Page 231 of Catch Me
“You know nothing about my faith.”
“I knoweverythingabout it.” I pushed away from the wall, and he sat straighter, watching me as if I was going to attack him. “I know every verse you’ve cherry-picked from your Bible. I know the lines you use to make it seem like you do all this out of love. I know that you think you’re hating the sin, not the sinner, but that’sbullshit. People can learn and do better for their children. My dad did. Ross did.”
His shoulders slumped again. “These are my beliefs, and Ross gave in to sin.”
Counting backward in my head, I tried to put myself in his shoes. It was the worst place to be, but I could preach at him all day long and it wouldn’t change anything. At a certain point, we’d each just be screaming into the void, and that sort of thing was what turned you just as hateful as the people on the other side. It was the part of advocacy that was sometimes the hardest—holding onto the good inside of myself, even when facing a hatred that wore down my soul.
“I love Roman,” I said. His gaze snapped to mine, holding a mixture of emotions I didn’t quite care to decipher. With a nod, I started to smile a little. “Maybe you don’t really know him the way you think you do. He’s a deeply enigmatic person, and I’ll be the first to say it takes a hell of a lot of patience to crack him. If you took the time, if you put being his father over everything else, you’d see there’s a way through this.”
He shook his head, but I didn’t let it take away my hope. Whether he took that step or not, it would be entirely on him. Not me, not Roman, and not even his religion. The only thing locking him into this cycle of hatred was himself.
“I love Roman,” I repeated, and in my own voice I heard the truth of it. “He says you wouldn’t do what my dad did, and maybe that’s true, but I feel the need to make it clear that he’s not changing. He won’t go to Idaho unless you accept who he is and we can be sure that you won’t try to manipulate him.”
“Isn’t that his choice?”
I shrugged. “Sure, but here’s the thing, Oscar. As his father, you failed to protect him the way you were meant to. You didn’t make him feel safe, and when it mattered, you abandoned him and moved away. He doesn’t trust you, and neither do I. Now, it’s my job to protect him. Unlike you, I’m going to take that as seriously as I do everything else in my life.” After taking a long breath, I moved closer to the door. “I didn’t come here to change your mind but to leave you with this: Roman loves you, and he’s always going to want your acceptance, but he’s not doing things your way anymore. I truly hope you can confront the hate in your heart so he doesn’t have to lose his father, but I’ve seen with my own eyes how sometimes, it’s better to lose someone in favor of finding yourself.”
The look in his eyes was guarded, and I had no idea if my words had landed, but I’d made my peace with this. Pulling a card from my pocket, I set it on the entry table.
“If you ever want to talk about it, here’s my number. My dad had me write his down as well, and Ross told me to let you know that he’s always willing to talk if you ever reach that point.”
I looked at him for another brief moment before I opened the door and took a step outside. He didn’t say anything, so I left him there.
Maybe it hadn’t done any good, but it was on him now. The rest of us could live in peace knowing that we’d done what we could, even when it would’ve been easier to tell him to shove his bigotry up his ass.
*****
Climbing into Roman’s bed, I wrapped an arm around him and tucked my face into his neck. He groaned a little but snuggled closer to me. I couldn’t keep myself from smiling at the way he’d become so comfortable.
I settled my lips at his ear. “I love you, Roman.”
“I’m gonna start hating you if you don’t let me sleep.”
“It’s nine. I’ve been up for hours, and I’m tired of waiting.”
He grunted and buried his face in the pillow. Not willing to accept that, I jabbed my fingers into his ribs, making him kick me.
“If you tickle me, I’ll burn this place down,” he warned.
I laughed against his neck and did it again. He swore, twisting away from me. When he finally sat up, I ran my hand down his thigh, then squeezed it.
“I have to tell you something,” I said.
“Better get it out cause they might be your last words.”
“I talked to your dad.”
His eyes widened, and when it was clear he was about to get up, I flipped over to straddle his lap. The defensiveness in his expression told me to be cautious, but I didn’t give a shit about that. I brushed his hair away from his forehead before I pressed my lips to it.
“Why’d you do that?” His voice was so small it made my chest constrict.
“Because I couldn’t stand to let things end the way they had. Not that it did much good, but I planted a seed, and it’s up to him if he lets it grow. Are you mad?”
He was quiet for a minute, and I let him work through it. My fingers continued to glide through his hair while I waited.
“I don’t know how to feel,” he admitted. “I’m not used to anyone fighting for me.”
“You should get used to it.”
