Page 106 of More Than Nothing
The corner of his mouth lifted in the half-smile that did so much damage to her heart. Elenie couldn’t bear to look at it.
She wandered to the window, wishing she could see the trees. It was so dark outside, so light inside, that the view was mainly a reflection of the room behind her. Roman watched, his hands in his pockets, deceptively relaxed.
Elenie wasn’t sure why it had hit her this hard. She’d known what they were working toward, the events and the results she had deliberately helped to bring about. And, fuck, if her mother hadn’t said a million similar things to her before now. But it hurt so much more for being the last time and the last words.
She’d wanted to plead.Choose me, Mom. Please, choose me this once.As if begging for love was the only way she could ever expect to receive it. And now, the tattered, desperate threads of hope were no longer enough to power the life support keeping her relationship with her mother alive. The sound of the flatline rang inside Elenie’s head.
She should feel free. Instead, she felt completely adrift. And utterly worthless.
“I need to tell you why Zena answered my phone.” Roman stepped closer and a reactive shiver moonwalked across the surface of her skin. “Come and sit on the couch, Elenie. Please.”
“I’ve got such a headache. I don’t think I want to eat anything—I just need a shower and some sleep.”
Not looking at him was the answer. If she could avoid his inimitable face, she might stand a chance of keeping the frenzied volcano of feelings inside where they belonged. She might be able to hold it together just a little longer.
Roman rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. Elenie could feel him studying her. “Go on up,” he said finally. “I’ll sort a few things out down here and I’ll join you soon.”
Her feet were leaden as she climbed the stairs. In the bathroom, she stripped with shaky hands, goosebumps on top of goosebumps raising the hairs on her arms. The steaming water in the shower was blissful. Elenie washed the grime from her body and her hair, then lifted her face and closed her eyes. Motionless, she let multiple one-last-minutes go by before she could bring herself to shut off the flow. When she stepped out, she was so exhausted she could barely stand.
Crawling under the covers in a t-shirt from Roman’s dresser, she settled carefully at the furthest edge of the mattress. Her eyes were closing already, her mind wonderfully blank. Elenie was asleep within seconds.
She didn’t hear Roman come up the stairs. She was unaware of the long moments when he crouched next to her, eyebrows drawn together as he watched her sleep. When he slid into bed behind her and gently drew her body against his, she sighed without waking and curled instinctively into his warmth. His heart thumped steadily against her back throughout the night. If his arms felt like a shield of devotion and protection as she slept, Elenie knew the sensation was conjured only by her dreams.
Chapter 51
Roman
Roman woke early in his bed without her. The sheets on Elenie’s side were cold. He didn’t know how long she’d been gone. Fear settled low in his stomach. Making a quick call to Dougie, he drove across town and up the hill, parking in front of the Dax house next to the 2010 Camaro he knew belonged to Tyson.
He had no doubt at all that he’d find her here.
The front door was shut and locked. Whoever Dougie had called to mend the damage from the raid had done a good job. Walking around the side of the house, Roman crossed the shabby backyard and ducked under an empty clothesline. The handle on the back door turned easily in his grip and he let himself into the kitchen.
Something tacky on the old floor tiles pulled at the soles of his shoes. Looking beyond the mess the DEA team had caused in their search, Roman took in the cabinet doors hanging off their hinges and the pile of dirty pans on the counter. Even before the cutlery drawer had been upended on the floor, this room wouldn’t have won any awards for cleanliness.
On impulse, he pulled open the door of the fridge. Eight beers, two cans of cider, a tub of butter, and three bottles of nail polish.
Roman walked into the hall. He considered calling out but the contents of the fridge had stolen his voice and he couldn’t get Elenie’s name past the lump in his throat. He paused in the doorway of the living room. The cushions had been dragged from an enormous couch and ripped apart, the same done to an armchair. Empty cans, broken glasses, newspapers, overturned ashtrays, and random pieces of clothing were littered across a mud-colored carpet that had seen better days. A huge television stood upright and undamaged on a black glass stand, presiding over the chaos around it. The weak morning light, streaming in through the window, illuminated the room in all its bleakness. A stale smell of cigarettes, weed, and body odor hung in the air, clinging to the curtains and soft furnishings.
Roman’s eye twitched.
Crossing the dingy hallway, he began to climb the stairs. The landing was small, with two bedrooms on one side and two on the other. All the doors were open. Mattresses had been tossed, pillows cut open, drawers pulled out and the contents dumped on the floor.
The sound of movement drew him to the doorway of a compact bedroom. Inside, Elenie tugged at a thin, single mattress which leaned on its longest side against the wall. She wrestled it back onto the bedframe. Someone had taken a knife to the material and long slashes ran across its width, exposing the coils of metal inside. An open closet held nothing but hangers. She bent over to pick up some clothes from the floor.
Roman shifted in the doorway and Elenie shot him a sideways glance. The hollow expression on her face cut him to ribbons. So pale this morning she was almost translucent, she’d pulled on fresh jeans and a sweater. There was something purposeful about her movements.
“I’m sorry about the mess.” His words fell like stones into murky water.
“Not my first raid. And you did warn me.” Elenie folded a t-shirt in her hands and laid it on the bed, gathering up a few morepieces from the floor. Roman watched her add her denim jacket, a hairbrush, and a few items of makeup to the small pile of clothes.
“What are you doing?” His voice sounded rough even to his own ears.
“I want my things. There’s not much. And I’m not coming back here.” She kept moving, kept folding, and a vise clamped around Roman’s chest.
She was going to leave.
“Let me explain about Zena.” He was dangerously close to pleading. “I went to a work function with her because she threatened to blow your cover if I didn’t. And I couldn’t risk it. I should have told you but I thought I could save you from dealing with another complication.”
