Whispers of Destiny: His Belated Love novel Chapter 173

Everything happened in a flash, a split second, and Rosemary never saw it coming. She only saw Hogan fail to dodge the knife.

A bunch of onlookers had gathered around, but with the knife in the assailant's hand, no one dared to step in.

Rosemary snagged a stick from a nearby stall and went to town on those guys, laying into them with a vengeance.

Hogan knocked the last one to the ground and scooped Rosemary into a hug, grabbing the stick in her hand to keep bystanders from getting hurt, "Chill out, you've scared them all off."

The gang was quickly carted off by the cops on patrol. Rosemary eyed Hogan's slashed clothes, and even though they were black, under the lights, you could tell blood was seeping through, "Hospital. Now."

Lately, she felt like she was jinxed, always ending up around hospitals.

"It's just a scratch. It'll be healed by tomorrow."

He had been gauging the distance before; he couldn't really let those losers land him in the hospital. That would be a total face-plant for his manly pride.

Rosemary frowned, "No way."

Hogan gave in immediately, "Alright, then you patch me up. I saw a 24-hour pharmacy downstairs from our hotel just a while ago."

Back at the hotel, Hogan took a shower first, then came out with the meds to find Rosemary.

He was just wearing a T-shirt, which he swiftly peeled off.

The cut on his chest, as long as a finger, was whitened from the water and oozing blood. It didn't look too bad, but now it seemed particularly vicious.

Rosemary cleaned the wound with a cotton swab and iodine.

Meanwhile, Yolanda was sorting through photos she took that day to post on Facebook. Catching the scene, she casually shot a video.

True to his military roots, Hogan had a figure that was deceptively slender when clothed but packed with muscle underneath. His well-defined muscles and the sexy V-lines diving into his waistband oozed virile charm.

Rosemary tending to his wounds was a sight to behold—with her aggressive frame, honey-toned skin, and dainty, fair fingers, it was a picture that got the blood racing.

With a little filter adjustment from Yolanda, the ambiance turned steamy in an instant.

Her Facebook post read: "Divorce trip bliss. The right way to play the damsel in distress savior."

The photo didn't show faces, but the comments section was swarmed with thirsty followers, "New flame? Damn, that body though!"

"When did you get married?"

Yolanda replied uniformly, "It's my BFF, celebrating her liberation from a deadbeat and finding new love."

She had Maxwell's WhatsApp, but ever since she added him, he'd been like a ghost—no likes, no replies, no chats.

But Yolanda knew, that someone was definitely lurking and watching her Facebook post that night...

The next day, they visited Rock Church and on the way up saw a bridge covered in red prayer ribbons buzzing with people. The little booth selling the ribbons was swamped.

Rosemary wasn't interested in that kind of fuss, so she didn't join the crowd. The climb had left her and Yolanda dog-tired, and they plopped down in the rest area to eat.

Hogan came over with two red prayer ribbons, "I heard wishes on this bridge come true really well. Let's give it a shot later."

Rosemary glanced at the bridge full of couples, "Isn't this a 'lovers' bridge'?"

Hogan shrugged it off, "As long as it works. Times are tough; maybe even Cupid's taking side gigs."

Handing her a red ribbon and a pen, he said, "Write something quick, like 'may the new year go smoothly.' No joke, you've had some rotten luck. The cops said last night that street's never had a robbery before."

Rosemary: "..."

Feeling her recent streak of bad luck, she passed the ribbon to Yolanda, "Got an extra?"

Yolanda showed her blistered feet, "Spare me, I can't walk anymore. You go, I'll wait here."

She didn't want to be a third wheel, or else what was the point of that Facebook post the other night?

After Hogan scribbled his wish on the ribbon, he glanced at Rosemary's—predictably: "May the new year be safe and smooth."

Mostly couples on the bridge, Hogan reached for Rosemary's hand halfway across, "Should we blend in? Everyone's holding hands, all lovey-dovey, and here we are in the middle looking like we're about to pick a fight."

"You're not chasing her? So why the heck are you moving the Chambers' old man's grave into the Templeton's family plot? Are you trying to tick off your future wife or just looking to get under Rosemary's skin?"

After all, no one wants to visit their ancestors' graves during holidays and Tomb Sweeping Day, only to bump into their ex's family.

"The old man loved a good buzz; he wouldn't be caught dead in a place like that."

Overgrown with weeds, desolate and deserted, even the tombstones are splattered with bird droppings. No one's taking care of it, and there's not a single sign that anyone's paid their respects. It's a safe bet she hasn't visited even once.

With her penny-pinching ways, she probably wouldn't cough up a dime for maintenance.

Maxwell: "Besides, Rosemary was Mrs. Templeton for three years, for crying out loud. If people knew her granddad was buried in such a dump, it would be the Templeton's laughing stock."

"Even if James Chambers hated it, that's none of your business as her ex-husband," Archer sneered at him. "If you really want to win her back, just apologize and sweet-talk her back."

"She's the one who made a fuss about getting divorced, not me. I just played along. I didn't do anything wrong, so why should I apologize?"

"You can't expect Rosemary to come apologizing and begging to get back together, can you?"

"Why the hell not?"

"..." Archer glared at James' photo on the tombstone. "If I were Rosemary, I'd slap you silly!"

No sooner had he spoken than a grating screech of brakes cut through the silence—

Rosemary burst out of her car, fury written all over her, striding towards them, her dress whipping up a rustling breeze through the nearby trees.

Her eyes immediately locked onto the tombstone with James' photo, "Maxwell, what the heck are you doing?"

Maxwell looked down at her, her face red with anger, and said nonchalantly, "You wanted a nice, lively spot for your granddad, didn't you? In light of our history, I figured I'd grant that wish for you."

Grant her wish, my ass!

The anger in Rosemary's eyes blazed, "I'm asking, why did you take it upon yourself to move my granddad's grave here?"