Page 26 of The Lie
If Hunter knows what really happened…will something happen to him? I don’t want to take that chance. But I also want to tell him. I want him to know. I hate keeping secrets from him. Not being able to tell him has been eating me up inside. But the prospect of telling him and then something happening to him eats me up just as much.
“I want to protect you from…them. Protect Roman from the same people…and the law.” I let out a deep breath. “Whatever you think happened, it’s probably right. I just can’t say it out loud, okay? I just can’t.” A tear rolls down my cheek, then another.
He holds my hand, and with the other, he brushes the tears away. I try to smile, but it’s hard. Mumbling something under his breath, he shakes his head. He curses a few times, and I tug on his hand.
He looks up at me. “I want to kill them.”
I shake my head. “Don’t, it’s done. Nothing can change it. Let’s just go to Annie’s, grab the food, and see Roman. I want him to know that I’m okay. That this wasn’t his fault. I’m fine.”
I’m fine.
Roman has been protecting me from all his shit, hoping that it wouldn’t spill over. Protecting the guys before I came back. I’m worried and scared that Roman won’t talk to me and shut me out again. He said he didn’t want me to get mixed up in his shit, and now…
I’m mixed up.
As we drive closer to where Roman lives, we pass the industrial park, and the air is thick with the smell of chemicals they pump into the air. It burns my eyes, and I close my window to keep it out. The area is rundown. Graffiti covers every inch of real estate. There are houses with boarded-up windows, overgrown yards with rusty tricycles and broken gates.
As we turn into the trailer park, it isn’t what I remember from four years ago. It’s worse. There’s a thin man sitting on a broken lawn chair, smoking and drinking a beer. When he sees me watching, he gives me a toothless grin and I sink down further into Hunter’s seat.
“Don’t look at them. Roman’s already gonna be pissed that I even brought you here. He hates me coming here. He doesn’t want anyone to see”—he waves his hand out in front of him, then grips the steering wheel again—“the way he lives.”
“It’s not his fault he lives here. I would never judge him for this. I wish he would stay with me. At least then I would know he’s safe.”
“Oh, if he only would. I’ve asked for him to move in with me so many times; we have heaps of spare rooms. My dad comes home maybe a few times a month if that, and Mom, she wouldn’t even notice if Roman moved in. But he won’t. He stays here, like he somehow thinks he deserves this shit hole.”
My heart breaks for Roman again. He doesn’t deserve this, any of it. All the shit he’s done just to keep food on the table is nothing a child should ever have to do. I wish so badly I could have been there for him during those four years, when he hardened himself to the world again.
Roman never got a real childhood. Hell, the only person who got the whole nine yards is Jace. His parents were happy—they did all these wonderful family trips together—and sometimes I wish I had that. Mom wasn’t around much, and when she was, she was mean. Dad gave me the best childhood he could. I can’t complain.
Hunter’s parents were together but never happy. When I was around occasionally, they would fight. I used to think it wasn’t too bad, that it was normal to get upset sometimes, like I did with the boys. But now, I’m older and understand so much more. I realize they would have been fighting more than only the times I saw; they probably held back when I was there.
“Maybe we should have called him before turning up here,” Hunter’s voice is laced with concern, bringing me from my thoughts.
“He won’t answer my messages or my calls.”
“He’s not gonna be happy we’re here and will maybe lash out. I don’t want you to see that. He does that sometimes when I come check on him. Please don’t take it personally if he does.”
Hunter seems conflicted, like he shouldn’t have brought me here and wants to drive me home again. But if we let Roman have his way, he would disappear, try and save us from himself. We can’t let him do that. I won’t let him, and I will never give up on him.
“Well, next time he can answer my calls or messages. Then I won’t come here looking for him. That’s if he’s even here.”
We’ve pulled up to Roman’s trailer. It looks the same, weathered a little more, but the same. His motorcycle isn’t out front, and I worry he’s not here. I don’t want to see his dad at all. The thought of it turns my stomach.
I turn to Hunter. “Okay, maybe call him. I don’t think he’s here.”
Hunter points to a smaller white car and nods. “Yeah, he’s here.” But he doesn’t sound pleased.
Fuck, is Roman going to be that upset with us? When Hunter doesn’t move to get out of his car, I do. Fuck this. Roman can yell at me all he wants. This is what happens if you don’t answer my calls or messages.
Hunter moves toward me in the car as I exit, looking up at me with those brown eyes. Like he’s pleading for me to get back in. I ignore him and close the door, turning to the door that’s separating me from Roman right now. I suck in a breath and walk up the few stairs; they’ve seen better days, as they groan under my weight. I don’t think. I just knock three times and move back down to the ground and wait.
Hunter is closing his car door when the trailer door slams open and I’m staring at the man who shares his DNA with the boy I’m looking for.Fuck.Not the Valentine I’d been hoping for. Damon Valentine, he’s changed. His face is gaunt and eyes bloodshot, open sores on his face, and I watch as he scratches the track marks on his inner arm. I grit my teeth and hold myself still. I don’t want him to know he scares me.
“Well, hello there, sweet thang,” he drawls as he rests against the doorframe, the smell of him alone from where I stand enough to make me sick. “You here to sell me some cookies or something a little sweeter?” He winks at me, and I almost vomit in my mouth.
“We’re here for Roman.” Hunter’s voice has a warning to it as he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me close to him. The embrace twinges a rib and I cringe a little. I don’t miss the look on Damon’s face; he saw that.
He chuckles and scratches his junk slowly. Holding vomit back is harder than I thought. Never have I met a viler person than him.
