Love Burned, She Rose Unscathed novel Chapter 883

He had intended to give them to Roseanne.

But when he’d stopped by earlier that afternoon and knocked on her door, there was no answer.

He took off his coat and hung it on the rack, glancing at the wall clock. It was already ten o’clock.

She should be back by now, right?

Owen picked up the documents, opened his door, and walked across the hall.

“Roseanne? Are you there? It’s me.”

No response.

A flicker of worry went through him, and he took out his phone to call her.

Unexpectedly, she called him first.

“Hello, Roseanne?! Are you home?! I have some documents for you, but you didn’t answer the door.”

“Professor, I’m not home. I’m in Spring… Carlson Smith…”

Owen gripped the phone tighter. He thought he’d heard her say ‘Carlson Smith,’ so he asked again, “Where did you say you are?”

The call was breaking up, filled with static and glitches, making it impossible to hear her clearly.

“...situation... urgent... tomorrow…”

“Hello? Did you say Springfield? Is your signal bad? Hello? Hello?!”

Owen lowered his phone and saw that the call had been disconnected.

He immediately had a bad feeling and redialed her number.

“Sorry, the number you have dialed is temporarily unavailable…”

He hung up and tried again.

Still unavailable.

On the other end, Roseanne, snuggled in her blankets, stared at her phone in frustration as the call dropped. “Why is the signal so bad here?”

“My phone only has one bar of service, too,” Mamie said, her head resting on her arms, which were wrapped around her pillow. “I actually managed to record a bit of what happened today, but I can’t even upload it online…”

She had tried earlier and found that the signal was slightly better out in the yard, but indoors… getting a call through at all was a matter of luck.

“Roseanne, do you want me to go outside with you to make the call?”

“It’s too late to be going in and out. We’ll try again tomorrow.”

“Yeah, it went through.”

Roseanne thought that was a good idea. After a moment’s consideration, she sent the same message to Corley.

Asking her brother for help wasn’t an imposition—he’d told her so himself.

Little did she know, the two men she had just messaged were in the same room together.

And neither of them had slept a wink.

After failing to redial Roseanne’s number around ten o’clock the previous night, Owen had realized she must be in trouble.

And it likely had something to do with “Carlson Smith.”

Ignoring the late hour, he immediately called Roseanne’s academic advisor.

When the advisor picked up the phone, her tone was a mix of surprise and flattery. “Professor Reynolds! How can I help you?”

“Where is Roseanne?” he asked bluntly.

“Huh?”