can hear the defeat in my tone.
“What does that mean?” He tightens his grip on my shoulder.
But then his mom yells again.
He has to go.
Nathan has to go.
We both know it.
Nathan clenches his teeth.
I’m still crying.
I can’t stop crying.
But they’re silent tears now.
The kind you can’t control.
The kind you can barely feel.
The ones that just come and come and don’t stop.
“You have to go.” My words come out scratchy.
“I don’t want to.” Nathan’s tone is so sincere that it makes everything worse.
I try to shrug. Because he might not want to. But he will.
Everyone leaves.
Nathan steps back, his hand slipping free from my shoulder.
The place where his palm was feels cold.
“I’m sorry, Rosie.”
His mom shouts his name, sharper this time.
Nathan’s mouth twists, his hazel eyes full of words, but he doesn’t say any of them.
He turns. And walks away.
And I stand there. Watching him leave me.
He looks back over his shoulder, his eyes meeting mine one last time, then he disappears into the trees.
When he’s out of sight, I lean against the log and lower myself until my butt hits the ground.
The damp earth soaks into my jeans. But I don’t care. Because my favorite person in the whole world is moving. And I know what that means.
I’ll never see Nathan Waller again.
NATHAN
(AGE 12)
Not like that.
What did she mean?
How could she say that so… normal? Like hurting her in any sort of way was okay.
The pizza I forced myself to eat for dinner churns in my stomach.
Mom knows I like to play in the woods, but she doesn’t know I’ve been spending all my time with a girl. I don’t know if she’d freak out, but there’s no point in telling her now.
She was mad that I took so long to come back to eat, but then she just gave me a hug. I guess she could tell I was sad about moving.
I look out my bedroom window to the woods behind my house.
It was almost two years ago that I stumbled across Rosie in that forest.
I was just walking around, bored, and she was sitting on the ground, building a little house out of broken sticks. I was impressed and wanted to try building one myself, so I asked if I could sit down with her, and that was that. Almost every day since, even in the winter, we’d meet in the woods.
None of my friends at school know about her. She’s younger, so they wouldn’t know her.
I frown at the woods.
It’s like no one knows about Rosie. I never hear anyone say her name. And she never talks about anyone else. And that makes my stupid heart ache.
Because Rosie is amazing. She’s funny and smart and easy to talk to.
She’s my best friend.
And I’m never going to see her again.
I stand.
No.
I can’t just give in like that.
I can’t never see Rosie again.
I need to at least say goodbye.
I never said goodbye.
Moving around the boxes piled in my room, I rush out into the hall.
My feet fly down the stairs, and I grip the banister at the bottom to spin me toward the front door.
“Where’re you going?” Dad hollers.
“Just gotta run down the street.” I shove my shoes on. “I’ll be right back.”
Before Dad can tell me not to, I open the front door and run out.
I’m on the sidewalk before I realize what I’m doing.
I should go to the woods. It’s the only place we’ve ever met.
