Page 38 of More Than Nothing
“Let’s talk about something else.”
They chatted all things work and babies for the next hour, sharing stories and finding out more about each other. Elenie, more grateful for the company and burgeoning friendship than Summer and Caitlyn would ever know, deliberately pushed Roman’s invitation and his previous relationship from her mind.
There would be time to worry about that again later.
Chapter 18
Roman
He retched as he jerked awake, his stomach rebelling against the rolling horror in his dreams. Through the rough rasp in his throat, Roman struggled to drag enough breath into his chest. Elbows on his knees, head in his hands, he braced himself and tried to clamp down on the sickness by focusing on his surroundings.
The air felt clammy. He’d need to change the sheets again. They were soaked.
The sweat was cooling on his back by the time he was steady enough to stand. Quads trembling, he took slow, deliberate paces toward the glazed balcony doors and watched his reflection run shaky fingers through tousled hair. The sky was clear above the treetops and as black as pitch. Stars, like backlit pinpricks through a sheet of cardboard, shone stark and comforting. A reminder of all that was beautiful in the natural world. Not like the ungodly mess regularly created by humans.
His heart rate steadied as the branches of the pine trees dipped and swayed.
His dreams had meshed an array of realities together. The young girl with his sister’s face was still dead, still draped unseeing on the single mattress in that grim, abandoned house on adecaying Detroit street. But alongside the wounds Roman had seen, catalogued and studied, and the track marks in her arm, her broken body was mutilated with a kaleidoscope of injuries from other victims and other cases—his unconscious mind drawing on atrocities from across the years. So much blood, so much suffering. Bones snapped, skin flayed, puncture wounds bubbling, body parts missing. Everywhere, the scent of death, rot, and fluids that he sometimes doubted would ever leave his nose.
Roman shuddered, turning from the window. He needed a shower, middle of the night or not. He needed something to drive the dream from his head. Stripping off his shorts and leaving them on the bathroom floor, he stepped under the showerhead and turned the heat up as high as he could stand. As the room filled with steam, he braced a hand on the tiles and hung his head.
The trigger tonight was a meeting with Millie Westlake and her parents. All three had been hollow-eyed and exhausted, the overdose infecting the whole family in a myriad of different ways. Millie looked thinner, almost ghostly. As if her experience had sucked the life and confidence right out of her bones. Her mother and father, gray and strained, flanked her with an intensity that broadcast their terror of what might have been.
He’d explained that Michigan’s Good Samaritan law meant no possession charges would be brought against Millie. Her use of what she’d thought was MDMA would result in a misdemeanor charge but, as a first-time offender, it was likely she’d avoid a prison sentence and the fine would be low. Without further information from Millie, there was nothing more Roman could do about tracing the source of the drugs.
The relief on her parents’ faces was palpable. Millie remained dazed and uncommunicative. He’d left the house sick and frustrated, a pervasive feeling of failure on his shoulders. Therewould be no winners in this case. Another one tucked, for now, into the devastatingly bulky folder marked “Unresolved” in his head.
At least Millie Westlake had escaped with her life. She’d get over this, even if she never forgot it. She had a future to look forward to. She would make new memories and fresh mistakes. But Roman had gone to bed with other failures lurking like specters in the corners of his bedroom, waiting until he slept to pounce.
He shut off the water with a curse and stepped out of the shower, pulling clean shorts and a t-shirt from his dresser. Padding down to the kitchen with bare feet, he flicked on a solitary table lamp and made a cup of tea. His eyes gritty, his body clumsy, he stared at the digital clock on the front of the stove. The idea of Sunday lunch with his family, introducing Elenie to everyone amidst the usual noise and mayhem, was suddenly overwhelming.
Standing in the dark, with a head full of heaviness, the draw he’d felt toward her at Otto’s house was intangible, out of his grasp.
Why had he talked her into it? What the hell was he thinking?
He had enough on his plate without this as well. Elenie Dax was not a safe or sensible person for him to spend time with. He must be out of his mind.
And he was a mess. So screwed-up, he couldn’t talk to his family. Under pressure to fix himself in a timeframe chosen by other people.
What a catch.
Roman groaned and stared up at the ceiling, his mug burning his fingers. The minutes ticked by, the house silent around him. Beneath his feet, the rug was rough and textured. Concentrating on the sensation kept his mind from spiraling free. He doubted he’d get any more rest before morning.
Elenie wore a simple cotton shirt dress, the color of fall leaves. Face bare of makeup, her expression was a smooth mask but he could read her well enough now to see the nerves. Her tongue flicked toward the healing cut on her lip. Tension burned in his shoulders and Roman felt a flash of regret at putting them both through this.
“We can leave any time you want,” he said. Elenie’s eyes were on his face when Florence pulled the door open with a shriek. “Welcome to chaos.” His words were both gruff and apologetic.
Roman handed a bright bunch of sunflowers to his mother, bending to kiss her cheek, edgy and awkward.
“My son looks concerned for your safety. Or maybe your sanity?” His mother’s usually blinding smile danced on her lips at reduced wattage. She held out a hand, blatantly assessing Elenie with a shrewd once-over that missed nothing. “I’m Ava. It’s nice to meet you properly.”
“Thank you for letting me join you.” Elenie’s polite response was stilted and defensive. There was a pause which made Roman’s head thump. He rolled his shoulders and tried to relax.
“Any chance we can come in? I really need to take some of the weight off my feet.” Caitlyn’s voice came from behind them. She winked at Roman.
“My darling! Of course, of course. Come on, everyone. Move out of the hall. Our lovely pregnant mama needs to sit down!” Ava led Caitlyn tenderly into the kitchen.
“Nicely played, wife of mine,” chuckled Milo, following on behind. “By the way, anything he’s said about me is probably exaggerated, unless it’s intellectual.” He winked at Elenie, blue eyes twinkling, punching Roman’s arm as he passed.
