Chapter 20
20
REMI
“Here I thought I’d have to wait until the weekend to see you.”
I trap my phone in my skirt’s hem, narrowing my eyes at Roman. “Were you planning on kidnapping me?”
“It would be abduction, but we both know you’d come willingly.” He gets a shrug while I shove my earbuds in my bag. He’s right. “I did plan to track you down, though.”
“Mysterious and intriguing,” I tease.
A lady leads her dog by us on the sidewalk, not paying attention, but I still scan for anyone else. Roman’s in street clothes, clearly off-duty. Nothing about us talking in the town square should translate into anything, but a moment passes between us. He hooks his head in the direction he was going. We walk to his car not too far away.
“Silly,” I say, sliding into the passenger seat.
He holds the doorframe, a scowl aimed at me. “If you’re about to make fun of my car again, maybe you should keep walking.”
I press my lips together while he closes my door, muttering under his breath.
His car isn’t silly. A black two-door classic something he loves more than life. What’s silly is watching him fold himself into it because he won’t give it up.
As he contorts to fit in the driver’s seat, I look out the window and suppress a laugh. I might have taken my sweet time in the square to talk to Foster longer, but I’m near shivering under my coat, and a warm ride from Roman beats the cold any day.
“So, are you no longer satisfied with our emoji-only conversations?” I tilt my head at him as he pulls from the curb. “The paper, paper, weary face, pen, repeat, steam coming out the nose text was great.”
He chuckles, one hand rubbing his jaw and the other turning us away from the square. “It would be far faster to tell you I’m sick of never-ending paperwork.”
“I thought you meant you were exhausted from folding so much origami.” I smile when he side-eyes me.
The emojis started long ago, so long I’d need to scroll for a while to stumble upon anything else. We play it as a game, a challenge to keep it going. Although, deep down, it doubles as another contingency. Like my hidden bag. Like his contact name R . Like us right now in his car.
We use it as a way to protect each other from the potential fallout.
And texting my mom’s ex in his police chief’s house sets up for all kinds.
“You could give up, you know? Admit defeat.”
“Never,” he says.
Roman pulls into a tiny lot of gravel near the playground equipment at the park. Somewhere for parents to marginally supervise from their car. My urge to grab my phone and capture the emptiness of the jungle gym surges. The abandoned slides and monkey bars missing life. Long dead leaves twirling across the bridge in the cold breeze. Everything exists in a state of waiting until the noise of laughter and life return.
“I love when you do that.”
I swing around to Roman studying me while I imagine the shot. “When I completely space the real world for one I’m framing in my head?”
“When you lose yourself, finding so much in the real world no one else cares to notice.”
My dad would say everyone experiences the pulse of the world around them, but only the rare eye sees through to its heart.
I slump in the seat, playing with a button on my coat. “Maybe I see it because I’m one of those things that go overlooked.”
Sometimes even by the man I loved more than anything.
The thought brings on a familiar onslaught of guilt. After my dad died and my mom got rid of the phone he’d given me—along with everything else I inherited—my anger turned on him too. He left me with her while he lived his dream, and his dream is ultimately how he left me forever. But then I realized it wasn’t fair to him.
The world shows us everything up front, and whether we look is on us. I learned young to hide what people don’t like to see—spare them the burden. I can’t blame my dad for believing I wouldn’t. He thought I missed him, not that I needed him to stay too.
A beat passes before Roman reaches in front of me to open the glove box. He places two fingers on a soft pink envelope and slides it straight out and into my lap. I squint at him, picking it up while he closes the compartment.
“Writing me love letters, Roman Moore?”
He pulls a face, clearly offended by the thought. “If I come across as someone who writes love letters, I need to reevaluate my shit.” He tips his chin to the envelope. “Open it.”
I unceremoniously tear through the flap, ripping the top. My head tilts, eyebrows slanting at the card inside. “What…?”
“It might be a little early, but you mentioned it the other day. I didn’t want you to think I didn’t hear you.”
A greeting card.
“I’m outta here.” I read the sparkly font on the front, arching over a black graduation cap and matching tassel sitting side by side in a convertible and driving into the sunset.
My throat tightens, lashes violently trying to stop the burning in my eyes. The well of emotions is something I immediately want to escape. I fight to shove them down so I don’t fall prey to any others they may unleash.
“Congrats, graduate.” Roman rubs my cheek with the backs of his knuckles, and I swallow, battling still. He plucks the card from my hand and returns it to the envelope. “Read the rest later. When I’m not there.”
I laugh through the threat of tears. “So it is a love letter then if you don’t want me to read it in front of you.”
He holds it up between two fingers for me to take with a look, and I cut the defense mechanism, giving a halfhearted smile.
“Thank you.” I tuck it in my bag as my phone goes off. One quick pulse that makes my eyes clamp shut for a second.
Not needing me to say anything, Roman sobers. The air in the car tenses along with him. “You need to go?”
I check the message from Daniel, ordering me to the house. “Yep. The king’s holding court tonight.”
The reminder of dinner tonight writhes in my stomach. I’ll wear a dress chosen by him, my performance required to uphold all the smoke and mirrors. Sit, eat, and if I can’t speak without being a “disrespectful cunt,” remain silent.
I almost never talk.
“Do you want to run away with me?” I ask Roman, cocking my head.
“Tempting.” He lightens up enough one side of his mouth hooks. Not my favorite smile, but I like this one too. “But if you stopped showing up to classes now, I’d have to take the card back.”
Fair enough .
The sun’s starting to set when he drops me off to walk the last two blocks. I’m already over it, considering a revisit to the abduction strat again. But conflict swims in Roman’s eyes, so I grab the door handle.
“Promise I’ll see you soon?”
“Yeah,” he says, solemn, resigned. “See you soon, Remington.”
Slipping my strap over my shoulder, I walk to the sidewalk. I draw out the trek by stopping to fish my earbuds from the bottom of my bag.
“Remi, wait.” Roman’s car door shuts behind me.
When I rotate, he’s rounding the trunk on his way toward me. Before I can ask why, his strides close in. He hasn’t even stopped yet when he pulls me into a hug. His arms encircle me, one hand on the back of my head and my face pressed into his shirt through his unzipped coat.
“I’m fucking looking at you, pretty girl. You’re not unnoticed. I see you.”
Suddenly it hurts. Everything hurts so much. A silent sob works up my throat as I throw my arms around his middle. I sink into him and close my eyes, trying to absorb every bit I can of the moment. The warmth, the touch of skin on mine, the pressure as he crushes me tighter.
Without another word, Roman lets go, leaves me on the sidewalk, and drives away.
I feel cold again, missing all the things. Other than Sage, no one’s hugged me for a long time. I kind of wish he hadn’t now, so I wouldn’t have to realize it. But I’m really glad he did.
Since I’ve been summoned, I can’t sneak in through my window and chance my emergency escape hatch being bolted shut. Daniel nor my mom has noticed my lack of coming and going through doors, but they’ll be paying attention tonight. Every move and breath stand trial during these dinners.
I’m so close to never enduring another one again.
The chief puts these on whenever he needs the minions to swarm around and reinforce the power and control he holds over everyone. Those invited bow at his feet, and anyone who feels slighted kicks up the ass-kissing a notch.
He has his favorites who come most often. I hate both of them.
I’m almost to the house when one rolls up on me. Elvin makes the air taste acidic. I can’t think of a much better way to describe being in the presence of his shaved head, boxy build, and wildly inflated sense of self-importance. Especially when he drops his voice real low and talks to me like we share a secret. I fear the toxin getting in my mouth, lungs, and on my skin.
He creeps along in his cruiser while I act oblivious with my earbuds in. It works out until I need to cross the street. Elvin accelerates to beat me and turns onto the cross street, stopping and blocking the path. He hangs out his window, and I begrudgingly pop out an earbud.
“It’s cold,” he says. “Get in. I’ll take you the rest of the way.”
I want to point out he has to turn around now, which will take longer than if I walk. Not that I’d ever willingly get in a car with him. Instead, I bite back half the snark and simply say, “No.”
“I thought you’d appreciate the ride.” Low. A secret. “Come on, Remi.”
“No,” I repeat. Slow. A fuck off.
I dismiss him with a once-over and dodge around the rear of his car.
If I have my way, I’ll speak nothing else until after dinner.
* * *
I have my way. Maybe not in the blue floral dress hung on my doorknob when I went upstairs. Certainly not by ending up squeezed between the favorites at the table. But I don’t utter a single syllable the entire time.
No one even bats an eye, thanks to my mom’s hazy smile, her dropping her water glass mid-drink, and the apology she stutters out in slow-mode. Not that anyone dared bat a speculative eye at any of that either.
“Migraine,” Daniel explains. “Rebecca’s been suffering with one all week, and the effects on her … That’s what happened here.” He brushes his thumb over the split above her eye, covered in foundation. “A dizzy spell got the best of her.”
One of the wife’s fucking awww while bile breaches my throat.
His hand finds my mom’s, bringing it onto the table, displaying his devout affection for his poor love to the audience. “Why don’t you go lie down, honey?”
She’s pliant as he helps her from the table and to the stairs, which she manages to disappear up without crawling. I stare at my plate, not eating after the performance.
With Mrs. Kane safely stowed out of sight, Daniel catches my wrist after dinner before I can escape to my bedroom.
“Help clean up, won’t you?” His grip tightens enough to warn but not enough to show.
I jerk my arm down, breaking his hold and meeting his stare while I grab a plate. He moves everyone to the den for drinks. I swipe my mom’s surprisingly untouched wine glass, gulping most of the red down on my way to the kitchen. Then I empty the rest of the bottle and polish it off too.
Completing my task, I fold over the top of the kitchen island and hide my face in the crook of my arm. I need a minute to just be. But I should know better.
“Such a good little wife you’ll make.”
His voice lands on my skin like pellets of acidic rain. I straighten, rotating to Elvin slithering his way in from the hallway. My lip curls at the comment, but I continue my wordless streak as I move for the other doorway. He slides in front of me with a smirk.
“What the fuck is your problem,” I spit out.
His gaze drops to my chest, so I cross my arms over it. “Chief’s told me a lot about you. What you get up to.”
I huff a derisive breath and maneuver around him, only for another body to swing around the corner. The other favorite, Marlo, fills the doorway. He plays the part of a golden retriever. He looks it too with bouncy blond hair and a quick smile. But his actions come off forced, as if right below the surface waits teeth and the instinct to attack without warrant.
“Hey, Remi,” he says. His eyes bounce from me to Elvin and back. “Did I interrupt something?”
“Nope.” I step, but he stays anchored, and when I feel Elvin shift closer behind me, I dig my nails into my palms.
“I was just about to tell her how nice she looks tonight,” he says.
“Ah.” Marlo nods. “The chief has said how much you like to express yourself with your outfits.”
The shudder happens even before Elvin’s finger draws down my back, over the dress’s fabric that covers it entirely. “Like this one, right, Marlo? What does it say to you?” Another finger runs down the sleeve to where it stops halfway down my arm.
“Let. Me. Leave,” I grit out. My breaths shallow, throat constricting from the acid and bared teeth caging me in. “You are both fucking disgusting.” I try to turn for the hallway, but Marlo presses closer. I shove him in the chest, gaining nothing other than another grin of misdirection.
“Now, Remi, that’s not very ladylike. Then again, you’re not a lady from what I hear.” His gaze lifts to Elvin behind me. “You saw how she pushed me. You think she likes it rough?”
I’m light-headed, the kitchen tilting as I struggle to inhale. My chest’s about to crack open from the beating it takes from my heart.
“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Elvin toys with a strand of my hair from behind, and I feel his face right over my shoulder. “She dresses up for us, practically begs for a hard fuck. She checks all the boxes for a hot little slam piece.”
I throw all my weight back into Elvin, catching him off guard and forcing him back a step. Marlo backs off too, chuckling while giving me an up-down. Then he just leaves. I whip around, already putting distance between me and Elvin. He smiles, tilts his head.
“Next time you need a ride, call me.” His voice lowers, the hush returning, but this time it matches his words. “I can keep a secret too.”
I blink after him as he waltzes away. Suddenly I’m alone in the kitchen. I don’t stay, not tempting a replay of whatever the fuck just happened. I steel myself and rush upstairs. By the time I lock my bedroom door and secure every pillow at the bottom, I’ve surfed the waves through terrified to numb to confused to fucking livid.
The seams of the dress rip as I tear it off of me, and I smash it down into the trashcan in my bathroom.
I crank on the shower, setting the water near scalding before stepping under the spray. My lower lip trembles while my skin burns. No other way to cleanse a memory like that from your soul other than scorching it off.
By the time I finish, my whole body has tinted pink. I return to my bedroom in only a thong. I crash down on my bed, rolling onto my back and staring at the coffered ceiling without putting anything else on. There isn’t a point. They just proved the clothes never mattered.