Page 71 of Breakaway

3 ?????? ????? (cuss word). — Total bullshit.

4 ?????? ?? ????? ??????????. — Come with me. Please.

5 ?????. — Fuck.

6 ? ????. — I’m a coward.

Chapter 28

Never

NEVAEH

Where is Roman?

The question is like an annoying ad that keeps popping up. I mentally close it and try to distract myself by watchingHow to Lose a Guy in 10 Days—but then it’s back again, flashing in my head like a freaking strobe light. It’s been three hours since the game ended, and he’s still not home.

Did something happen?

I take my phone from the couch, check it again, and put it down. No messages, no calls. Sure, I could call him myself, but wouldn’t that seem needy? I don’t want him to think that I can’t spend even a few hours without him. Because I can…just not now.

Something about the way he looked as he left the ice made my heart clench in my chest. His features were dark, like the sky on a stormy day. I didn’t even see a ghost of a smile, but what weirded me out was how he avoided eye contact with anyone from his team. Anger was bubbling inside him, it was so clear and so disturbing. Yet there was more, and I’m not sure I interpreted it right.

Was it resentment?

I tense as I hear the door opening and closing. Biting my bottom lip, I glue my gaze to the TV. My plan is to act as nonchalant as possible, to not let him see how much I’m worried about him.

His steps are slow. I bite my bottom lip, wincing from the pain that strikes right through me. For the life of me, I can’t concentrate on what’s happening in the movie.

“Hey,” Roman says, sitting down beside me on the couch. I turn my head to look at him and instantly notice that he’s keeping his distance. His elbows are on his knees, his hands locked together in front of him. “What are you watching?”

“How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. It’s an old rom-com,” I tell him, plastering a smile on my face, even if I don’t feel like smiling. “Layla watched it recently, and it made me want to rewatch it too.”

“Never seen it.”

“I didn’t figure you’d be a rom-com lover, so I’m not surprised. It’s good. I can restart if you want?—”

“No.” Roman stands up, slides his hands down his legs, and then pats his thighs. “I need a shower, and then I’m going to my room. I’m just going to crash. You can watch the movie. The noise won’t bother me.”

Pinching my eyebrows together, I gape at him in silence. Since he got back from Mexico, I haven’t spent a single night in my own bed. Even while he was away I slept in his bedroom. And now he’s telling me I’m not allowed in there?

“Um, Roman?—”

“Night, Nevaeh.” He nods and heads to the bathroom. I stare at his broad shoulders under his jacket and his narrow torso—irritation rises in my chest and climbs all the way up my neck and into my cheeks.

What the hell is going on?

The click of the door closing rips me out of my daze. I look down at my hands, noticing how my fingers are trembling. He’s pissed me off big time, and this is probably the first time I’ve felt so angry at him. When he went to Mexico after kissing me, my anger was mixed with hurt and disappointment. It was a cocktail of emotions, but I knew how to explain what happened between us and what led him to flee to another country. Now? I have no fucking clue.

When I glance at the TV, one of my favorite moments of all time, when Matthew McConaughey’s character sees Kate Hudson’s character walking down the stairs in that gorgeous yellow dress, is displayed on the screen. Usually it makes me swoon, but now I’m too agitated to care.

Grabbing the remote, I quickly turn off the TV and toss it onto the coffee table. I stand up, and my eyes instantly fly to his bathroom door. It’s such a bad idea, but I know myself too well. I’m not going to listen to my reasonable side. With him, there’s nothing rational about how I feel. It’s all pure emotion, and it consumes me like nothing ever has before.

In a few strides, I’m standing at the closed door. He might kick me out, but right now that’s the least of my concerns. I want to know what’s going on. I want to help.

With a deep breath, I put my hand on the doorknob and open the door wide. My gaze immediately meets his. Roman is standing in front of the mirror, his hands on either side of the sink. He’s shirtless, his pants low on his hips. I’m momentarily distracted, but it fades pretty quickly. The anger flashing behind his irises sobers me up fast.

“What are you doing in here?” Roman asks.

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