Love Unbreakable by Bank Brook

Roscoe Roscoe grasped Nicole's ankle gently, yet his touch was steady and did
not interfere with his task.

Clad in disposable plastic gloves, Roscoe applied an ointment that brought a
cooling relief and numbed the pain.

The sensation was so comforting that Nicole found her toes involuntarily curling,
her pulse thudding audibly in her ears.

Roscoe's expression remained detached throughout the procedure.

Once he finished with the ointment, he discarded his gloves in the trash bin,
along with the porridge Jarrod had brought, without

a second glance.

He exited briefly, returning with a thermos in hand, and proceeded to elevate the
bed.

"Nicole, would you prefer to feed yourself, or shall I assist?" he inquired, his
politeness unwavering.

Nicole, still somewhat dazed from the treatment, only registered his question
when he repeated it.

She reached out slowly.

"I can manage on my own.” As her fingers brushed against his, Roscoe insisted,
“Stay still.

I'll handle this.” Roscoe set up a small table, expertly transferred the porridge into
a bowl, and fetched a spoon.

Nicole couldn't help but notice the pristine beauty of his hands, his nails short and
clean, his veins subtly pronounced against his

clenched fists, signaling strength.

Her cheeks flushed with heat.

This wasn't the first time he had tended to her wounds.

As Roscoe handed her the spoon, Nicole's hunger surged, especially for the
shrimp-corn porridge, her favored dish.

She began to eat with an earnest appetite.

After the meal, Roscoe cleaned up the table and returned the bed to its original
position.

“You should rest now, Nicole.

I'l be here to look after you,” he offered.

But Nicole's head shook in denial.

"No, Roscoe." Roscoe's gaze was intense as he watched her silently.

Nicole turned her face away, not daring to look at him.

She said, "My father’s support for your education was one thing.

You don't owe me for the help you've given.

You see, anyone entangled with me lately seems to suffer.” Roscoe listened
without a flicker of emotion across his face.

When Nicole paused, he voiced his thoughts, "Nicole, I was disheartened when
you didn't recognize me before.” Nicole recalled

their encounter at the hospital's safe corridor, but her mind was a haze back then,
thanks to Jarrod, leaving no space for Roscoe's image. The last she'd seen
Roscoe, he was a young teen of fifteen, one of many in a crowd where her father
had taken her to aid the underprivileged, and Roscoe hardly stood out. She didn't
remember him. Six years had passed by. Now, Roscoe was an intern at the
hospital. Gazing down at her, Roscoe probed, "Nicole, do you love that man?”
Her response came swift and sure. “No.” It was only at this moment that Nicole
grasped the truth. Her affections had clung to an untainted Jarrod, not the
monster who refused to let her parents go without a second thought. Caught in a
reverie, Nicole felt Roscoe's touch steering her gaze back to him. "Nicole, I
dressed your wounds, hoping you'd understand my intentions,” he murmured.
Roscoe's eyes were clear and compelling, making Nicole find it hard to stand his
gaze. Sensing his next words, Nicole averted her eyes.

She didn't want to drag anyone else into her turmoil. Thus, before Roscoe could
voice his thoughts, Nicole interjected, "Roscoe, to me, you're like a little brother.
Though I hold no love for him, my bond with him is complex. You've turned out
well, and that would please my father. Let's leave it at that..." With that, Nicole
suggested they keep things as they were, effectively rejecting him.

Just as Nicole tried to turn her face away, Roscoe grabbed her arm gently.

He remained silent, gazing at her briefly.

Suddenly, Roscoe bowed his head, halting just before his thin lips met Nicole's.
With a soft grin and a whisper, Roscoe vowed, "Nicole, once I surpass that man,
you will be mine.” Left alone, Nicole's mind

reeled.

What the hell? In her eyes, Roscoe was still a little boy.

But now, his words somewhat unsettled her.

On a Friday morning, Raegan got a message from Bryce, requesting her address
to pick her up.

She sent her location to him.

She made her way downstairs after learning Bryce’s arrival.

A few paces from the door, she spotted a black off- road vehicle.

Bryce lounged in the passenger seat, beckoning her over with a curled finger.
Raegan pulled open the door and climbed aboard. To her surprise, Eloise was
seated in the back, her presence almost tangible with hostility. Eloise’s eyes
narrowed at the sight of Raegan. She turned to Bryce, questioning sharply,
"Bryce, is she your tutor?" Bryce merely grunted in response.

The air was thick with tension. Eloise harbored dislike toward Raegan, and
Raegan disliked Eloise's presence. Raegan took a seat, pressing herself against
the door, creating as much distance as possible from Eloise.

Eloise’s gaze landed on Raegan’s modest backpack and her lips twisted into a
sardonic smile.

“Are you going to have a trip like this?” she taunted.

Raegan simply nodded.

Eloise’s laughter rang out, tinged with malice.

Anticipation for the weekend's adventure began to bubble within Eloise.

As the vehicle pulled away, Raegan's eyes drifted to the front row, where Mitchel
took the wheel.

Mitchel had swapped his usual suit for a casual navy windbreaker and
sunglasses, his new attire lending him an air of rugged

charm.

Taking in Bryce's and Eloise’s outfits, a realization dawned on Raegan.

They were headed for a mountain trek.

Yet, Bryce had kept this from her, no doubt to throw her off balance.

Determined to make the best of the situation, Raegan decided against
overthinking.

She rested her head against the window, feigning sleep.

The journey was long, and perhaps thanks to Mitchel's skilled driving, Eloise
drifted into sleep, her head resting against the

window.

As for Raegan, she remained awake with her eyes closed, acutely aware of
Eloise's head now resting against her shoulder.

To avoid any awkward eye contact with Mitchel, Raegan continued to feign sleep,
resisting the urge to shove Eloise away.

After a while, the car's consistent motion made Raegan feel inclined to nap.

She mused on how Mitchel's driving had changed since Eloise entered the
picture, his earlier haste replaced by a considerate

pace.

Upon arriving, Raegan stirred from her light doze.

Unlike Eloise, who was deeply asleep, head on Raegan's lap, arms encircling her
waist.

Raegan nudged Eloise, who remained unresponsive.

Suddenly, the back door swung open.

Mitchel loomed into view, tapping Eloise's back to wake her up.

But Eloise, disoriented from her abrupt awakening, lashed out with a slap across
Raegan's face.