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.

constriction around her heart, and a

the ability to connect with others emotionally, assuming she had hardened herself into ‘someone unfeeling and callous

gripped her. She feared the answer might reveal a lack of any real purpose

from Nicole's eyes, landing on Roscoe's

Roscoe..." Roscoe's composure faltered. The once skilled surgeon was momentarily at a loss,

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

faint. "There's

not willing to take

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

cause Roscoe to stiffen, a sign that such care

Nicole finished with the bandage,

hand, her question piercing the silence. "Roscoe, is it me that you want?" The interplay of light and shadow

voice, barely above a whisper, carried an undeniable allure as she leaned in close.

The thought of easing her conscience through such an

trying to awaken him from what she ‘saw as a pointless pursuit with the bait of her own

their own power. Her appeal was undeniable, potent even, and for someone

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

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

the naivety of youth from Roscoe's features. He regarded her with a discernment honed by

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

submission, seeking an inner tranquility. She held onto a sliver of certainty

not reveal

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

Roscoe she knew, once easily flushed with embarrassment, had matured. His proximity sent a flutter through

advance halted. He redirected 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." He released her and departed, his departure

to exhaustion only in the

crept across