by Joya Ryan
“I don’t want to be a complication. I don’t want you to have to ‘handle’ me.” The word tasted sour. “You obviously know what you don’t want. So why are you still with me? Is it just because of our deal?”
Black fire blazed behind his eyes, but I didn’t care. I had to know. Damn the rules.
“What I know is that I wake up in my bed and your scent is fading. You look at me like that”—he lifted his chin—“instead of with a smile. And I’ve been away from you more than inside of you.” Keeping his stare steady on mine, he clenched his jaw. “And that is a real problem.”
I folded my lips together and looked down because my entire body was stinging like it’d been freshly sunburned. Roman’s words alone sent a spiral of hope through me, and I wanted to cling to him.
In his own way, he was trying.
“Will you come stay with me this weekend?” he asked, his tone much softer now.
I wanted to scream yes at the thought of another wonderful weekend when we could just be. Between his busy schedule and campaign events, I was dying for some alone time with Roman. But unfortunately, I was prepping for a few rather stressful days.
“I can’t.”
He frowned. “Why not?”
“Because I’m leaving tomorrow and going to Indiana for the weekend.”
His eyes narrowed, and he was back to business Roman. “When were you planning on telling me?”
“I told Jean a week ago to make sure I wasn’t needed for campaign work.”
“But when were you going to tell me?” he said again.
“I guess I was going to tell you now.”
A hardness cut through his features. Since he clearly didn’t like my answer, I added, “I didn’t think this was something you’d have an interest in discussing since it didn’t affect you or your schedule. That’s why I just cleared everything with your office.”
“What you do and where you go is of great interest to me.”
His statement and the ironic look that accompanied it made me realize something: I was just as bad as he was. I hadn’t thought to include him or tell him the details of my life. The silence stretched on, making me colder. The realization of all the invisible lines between us that would never be crossed was suffocating.
“I like the blue one,” Roman said from behind me. I turned to face him, surprised that he was standing at my bedroom door. The man radiated so much power and presence, it took up all the space in my small room. “It matches your eyes.”
I glanced at the sweater in my hand. After he’d dropped me off last night, I hadn’t slept well. My flight left in a few hours and I was behind in packing.
“Hazel let me in. I hope you don’t mind.”
I shook my head. “Of course not.”
I tossed the sweater into my open suitcase on the bed, then faced Roman. He took two massive strides, effectively wedging himself into my space, and the crisp, masculine smell of him made me want to moan.
“Thank you for coming to say goodbye,” I said, my chest relaxing a little with the knowledge that he’d made an effort to see me off. With the way things ended last night—silence—I hadn’t known what to expect today.
Running his fingertip along my jaw, he stared down at me.
“I’m not good at offering information or explaining things I’d rather not.”
I laughed a little, because I was getting used to his blunt truth, though it still caught me off guard at times.
“Yeah, I know. We covered that.” I sighed and looked up at the man who made me crazy. Made me happy. Made me feel not so…alone. “But I can’t ask you for things that I’m not giving either.”
He tilted his head slightly, his gaze doing that sweeping thing I loved so much that made me feel like he was really seeing me.
“So I’m going to do better.” I placed my palm over his heart, needing to feel that steady beat to ground myself for what I was about to say. “I want you.” I admitted, simply and honestly. “But I get lost in that sometimes. And when the fog clears, reality is difficult to return to. You’re the only thing that grounds me. I want to be that for you.”
“I can tell you honestly that you don’t ground me, Amy.”
My lungs shut off and small pricks stung my eyes like a swarm of bees. This was it. I’d asked him what this was for him, told him how I felt, and now he was ending it.
“You confuse the hell out of me,” he said, gently brushing his mouth over mine. I stood in shock, prepping for the goodbye. Wondering if this was our last kiss. He gently shook his head, as if reading my mind and responding. “You break every tie that tethers me to my control.” He nipped my bottom lip, “I don’t want to be grounded, Amy. Because you take me someplace better.”
I couldn’t help it: A tear rolled down my cheek, and Roman followed it with his lips, gently kissing the wet trail it left.
“You…you aren’t breaking up with me?”
I felt his smile against my skin. “Silly woman,” he said. “I have so many intentions for you, none of which include distance.”
“I want to know you,” I whispered. “Share things with you. Be there for you.”
“There are things I won’t talk about, Amy.”
I nodded. “I know.”
“But I’m not alone in that.” Hooking his finger under my chin, he raised my face to look at him. “You have innocent eyes, but they’re also haunted. Are you ready to tell me everything, Amy?”
I swallowed hard. When it came to him and how I felt, I could put it out there. Just like he was now. But the rest? The sadness and shame of my past—of what Warren was trying to do—no, I wasn’t ready to tell him. In fact, I was actively trying to find a way not to tell him. Because he was the only person who made me think of Lauren in a good way. Who didn’t make me mentally berate myself every time her memory crossed my mind, tainting it with guilt and horror. And Warren’s threats or not, I wasn’t ready to let that go. But I was running out of time.
“Maybe you’re right,” I whispered. “Maybe the full truth is too much to ask for. At least right now. Maybe we’re fighting a losing battle.”
Or maybe I needed to finally wake up and stop clinging to an unobtainable man with an outrageous agenda and a life I’d never fully understand or fit into. But damn it, I wanted to fit, because it was with him that I felt the most at peace.
“How can you be upset when we agree?” he asked.
“Because I would let you in,” I whispered. “Eventually. With everything. And I don’t know if you’d ever do the same.”
“You said you wanted me. Is it enough that I want you back?” he asked, and tucked a lock of hair behind my ear.
“Honestly? You’ve already caught me. I just feel like I’m still reaching for you.”
Deep down I knew I’d give him anything. Including the truth that terrified me, if it came to that. But I didn’t think Roman would ever fully let down his guard.
“Maybe my trip this weekend is good. Give us time to think,” I said.
“What is it you want to think about?”
“I was talking about you having time to think.”
“I’m not sure I appreciate your assumption that I don’t think regularly.” He grinned. I smiled and he pulled me closer.
“You know what I’m trying to say,” I said.
He nodded. “You want me to evaluate my objectives for this relationship.”
“Yes.” Despite all the stipulations and how this whole relationship agreement had begun, that night—the first night we’d met—mattered. It was the reason I was standing here before him. There had been no agenda then. No expectations. Just two people with a fresh start.
Roman Reese was special, and made me feel special, like something more than a disaster outrunning darkness. And yet he was running from his own darkness.
“What if I want to think with you?” he asked.
“Well, that would kind of defeat the purpose.”
“I disagree.” He placed a soft kis
s on my forehead and said, “I want to be with you, sweetheart. You want honesty?”
I nodded, barely brushing his nose with mine.
“The way you’re talking right now has me nervous.”
I cracked my eyes opened, not realizing I had closed them in a lost moment, and gave him a disbelieving look.
“Politicians never get nervous,” I challenged.
He scoffed. “They do. The good ones just don’t show it.” I smiled and he kissed me again, then pulled away. “However, I did come here for a reason.”
I groaned and spun from him, returning to my packing. “Of course you did.”
He came up behind me, his big hands on my hips, his thumbs brushing just above my jeans and beneath my shirt. The small contact of his fingers on my skin sent shivers racing through my body.
“I came to ask if you’d like some company to Indiana?”
My blood pressure spiked so quickly, it ricocheted through my veins like a boomerang. I spun to face him, my eyes so wide they almost hurt.
“You want to come with me?”
“This is the anniversary of your sister’s passing,” he clarified, as if I didn’t know. “That’s important, and if you’ll have me, I’d like to accompany you.”
My whole body lit up like a cracked glow stick. I’d always gone alone. And even when I saw my parents, they had the uncanny ability to make me feel excluded in their presence. But to have support? To have Roman?
“You’d really do that?”
He looked at me like I was crazy. “Of course.”
“But the election is right around the corner and you have meetings, don’t you?”
“Nothing I can’t reschedule.”
Water lined my eyes and I launched myself into his arms. I hugged him tightly, and he wrapped those strong arms around me.
“So, is that a yes?”
“Yes,” I smiled. “I’d love it if you came.” This was a huge sacrifice for him, and I couldn’t believe he’d actually take time from his overflowing schedule to come with me.
He kissed me. It was soft at first, then hot, needy.
“By the way,” he said, his palms sliding down my back to grip my ass. “I really like you in jeans.”
Chapter Seventeen
She’s just so beautiful and kind. Really amazing and ambitious. She never failed at anything she set her mind to,” my father said with pride in his eyes.
Roman nodded and smiled at me. My parents had been excited to meet the governor of New York when I’d called yesterday to tell them he was accompanying me, and had instantly invited us over for dinner. Now, as we all sat around the dinner table, my parents couldn’t stop gushing.
“She’s the best thing that ever happened to us,” my mother said, reaching for my father’s hand and squeezing. Staring right at me, she finished with, “And we miss her so much.”
My chest constricted and I tried to keep breathing.
Roman just smiled at my parents. “Well, I’m so happy you have a chance to see her now. Amy’s been working really hard, so I’m glad she can take a break to come visit you two.”
He glanced at me, and both my parents’ faces fell. I wanted to crawl under the table and die. Instead, I leaned in a bit and whispered to Roman, “They’re talking about my sister.”
His frown, which turned into a questioning glare, shot between me and them. It was sweet that Roman had assumed the kind words were meant for me, but no. I’d learned a long time ago not to expect such sentiments. Roman, however, looked kind of pissed.
“So tell me, Governor, how’s your campaign going?” my father asked. “I hear you’re the favorite in New York.”
Roman cleared his throat. I stared at my plate.
“The campaign is going well. Thanks to Amy.” He palmed my knee under the table.
The small squeeze of support was nice, but it couldn’t combat the emptiness that was creeping in. It was the same feeling I got every time I came home. Hollow.
“She’s working hard and helping to head up the anti-drug agenda we’re launching.”
“That’s nice.” My mother said, and took a bite of her food. “You two are leaving tomorrow evening?” she asked, even though she already knew the answer.
“Our flight is at six,” I said.
She nodded. “So you’ll be seeing Lauren in the morning?”
“Yes.”
“Excuse me,” Roman said. “I was under the impression that we were all going together?”
“No,” my mother said quickly. “Shame, but Allen and I will be going in the evening, after your flight leaves.” It was obvious that she wasn’t upset by this at all.
“Why?” Roman asked, sharply enough to get both my parents’ attention. A trickle of unease entered the room.
“Well, um, because we’re busy all day tomorrow.”
“Doing what?” he countered.
My heart rate sped up. I recognized this. The square shoulders and calm breathing, the short, terse words: He was in full-blown Roman Reese, “politician and everything alpha,” mode. And he was calling my parents out from across the table.
“We have plans,” my mother tried again, looking at my father, who wasn’t offering any help.
Roman placed his hands on the table and kept his stare on my mother, challenging her to lie further. He was going to push her again. I saw it on his face, felt it hum from his body. He wanted her to admit the real reason she was being evasive.
I, however, didn’t want to hear it. Because I already knew the reason, and I didn’t want the one man who actually saw me as something special to hear it either. It was the dark truth I’d been running from. And my parents’ obvious lack of interest in my life showed more than I had anticipated. My whole body churned as though on the brink of combustion.
“Please,” I whispered and shook my head. “Don’t.”
His dark gaze snapped to my face. I had no idea what my expression was, but whatever Roman saw made him alter and soften his.
“It’s getting late,” he stated and turned his attention back to my parents. “Thank you for dinner, but we should be going. Amy?”
I nodded in agreement and we rose from the table. My father shook Roman’s hand, but my mother didn’t come near us. Instead, she backed away.
Walking through the front doorway I’d crossed so many times as a child, the same doorway I’d brought Lauren through that night, and through which I was now following the governor of New York, I felt a ping of ache and relief settle in my chest.
I had been trying for a long time to make things right, to make my parents care about me again, but I was out of ideas. So once again I reached for the truth, and vowed that I’d use it more often.
“Mom, Dad.” Roman’s hand clasped mine, and he stalled so I could turn to face my parents. “I love you.”
There was more tension and silence between us than I had ever felt in my life. Turning back to Roman, I left, another piece of my soul shattering.
“You want to tell me what the fuck that was about?” Roman said, shutting the hotel door harder than necessary.
“No, not really,” I said and sat on the bed.
He slowly paced in front of me. “Really? Because I’ve never seen a display like that. How she treated you was unacceptable.”
My gaze snapped up. “Are you serious right now?” He stopped right in front of me and crossed his arms. “You do the same thing to your mother!”
He just stood there, a perplexed look on his face. The fact that the similarities seemed to be lost on him was incredible.
“I do not, and that is an entirely different issue. There are reasons for the tension between my mother and I, but your parents? There is none.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know you,” he defended. “You don’t deserve that shit. I’m sorry they lost a child, but they have you. Why in the hell would they treat you like—”
“Because they blame me!” Tears gathered in my eyes, and Roman look
ed at me like I was the crazy one. “They blame me for what happened to Lauren, okay?”
“Why would they do that?” he said softly.
“Because I’m responsible.”
The moment the words left my lips, a rush of terror surged and I clamped my hand over my mouth. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t take back what had just slipped out.
The truth.
“Amy.” He knelt before me, cupping my face and coaxing me to look at him. “Tell me what happened.”
“It’s my fault,” I said.
The more I spoke, the lighter and more terrified I felt. But this was it. All of it. If Roman wanted to know, I’d tell him, because the alternative—keeping it hidden, pretending I wasn’t to blame—was slowly killing me. I had to let him know. Then he could make of it—and me—what he would.
“I knew she had been using. I picked her up from a party and instead of taking her to the hospital, I took her home.” More tears ran down my face and a lump stuck to my throat. “Sh-she had a delayed overdose…died in her sleep. If I h-had just…gotten her help—”
A strangled sob cut through my lips and gut-wrenching pain overtook me. Why had I done that? Why had I taken her home? If I had made a better choice, the right choice, she may still be alive.
I chanced a look at Roman. He was kneeling, looking up at with me with a mask of pure rage on his face.
“I-I’m sorry,” I stuttered, terrified that I was on the brink of losing him too. “I never meant to—”
“Don’t you dare apologize,” he said and clasped my face in his hands. “You listen to me.” He shook me gently, and I found myself locked in his intense gaze. “Amy, this isn’t your fault. You hear me?” His face was so tight with raw anger, it burned all the way to his eyes. “I want to rip your parents apart for making you think this. You did nothing wrong.”
“But I did,” I breathed.
“No,” he snapped. “Lauren took those drugs, not you. She made her choices. You loved her and tried to help her. This. Was. Not. Your. Fault.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and more tears came, spilling to my cheeks, over my jaw, and down my neck. Everything began to blur together. I thought of how Lauren used to laugh. She’d been so likeable. So good.