Page 58 of The Lie
His fingertip strokes along the back of my arm, and I shrink away from him. I don't stop walking until I'm standing outside Roman’s door. I turn back to see his father has closed the door, and he's eyeing me, rubbing his chin.
I swallow down the thick lump in my throat and knock. “Roman? Are you in there? Are you okay?”
There's a pained groaning sound coming from the room. I don't hesitate—I open the door. It's dark, but I can see his figure lying on the bed in a fetal position.
My heart sinks. What has he ever done to this world? Why must he go through so much pain?I'm done. I'm going to get Roman away from here and call the police.
“Pussy boy’s not up for much, but I am.” His dad leers from the doorway, and all the hairs on my body stand at attention.
Roman tries to say something, but all I can hear iswhooshingin my ears. All I can see is red. I slam the door in his father's face.
“Roman.” I rush to his side. “Oh god, what has he done to you?” My hands hover above his injured body. He's shaking, and I can't stop the tears from falling. “It's okay. I'm here now. I'm going to protect you from him.”
Shifting, I find his backpack on the floor. I quickly flip on the light, but I hesitate before turning back around. If I see Roman right now, I’m worried I will run out there and kill that man myself. So, instead, I open the backpack and get busy putting his belongings in there.
Whatever we don't get now, I'll buy for him. I never want him to come back here again. I pick up a leather vest. I've never seen that before. Flipping it around, I see that it saysThe Sons of Death MCandProspect.
My heart stops for a moment. Is Roman part of all that? I've seen those guys running around town on their bikes, but never, for a moment, did I think Roman would join them. Why would he want to join them…unless it’s for protection or to stop bad shit from happening? Are the guys who hit me part of this motorcycle club?
I don't have time to ask him, so I shove it in the bag. It must be important to him. Letting out a deep, shaking breath, I turn to face Roman.
His dirty-blond hair is plastered to his face, and he’s red in the face and shaking uncontrollably. Even only in his boxers, he looks so small, so…unwell. I see the bruises on his body. I rush over and place my hand on his forehead.
“You're burning up. You have a fever, Roman.” Fucking hell, if I didn't come here, who would have helped him? His father sure wouldn't. Would The Sons of Death come and help him?
He reaches out to me, his hands shaking, and I can see the bruised knuckles where he fought back. Gently taking one of his hands in mine, I turn it palm side up, place my cheek on his palm, and kiss it.
“I'll take care of you, Roman. I'm going to take you home. This isn't your home anymore; you will come live with me.” Dad will agree. He has to. Roman can’t stay here one more day.
He shakes his head. “Mila, no. I can't. They'll find where you live.”
Who'sthey? The motorcycle gang? They can come and find me all they want; I don't give a shit. I will fight them.
“Let me help you put some clothes on.” I find a pair of sweats in a pile beside him. There's a t-shirt there as well.
He shakes his head again, but I ignore his protests.
“I'm doing this, whether you like it or not. I'm not leaving you here. I don't care who finds me. As long as you’re with me—that’s all I care about.” I slide his sweats up his legs, and once they’re on, I move to help him sit up.
The pained look on his face almost causes me to lose it and start sobbing. But if I do that, he’ll feel ashamed, and he shouldn't be. His father should be.
I have to stay strong. For Roman.
My hands shake as I gently tug the t-shirt over his head. I take one arm and help it through the armhole. He lets out a pained groan as I take the other. I'm worried he’s broken something, but I don’t know what. He spins himself and places his feet on the floor.
Roman looks up at me through the curtain of his hair, his big, sad blue eyes cutting me straight to the core. A tear rolls free as I give him a small smile. I push his hair behind his ears and watch as his body shakes with emotion. I step between his legs and gently rest my hand on his back. He lets out a deep sob as he uses one hand to pull me closer, resting his head on my belly.
I run my fingers through his hair and hum for a few moments so I can compose myself. If I don’t, I’m going to start crying and may never stop.
“I’ve got you. You’re mine. I told you I will never give up, will never leave you behind again. I promise you this—you’re my forever.”
We stay like that for a while, his body shaking from crying and the fever and whatever else he’s been holding in for so long. I patiently wait while he lets it all out. Finally, he pulls free from my belly, and I wipe my thumbs under his eyes. They are rimmed with red, and he starts to cry again.
“I love you,” I whisper as I squat down in front of him. I place a small kiss on his salty, wet lips. Drawing away, I rest my forehead against his.
Together, we take a few deep breaths, and he whispers, “I’ve always loved you, Mila.”
I smile. It’s a little sad, but in the best way. I wipe away another of his tears. I hear his dad banging around out in the other room, then I flinch when he yells.
