There was an unwritten rule about working in an office. Things never remained a secret for long.

I knew Richie had told the others of the altercation at the coffee shop with sleazy Steve.

Not that I minded – much.

He had at least had the forethought to ask me first. If I had said no, I had little doubt that the office would have learned the truth soon enough. They always did. If not the truth, then something worse and even more outlandish.

I supposed it could have been fun to see what they came up with.

Instead, I had to live with the humiliating truth that they all knew about my failed attempt to date even if they hadn't witnessed it.

Still, not a single one of them brought it up. Perhaps that was some unwritten rule too. There were covert looks and quiet conversations though. The open knowledge that they were all talking about me behind my back.

There was something else too.

Something that just... changed. It happened so slowly, over a period of weeks, I hadn't even realised it was happening. 

It was fortunate that it had gone that way. If I had noticed sooner, I would have resisted. If I had seen those changes happening, maybe I would have put a stop to them before my co-workers had managed to infiltrate my life in small and irritating ways. In ways that, now I had gotten used to them, I didn't want to give up.

The biggest change was in myself. That had been gradual too and all down to them.

I walked a little taller. I didn't run from the room as quick as I had in the past. Though I tried to keep myself to myself, as I had for the past few years, others were less inclined to let me escape. 

In the mornings, Richie would meet me in the kitchen. An eternal morning person, he was the sunshine to my rainclouds. We'd make our first drink of the day side by side. He'd exchange pleasantries. I'd stand in resolute silence, only cracking a smile when he nudged my shoulder with his.

In the afternoons, Lindsey would perch on the edge of my desk and chatter about her daughter and her latest antics. Her face would light up every time, even if she tried to play the aggrieved parent.

Would my mum have had the same expressions on her face when she talked about me?

Probably not.

At one time, I might have thought so. Yet, the discovery that she had secrets - secrets upon secrets -  it made me question everything I thought I knew about our relationship. That horrible little box had tainted everything including the last good day my mum had had.

"What's got you so down today?" Richie asked, passing across the milk just as I stretched out my hand.

I blinked down at the bottle before picking it up. I tried not think about how well he knew my routine. I tried not think about how easy it was to be around him. The non-kiss had been relegated to things we didn't talk about. Secrets between us. Secrets we both would prefer to remain in the dark depths never to resurface again.

However, I was a prisoner to my own mind and anxieties. There were many occasions where those short minutes had replayed over and over again in my mind. It was a warning. A taunt just in case I got any more stupid ideas. Not going to happen, Rosie.

"Nothing," I replied, focusing intently on my tea.

His hand gently closed over mind, halting my movements. "You can talk to me, you know? We are friends -."

I raised both of my eyebrows. "Friends?"

He huffed and rolled his eyes. "Yes, friends. Whether you like it or not." He grinned. "Though, we all know you like being my friend. There's no point denying it."

My stomach fluttered. I would not examine it. I would not wonder why. Instead, my eyes dropped to his fingers curled around mine.

"Is it your mum?" He asked after a pause. My hand clenched tight beneath his. "Is she sick?"

"Can we not talk about this? Please."

"Rosie, I don't want to push but whatever is going on is eating you up inside."

"I don't need your pity."

"You are one of the most frustrating women I have ever met," he growled, running a hand through his hair. "It's not pity. It's called caring for another person."

I averted my gaze and drew in a shaky breath. I'm sure my hands were shaking too. I tried so hard to keep things bottled up where they belonged. But Richie? He just wanted to open that bottle top and let everything spill out.

Despite my delaying tactics, his eyes remained trained on the side of my face.

"Are we really doing this?" I asked with a sigh, peering up at him before glancing over his shoulder. My eyes focused on a mark on the painted wall behind him.

"Even you need someone to talk to."

"It's difficult," I said eventually. "There's just ... a lot. I can't even talk to my sister about it."

"I didn't realise you had a sister."

I snorted. "Why would you? We're not exactly best friends, Richie. We're just co-workers."

A flash of emotion dashed across his face. It moved across his features so quickly that I almost missed it. His fingers twitched around mine and, after a moment, he drew away. He tucked his hands into his pockets. Whatever barriers had vanished between us in the recent days and weeks had suddenly become ten foot tall. I had no one to blame but myself. It was all on me.

"Well, just as co-workers, I can listen if you need someone to talk to." His voice was sharp, his frustration carved into the deep furrows in his brow. He picked up his coffee cup, his eyes avoiding mine. "I should get going. I've got that thing to do."

"Thing?" I replied, watching as he started backing away. "Wait, Richie. I didn't mean."

"That's the thing, Rosie. You don't often mean things but, as someone who has tried to be your friend, I don't appreciate them being thrown back in my face." He turned, coffee cup in hand. "My cousin said hello by the way."

Bracing my hands on the side, I closed my eyes. Drawing in a deep breath, my stomach twisted and turned uncomfortably. Fuck. First mum and now him. How many more people was I going to hurt just because I thought I knew what was best?

"Well, that was painful to watch," Lindsey murmured, slipping into room with a smile.

"No one asked you to watch," I replied bluntly, removing the bag from my tea and dumping it into the bin.

"Okay, wow. Someone crawled out of the bed on the wrong side today."

"Lindsey, please stop." I replied, pleading with my eyes.

She shifted back a step and folded her arms across her chest. "Okay, I'll stop. But, Rosie? He's right, if you need someone to talk to, you can talk to us. We will listen."

"Thank you –."

"And please, speak to Richie. He likes you, you know." She said, her words heavy with meaning that I was in no headspace to even try to interpret. "Make up with him before I have to spend the day looking at his puppy dog expression."

I nodded my head.

"I will - ."

Before I could finish the thought, my ringtone jangled loudly between us. With unsteady hands, I pulled out my phone. The care home's phone number was emblazoned across the screen. I swiped to answer and pressed the device to my ear.

"Is this Rosie?"

"It is."

"Hi, Rosie. My name is Sheila and I'm calling from Three Oaks Residential Home about your mother, Evelyn. Unfortunately she's taken ill and is on route to the hospital as we speak." The woman reeled off the words professionally. And yet, it was what was not said. The heaviness in her tone.

"Where?"

"They're taking her to Saint Augustine's."

I nodded my head, all blood rushing down towards my feet along with my stomach. I staggered to the side, my hand catching the edge of the countertop as I tried to remain upright.

"How -? How bad is she?" I asked, my arm shaking as I held the phone to my ear.

There was brief pause before the woman replied softly, "I think you need to prepare yourself. They think it may be pneumonia and in her current condition - ."

My eyes squeezed closed. She didn't need to say it. With how far her disease had progressed in the past weeks and months, she might not be strong enough to fight it off.

Please not now. Please don't let her die. I'm not ready. I'll never be ready.

"Thank you for calling. I'll meet them at the hospital."

She said a few more placating words but I couldn't hear them. After a few long seconds, I pulled the phone away and then tucked it back into my pocket.

On autopilot, I dumped my tea into the sink, put the cup in the dishwasher, and turned to leave. It was only when a pair of hands rested on my shoulders, and Lindsey's face appeared before mine, that I realised she had been speaking to me.

"Is everything okay, Rosie?"

I shook my head, my eyes burning with unshed tears. I could only force out one word. "No."

She pulled me into a brief hug, a tight bear hug that was as uncomfortable as it was comforting.

"I can see you need to go but you're in no state to drive." She pulled back, her hands resting on my shoulders. "Wait here and we'll make sure you get there safely, okay?"

I nodded my head then glanced around me without truly seeing anything. My heart was pounding in my chest and my stomach twisted. Nausea rose within me.

Turning, I hurtled towards the bin and flipped open the lid. Leaning over, I wretched. The smell of banana skins and discarded food only made me heave more. I heaved until my stomach ached. Not that there was much to bring up.

The entire time, tears poured down my face. What if this was it? What if I was really losing her?

I had been losing her slowly for so damn long. And yet, it suddenly felt all too real. I couldn't lose her. Not now.

Hands carefully scooped up my hair and pulled it from my face. A hand gently rubbed at my back.

My stomach gave one last lurch before I forced myself upright, my hand shakily pressing to my mouth.

"Here you go," Richie said softly, passing a piece of kitchen towel over my shoulder.

"Thank you." I murmured, dabbing at my face and wishing desperately for mouth wash to clear the taste from my mouth.

I leaned back into Richie, weariness settling into my bones. His body was warm against my back. It felt good to have someone to lean on because my legs did not feel like they were capable of holding me too much longer. I was weak in both body and soul in that moment.

"I'm sorry," I muttered, wiping my face one last time and dumping it into the big. I closed the lid which did nothing to mute the smell.

"Sorry for what?"

"For what I said before. For the bin. Take your pick." I muttered, pulling away from his warm chest.

It took everything I had to step away from his arms, pull my armour on, and prepare for the fight ahead.

"Let's not worry about that." Richie replied, brushing off my apology. "I'll take you to the hospital. Jacob said I can stay with you as long as you need me."

It was on the tip of my tongue to say that I didn't need anyone. I had been saying it for as long as I could remember. And yet, I didn't say it. I couldn't say it. Instead, the bone deep exhaustion spoke for me.

"Thank you, Richie."