Page 148 of Before Now

“Not surprising,” I deadpan. “But why was he there?”

One side of Roman’s mouth turns up. “Foster thought he needed to apologize to me for what happened when we were staying at the lake.”

My muscles stiffen as understanding dawns. “Oh.”

He watches me for a second, like he can see the internal reactions I’m trying to tamp down.

“I always believed it was my fault they found us,” I admit. “The timing lined up with when I took your car and went to Ashfield for my dad’s SD card, and I thought someone followed me.” I lower my gaze and breathe for a second while willing the edge off the memories and guilt they bring along for the ride. “But Foster told me he was there a day earlier. About taking my phone and throwing it, and I’m guessing he told you about the tracker on it—I’m so sorry, Roman.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he drawls.

His unbothered response makes me look up, and I repeat, “Yeah, yeah?” but with far more confusion.

“I get it, Remington. You’re sorry. Foster’s sorry.” He ducks in closer, gaze locked on mine. “And now I’ll tell you the same thing I told him. There’s no need for an apology because there’s not a damn thing to forgive.”

“But—”

He holds up his palm, indicating he hasn’t finished. “Even if the phone was the how and why, it’s not yours or his to carry the guilt over. The evil of others isn’t our responsibility. All we can do is try and cancel it out in whatever ways we find.”

Biting back tears, I force a smile and nod an okay. But it’s not. His kindness is a given. I wouldn’t expect anything else. But it’s not thehowandwhythat matters here. It’s thewhat—Roman dehumanized and beaten.

He sighs at me, shaking his head. “Foster gave me the same fake-ass smile.” Roman pulls a knee up on the couch between us, twisting to face me with his arm stretched along the back of the couch toward me. “Here’s the truth I need you to understand. It could have been the phone. It also could have been the guidance counselor at the high school.”

I draw back a little at his statement.

With a week remaining in the semester, I had to contact the counselor to verify what I needed for graduation and confirm my transcripts would be sent to NYU. I’d already taken most finals and only needed to submit a paper. By then, everyone knew about my mom’s death, so they didn’t expect me in classes. She just needed an address to mail my diploma and documents for a scholarship.

“You said she had to keep any information confidential since I was eighteen.”

“And Daniel should have been arrested for Rebecca’s murder, pretty girl.” He exhales slowly, looking down between us at the tan cushion. “I never told you this, but three days before they broke in, I filed a report with state authorities.”

“What?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I wanted to believe in justice. It was supposed to be anonymous, but … it could have found its way into the wrong hands.Icould have been followed. The corrupt pieces of shit might have tracked down people I knew and searched properties, finding Bea’s. Rebecca could have mentioned the lake house to Daniel at some point. Or maybe it was none of those things,” he says. “If that man was planning to look until he found us, he was going to find us, Remington. I’m just fucking glad it was me in the living room when they broke the glass with guns.”

I tip my head to the side, resting my cheek on his hand. “I’ve always felt like such a terrible human for hiding. For just listening while they said such horrible things and hurt you so badly. Maybe if I would have offered to?—”

Roman cuts me off. “Fuck off with whatever you’re about to say. I never would have forgiven myself if they touched you. Hell, I probably would have died trying to end them all.”

I blink away tears, and he brushes his thumb over my temple.

“You’ve suffered enough over other people’s bullshit. We both have. And I’m so fucking proud of you for living your life again.” His lips lift at the corners. “I can’t kill the monster in your closet. But you can stop believing in him?—”

“And it’s damn near the same thing,” I finish with him.

He nods and smiles my tied-for-favorite smile. “Even strung out, I was fucking parenting. Not only that, but my shit holds up whether you’re eight or twenty-three.”

I laugh and wryly remind him, “You also told me if I ever stole you anything worth pawning, you’d give me a cut in gummy bears.”

Roman winces. “Let’s not relive my greatest hits.”

“Or the time you explained the importance of always knowing my dealer?”

He scrubs his hand over his face. “I had to open my goddamn mouth.” But then he settles his gaze on me again, all warm and kind and safe. “I know you won’t entirely believe that none of the blame lies with you or him right away, but swear you will piece by piece. Whittle away at it for me, yeah?”

I nod, listening and committing to it. “Yeah.”

“Great. I can’t ask for more. It can count as my Father’s Day gift.” Not giving me time to respond to that one, he adds, “And so you’re up to speed on the rest of his visit, Imane cuddled on, cried on, and then threw up on Adams North.”

---