Love Unbreakable by Bank Brook

Chapter 453 Nicole pivoted and made her way to Roscoe's door.

Finding it unlocked, Nicole swung it open without a second thought. "Roscoe, what..." she began, but the sight before her cut her words short.

Roscoe was perched on a stool, clumsily dressing wounds that marred his back. A deep laceration ran from his shoulder to his lower back.

Struggling to reach the injury, his efforts to apply medicine were ineffective, and the bleeding hadn't stopped.

Nicole's eyes stung with unshed tears at the sight.

As Roscoe noticed her gaze, he hastily covered up and tried to rise.

‘Stay seated, Nicole insisted, her voice thick with emotion.

She reached out, touching his shoulder gingerly. Roscoe sank back down, attempting to downplay his injuries. "It's nothing, really. It's just now that I've seen it..." Nicole, her tone laden with disbelief, pressed, "Do you take me for a fool?"

In the midst of a heavy silence, Nicole's voice trembled slightly. "Is this from the parking lot incident?" Her mind flashed back to the guards, their hands wielding sinister, blade-like weapons, which she had first mistaken for whips.

Those very weapons were intended for her, but Roscoe had intercepted the blow, taking the hit in her stead. When Nicole broached the subject, Roscoe dismissed it with a stoic front. "It's nothing. I've weathered worse." Nicole, driven by concern, unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the grim reality of his injuries. It confirmed Jarrod's words.

Roscoe's existence within the Watts dynasty was fraught with hardship.

As she reached out, Roscoe caught her hand in a tender grasp, stopping her. "Careful, you'll soil your hands," he cautioned.

Nicole bowed her head, noting the crimson that had already transferred to her skin.

With quiet care, Roscoe wiped her hand clean, ensuring

no trace of the ordeal remained on her.

heart, and

to connect with others emotionally, assuming she had hardened herself into

to understand his motives. Doubt gripped her. She feared the answer might reveal a lack of any real

eyes,

hushed tone, she whispered, "It's not worth it, Roscoe..." Roscoe's composure faltered. The once skilled surgeon was momentarily at a loss, his hands fumbling as he tried to comfort

away her tears, Nicole mustered a smile and took charge. "Turn around. Let me see to those wounds, she

faint. "There's no need for

argue. Just turn around,” Nicole persisted, not willing to take no for

cleaned the lacerations with iodine, applied clotting agents, and began to

delicate touch seemed to cause Roscoe to stiffen, a

Nicole finished with the bandage, Roscoe donned

that you want?" The interplay of light and shadow in the room highlighted the clean lines of Roscoe's face, a stark contrast to the charged

above a whisper, carried an undeniable allure as she leaned in

and selflessness. The thought of easing her conscience through such an exchange

knew it was folly, trying to awaken him from what she ‘saw as a pointless pursuit with the bait

magnetism that needed no enhancement from cosmetics, Nicole's eyes held their own power. Her appeal was undeniable, potent even, and for someone like Roscoe, who seemed so unversed in matters of the heart, it could prove

Nicole challenged the very foundation of Roscoe's actions. "Is this you've been striving for?" Roscoe's expression shifted into one of icy detachment,

trying to ignore the ache spreading through her chest, pressed on. "Roscoe, I can be yours

a condition. We end this afterward.” Gone was the naivety of

she once knew. Despite the shift, Nicole maintained her poise, her hand curving around the nape of his neck, her facade unwavering. They found themselves locked in a tacit standoff, each waiting for the other to concede defeat first. Roscoe's stubbornness matched her own. His frustration was palpable. He caught her hand firmly, pinning it against the wall, his proximity closing in, his tone roughened. "Nicale..." The way he uttered her name was undeniably charged, a daring move in

into submission, seeking an inner tranquility. She held onto a sliver of certainty amid the tension. Roscoe, in spite

dared not reveal

eyes, a gravity unto themselves, held her gaze, his breath mingling with the air

this charged moment, was beyond Nicole's wildest scenarios. The Roscoe she knew, once easily flushed with embarrassment, had matured. His proximity sent a flutter through her lashes, a

the moment's intensity into a soft caress on her cheek. His voice, barely above a whisper, carried a weight. "Nicole, this is a game to you. Enough."

to

when the first light crept across the horizon,