Page 92 of Breakaway

Did someone just knock?I sit up on the couch and listen. The quiet of the apartment feels suffocating, as if all sound disappeared when Roman walked out the door a few minutes ago.

Another knock, and this time I hear it clearly. I go to the door, dragging my feet. I’m trembling like a leaf, my teeth clattering as if I’m cold. My broken heart is doing this to me, and also my tears.

God, I want to pretend nothing happened. That this is all a nightmare. That I’ll wake up soon, and he will be with me. Will love me…

Pressing my palm to my chest, I wince from the stinging pang in my heart. My eyes well with tears again. I want them to go away.

With shaking hands, I open the door without checking who it might be. The moment my eyes slam into those familiar dark green ones, my knees give out. Angie rushes inside, hugging me tightly and running her hands up and down my back.

“Nev…what happened?” she asks. Like a fish out of water, I try to breathe fully, but I’m too hysterical. “Let’s sit down.”

Angie closes the door and guides me to the living room. She leads me to the couch, and I climb onto it, pulling my legs to my chest and wrapping my arms around my ankles.

“Oh my God, Nev! You’re shaking!” Angie exclaims, pressing her palm to my forehead. I look up, studying her through clouded vision. “Well, at least no fever. Do you want something to drink?” I shake my head no. “To eat?” I shake my head again. “When was the last time you ate?”

I shrug and hide my face in my knees, not looking at Angie anymore. She huffs, clicking her tongue loudly. Her irritation rises, but she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she wheels around and leaves the living room. Her steps sound distant at first, and then after a minute she returns. A glass of water materializes in front of my eyes when I look up.

“Drink.” She presses it to my knee. “Drink, Nev.”

Reluctantly, I grip the glass and press it to my lips, taking a sip. Angie sits beside me, her fingers gently brushing my hair off my face. Silent sobs still rack my body, but gradually, I start to relax. Little by little, the trembling stops, and I can take a lungful.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, staring ahead of me.

“Drake told me you needed me.” My head bolts in Angie’s direction, my eyebrows knitting together. She looks at me. Her eyes are full of pity, and a clenched half smile plays on her lips. “Roman said something to him at the airport.” There’s a little pause as she takes a deep breath. “I saw him getting on his motorcycle as I parked my car.”

Even though he’s furious with me…he cares about me enough to ask my best friend to stay with me. But not enough to love me.

I focus my gaze on the TV screen. The episode I was watching when Roman came home is still on pause, but I can’t bring myself to turn it off. It reminds me of him…because Romansuggested I watch it once we finishedPeaky Blinders. I’m not sure I’ll ever have it in me to finishVikingsnow.

“What happened, Nev? Drake said Roman wouldn’t say anything else, just asked me to come over and keep you company.”

“He left me. Packed some of his stuff and left.”

“What? That doesn’t make any sense. Did he read the article?”

“He did. It’s why he left. He said I betrayed his trust,” I mutter. Then I explain what happened after Roman got home. “I have no idea what he meant when he said I spilled his secrets. You read the article before I even sent it to Kai; you know there was nothing personal in there about him…it was all about how he makes me feel, how much I love him.” Letting go of my legs, I lower them to the floor and lean the back of my head against the couch, my eyes glued to the ceiling.

Angie taps her foot on the floor, her fingers rapping over her belly. Suddenly, she stands up. “I was in such a hurry to get here that I totally forgot. Drake brought the magazine home,” she says loudly, but I don’t pay her any attention. I’m wallowing in my misery.

I know he’sthe onewith all certainty. From the first time we met, I think my soul knew it. Even before he said a single word to me. It already felt different when our eyes met that night at the club. Something in him called out to my heart, and it felt right. Like our souls were made of the same material, fitting each other perfectly and filling one another with happiness and a sense of belonging. It’s a connection I can’t even explain. No logic, no rational thought. I saw all of him—happy, sad, and even shattered—and it only made me fall for him more.

But now I wonder if it was just me?

“Nev.” Angie’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts, and I sit up with a soft groan.

“What?” I stare at my best friend, who’s standing in front of me with the magazine in her hands.

“This is not the same article I read,” she says, and my eyes widen. “Like, it’s the same, but it’s also different. The part about Roman is rewritten.”

“What are you talking about?” I snatch the magazine from her hands and skim it. The more I read, the harder my jaw clenches. What I wrote about my parents, Kyle, and Angie is here, but not what I wrote about Roman.

The last third of the article tells the story of his life in Belarus, including parts I didn’t even know about. He never mentioned he had problems with alcohol after his brother’s death, just like he never said that his dad died of a heart attack. He told me he drank himself to death.

What the hell is this?

“I don’t understand.” I raise my face and peer at Angie.

“Someone rewrote your article,” she suggests, sitting beside me.

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