Fractured Hope (Undone Series Book 4)

by Kristy Love

  Roman: I hope you got home safe. I’ll see you next week unless you decide you can’t stand me before then.

  I smiled. It felt good to have a friend, to feel somewhat normal for awhile.

  I didn’t reply to Roman. Instead, I got a shower and climbed into bed.

  CHAPTER 6

  Mia

  MY LIFE FOR THE LAST week and a half had been much the same. Working, seeing Gia, and planting some snapdragons. I hoped she’d wake and be able to see them.

  Tonight, Roman was coming over. I made spaghetti and meatballs, wanting to make something filling and easy since I was rushing home from the hospital. We hadn’t talked all week beyond confirming tonight for seven. I wasn’t sure what that meant for when we were together. Nerves rioted in my stomach.

  Why was I so nervous? Probably because he made me feel out of my element. Something stirred in me as the doorbell rang. He was right on time.

  “Hey,” Roman said. He smiled and ran a hand through his hair. Could he possibly feel as anxious as I did?

  “Come on in.” I opened the door and motioned him in.

  “Whatever you’re cooking smells good.” His eyes scanned the room as though this was the first time he’d been in my house. They lingered on a picture of me and Gia I had hanging on the wall. His eyes narrowed as though he was trying to solve a puzzle. He quickly shook his head and turned back to me. “Hopefully some of whatever it is will stick to your ass.” He winked. He actually freaking winked at me. As though that made it less offensive. I decided to let it go to avoid another verbal boxing match.

  “I borrowed a couple movies from Redbox if you want to eat and watch one.” I handed him the DVD cases while I went to drain the pasta.

  “I’ve heard good things about The Man from U.N.C.L.E.”

  “Sounds good. Put it in and I’ll grab the food.”

  I made up two plates and carried them into the living room. The DVD title screen was on and his feet were kicked up on the coffee table. I liked that he made himself comfortable wherever he was. I handed him his plate, and as I sat down he pushed play. We watched the movie in silence and ate for awhile. He didn’t slurp or make awful noises as he ate—which was good since those sounds drove me insane. He chuckled at something and the warm, gruff sound of it moved through me.

  When we both finished eating, Roman gathered up our plates and took them into the kitchen before returning with another bottle of water from my fridge.

  He really made himself at home. I was strangely unbothered.

  I tucked my legs up underneath me and pulled the blanket down from the back of the couch to cover myself. Roman stretched his arms out behind him and his hand brushed the back of my neck. Tingles raced down my back from the contact. It’d been a long time since someone touched me like that, especially there.

  “Are you okay?” he asked. His thumb brushed my neck again.

  “Just trying to get comfortable.”

  He turned his attention back to the TV. I couldn’t focus. Instead, I was hyper aware of everything he did. Every time he shifted in his seat. When he crossed his ankles on the coffee table. When he cleared his throat. When he sank down deeper into the couch and rested his head back. I almost wished I drank so I could have a glass of wine to distract myself.

  When the movie finally, finally ended, Roman shifted. “I liked it.”

  “Yeah, it was good.” I had no idea. I was too caught up in my head. I was sifting through too many thoughts, trying to make sense of them.

  Roman stood, stretching. A thin sliver of his stomach was revealed when his shirt rode up. “I guess I should head home.”

  The prospect of another lonesome night collided with me as he turned to leave. I didn’t want to be alone in this house. I didn’t want to hear the walls creak and the ticking of the clock. I spent so much of my time alone that I forgot what it was like to have anyone else in the house. David and Roxie tiptoed around me, trying not to make noise, trying not to upset me. Roman barged in, leaving his mark everywhere he’d been.

  As much as I didn’t want to be alone, I couldn’t ask him to stay longer, not without it seeming as if I were asking for something I wasn’t ready for.

  “Thanks for coming over.”

  “Thanks for dinner. It was good.” I smiled, my eyes studying my feet. His words made something tighten in my chest. I followed him to the front door, which he opened and stepped through. I leaned against it and watched him walk. “Until next time.” He dipped his head and saluted.

  Then he was gone. The house groaned in protest. I shut and locked the door, then went about cleaning up. The loneliness made my chest ache and constrict. Would I spend the rest of my life alone? My only lifeline in a hospital, unresponsive?

  Before I could think too much about it, my phone vibrated with a text.

  Roman: Okay, you convinced me. You aren’t puking up everything you’re eating. I won’t alert the step-douche.

  Me: I told you.

  He didn’t respond, but he’d put another smile on my face.

  * * *

  “Please, Mia. Just come out,” Roxie begged. I wanted to say yes. Lately, the house that had provided comfort for me felt like a prison. I was constricted within the walls and the ghost of the past attacked me with memories.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To Margarita’s.”

  “I don’t want to drink.” I was afraid to drink. What if Gia needed me at the hospital and I was drunk? Unable to get to her? The thought made me freeze in panic.

  “A glass of wine won’t kill you. You don’t have to get trashed, just have a little. It’ll help you relax.”

  Tears welled in my eyes. I knew it wouldn’t kill me. It wouldn’t be the end of the world. “I’m scared.” That was the most honest sentence I’d spoken to her since this all started—since my life had circled the drain.

  “Mia, honey,” she whispered, her voice laced with pain and helplessness.

  I sniffed, gathering myself together. “Okay. I’ll come.”

  “Good.” Her voice was soft. “It’ll be me, Ry, and Harper. So be prepared for a good time.”

  I sniffled, tears still threatening. “Okay.”

  We talked for a few more minutes before getting off the phone. I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed the phone to my forehead. I felt as though I was coming apart. My carefully crafted façade was crumbling before my eyes and I had no idea how to fix it. I was assaulted by feelings and thoughts I hadn’t dealt with in a long, long time. My phone chimed with a text. I furrowed my brows as I pulled my phone up to see who it was. Roman.

  Roman: I picked up an extra shift tonight so I won’t be around for the next couple of days.

  I read the text twice, trying to figure out if this was really meant for me or someone else. Before I could reach a verdict, he sent another text.

  Roman: I just wanted to let you know in case you needed a big manly man to help you around the house this weekend.

  I laughed at his words.

  Me: I’m sure I can manage. I’ll make a list of things for you to do when you’re off work and rested.

  Roman: Damn. I knew I shouldn’t have told you.

  Me: I’ll make sure no big, bad men break in your house while you’re out saving the world.

  I smiled, liking our exchange. There was that word again. Like. I brushed it off and went about my day.

  The same old, same old. Work. Hospital. Home. Dinner.

  But tonight there was a change. I was getting ready to go out with Roxie. For some reason, my hands shook. I’d gone out with Roxie and her friends before, but something felt . . . different this time. Like something was changing. Maybe it was me.

  Roman: You better keep a close eye. You never know who will show up and try to fuck shit up.

  Me: Haha. I’ll keep an eye out when I get home.

  Roman: Home?

  Me: Yeah, I’m going out with some friends tonight.

  Roman: Be safe. I wouldn’t want to have to pic
k you up in the bus.

  Me: Bus?

  Roman: Ambulance.

  My heart stuttered and my lungs felt too small. I couldn’t get enough oxygen in my body. My blood was too liquid. Memories flooded me . . . crushed metal, blood, lifeless bodies.

  I never wanted to be in an ambulance again. I sat on the edge of my bed and put my face in my hands. I could do this. I could do this. I could do this. Eventually, my breathing leveled out and my heart rate slowed. Roman didn’t know what he was saying; he didn’t understand. He didn’t understand that his words felt like a burning knife scoring my insides.

  A few hours later, Roxie was telling us stories about David and how she received him home when he finally got home from his business trip. It was not what I wanted to hear about my brother, so I zoned out. I stirred the straw in my sweet tea, my mind somewhere else.

  My phone buzzed so I picked it up, welcoming the distraction. It was a text from Roman.

  Roman: This night is the night from hell.

  Before I could answer him, Roxie made a disgusted noise.

  “Are you kidding me? David couldn’t let me have one night without bugging someone for updates?” Roxie exclaimed. She plucked the phone out of my hand before I could do anything. Her eyes widened and she looked at me, clearly surprised.

  “What?” Ry asked.

  “Is everything okay?” Harper leaned forward in her seat.

  Roxie’s eyes touched on them before landing on me. “It’s not David,” she said.

  “Then who is it?” Harper asked.

  Roxie stared at me. She’d invaded my privacy and was sharing my personal business with people. I stood and snatched the phone out of her hand, cradling it to my chest. “Who is Roman?”

  “Roman?” Harper and Ry echoed.

  “No one.”

  “He doesn’t sound like no one.” Roxie raised an eyebrow. “Roman is a guy’s name.”

  “I’m well aware that Roman is a guy’s name.”

  “A guy is texting you.”

  “So?”

  “Since when did you get texts from guys?”

  “It’s not your business.”

  “I’m just curious, Mia. Who is Roman?”

  “A friend, okay?” The walls were closing in again. I didn’t want Roman exposed to this part of my life. I wanted him on the safe side, the one where I didn’t have a comatose daughter and hovering family and friends. Where my life wasn’t bleak and depressing. “It’s none of your business.”

  All three women stared at me, their mouths hanging open, clearly shocked. I pushed away from the table and stormed toward the bathroom. I needed away from them, I needed space. I needed to think.

  My phone chimed again and I looked at it.

  Roman: How’s it going? Enjoying your night out?

  Me: I’m currently hiding in the bathroom.

  Roman: Are you okay?

  Me: They wanted to know who you are.

  Roman: Tell them I’m the manly landscaper from next door.

  I snorted as my shoulders relaxed.

  Me: I’m not sure that will result in fewer questions.

  Roman: Tell them what you want to tell them. Tell them to fuck off. Tell them we hang out sometimes. Whatever you’re comfortable with. You don’t owe them explanations.

  Me: Thank you.

  Roman: I didn’t do anything.

  Me: You did.

  For so long, I felt I owed Roxie and David, and pretty much everyone, a detailed rundown of my life. I didn’t owe them that. Just because they wanted to know didn’t mean they needed to. I took a deep breath to steel myself and left the bathroom, my phone in my hand.

  Their eyes all turned on me as I sat back down at the table. We sat in silence for a few minutes before Harper broke it.

  “How are things going at the hospital?”

  “They’re . . . going. Nothing has changed.”

  “Do you need anything?” Ry asked.

  I smiled politely, though it felt forced. “No, I’m good. Thank you.”

  “I didn’t mean to push you, Mia. I was just surprised.” Roxie’s eyes were full of sadness.

  I forced a smile. “It’s okay. It’s no big deal.”

  The rest of the night, they kept stealing curious glances at me, but no one broached any hard subjects. I was glad I didn’t have to answer anything about Roman.

  CHAPTER 7

  Roman

  MIA STOOD AT MY DOOR. It’d been about two weeks since I’d seen her, though we’d been texting sporadically. I’d mowed her lawn the day before and she handed me a container of cookies. “For helping out with the grass. I appreciate it.” She didn’t meet my eye, which meant something was bothering her.

  “You’re welcome.” I opened the container and took out a cookie. She was one hell of a baker. I moved out of the way and let her step inside. Her eyes took in the house, though there wasn’t much to see. Her place had pictures, furniture, and things that made it feel like a home. Mine was bare bones. I had a secondhand couch and my TV stand was a cheap one I purchased from a thrift store. I didn’t care much what was inside the house. As long as I had a bed to sleep on, a couch to sit on, and a fridge for food, I was good.

  She stepped through into the living room and her eyes fell on the book I’d just put down. She picked it up and thumbed through my copy of George Orwell’s 1984, gazing at the pages with an expression on her face that I couldn’t place.

  “Do you read a lot?” I asked.

  “Not anymore.”

  “No?”

  “Too many happily ever afters.” Her eyes speared me in place.

  Something had hurt her, deeply. I wasn’t sure what it was and I was pretty sure she didn’t want to share it with me. “Not every book ends in a happily ever after.”

  “It’s not worth the risk.”

  She put the book back on the table and tapped the cover with her fingers. Silence hung between us. We were in a weird place; a place I wasn’t sure what to do with. I wasn’t used to anyone making me feel unsure, and somehow this broken girl always managed to surprise me. I pointed to the book. “That one doesn’t end in a happily ever after.”

  She shrugged and sat on the couch. I sat on the opposite end and offered her a cookie. She took it. “I expected something different from your house.”

  “Like what?”

  She continued studying the room as though it held answers to some riddle she was trying to solve. “More of you. Something that gave me some indication of who you are.”

  I raised an eyebrow. What was she trying to figure out about me? “So you want to swap tales of our past lives?”

  “No. I guess I just want to know who you are.”

  “I’m Roman. And I’m an asshole, which you like to remind me.”

  “I know you’re Roman and an asshole.” She rolled her eyes. “What makes you tick? Why do you keep helping me out when there’s nothing in it for you?”

  I raised the container of cookies and an eyebrow. “I don’t know, these are pretty good payment.”

  “You can buy cookies from any store.”

  “Not like these.” I ate another, as though it’d prove my point. She looked down at her hands.

  “How can we have a friendship without sharing how we got to where we are? The things that made us who we are right this moment?”

  I set the container down and moved closer to her, my arm stretched over the back of the couch. “We share what we’re willing to share.” I shrugged. “We don’t have to trade war stories if we don’t want to.”

  Her nose crinkled and I was struck by how cute she looked. “I’m not sure if I’d compare my life to the horrors of war.”

  “It’s an expression.”

  She nodded, her eyes skating around the room again.

  She was far in her head today. I wanted to do something to shake her out of her comfort zone and out of her thoughts. “Come on. Get up.” I grabbed her hand and pulled her off the couch. She followed, though uncertaint
y crossed her face. I grabbed my keys and hauled her outside.

  “I don’t have my purse!”

  “You don’t need it.”

  “I can’t just leave.” She tried to dig her heels in and stop me, but I kept barreling forward. When we got to my truck, she pulled on my hand and stopped me. “Roman, I don’t have my wallet.”

  I pulled her close to me, cradling her face in my hand. Her lips parted on a breath. Our bodies were almost flush and I could feel her heart racing against the thumb pressed to her neck. “You can either keep making excuses not to live or you can start living. I’d say the choice was yours, but I’m not giving you one.”

  Some of the anxiety and tension left her face. “Where are you taking me?”

  “You’ll see.” Frankly, I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I just wanted to do something. I wanted to get out of the house and shake things up. I wanted to wipe the sadness off her face. I hauled her ass up into my truck before climbing in and pulling out of the driveway. We drove in silence for awhile, though she twisted her hands in her lap as though she were in some silent war with herself.

  Before long, I saw a sign and knew that was where we were going. I turned quickly into the parking lot and turned the truck off.

  “Paintball?” she exclaimed as though I were crazy.

  “Paintball.”

  “Are you kidding me? I’m not dressed for paintball!”

  I took in her outfit. She had on sweatpants, a hoodie over a T-shirt, and gym shoes. “You look great to me.”

  “What about guns?” She crossed her arms over her chest.

  “We can rent them here.”

  She huffed and looked out the window. “Why are you always so bossy?” I helped her down out of the truck and grabbed her hand, leading her inside. Her hand felt so small in mine. I couldn’t fight how much I liked having it there.

  “As if you don’t like it.”

  She didn’t respond, but her hand squeezed mine. Inside, I bought two paintball masks and paintballs, and rented two guns. Mia was still hardly speaking to me, so I led her around the store and let her sulk. We both signed waivers and were directed to wait for the next game to start. We quickly got ready and I gave her a rundown on how the gun worked.