Chapter 22 Julianna
TWENTY-TWO
JULIANNA
I have no idea how long I’ve been trying to convince myself I’m tired enough to fall asleep. My conversation with Rome feels like hours ago, and I haven’t stopped replaying it in my mind.
The sound of his voice as he pleaded with me to listen to him. The way he spilled his guts, refusing to tell me he hated me. Then he had the fucking audacity to bring up the words he told me before our wedding day.
Honestly, up until he’d had a bouquet of roses delivered to me before Charleigh’s wedding ceremony, I hadn’t thought about that day again. It’s too heartbreaking to think about telling Rome I was pregnant, and him convincing me he’d love me even when we’d be corpses rotting underground.
I believed him wholeheartedly then, but it only took about two months for him to prove me wrong.
The sheet is wrapped tightly around my thigh as I toss and turn to my other side for the millionth time. My skin is sticky with sweat and my heart is pounding in my chest. I feel shackled, the chains of Rome’s love refusing to break.
I meant it then and I still mean it now.
Was he referring to when he’d confessed I was the love of his life? Or did he mean the rotting in the ground part? Or maybe he was talking about the moment he told me he’d be by my side every step of the way through my pregnancy?
What a crock of shit that turned out to be.
Rome Montgomery isn’t capable of commitment. Catching my husband kissing and touching Macy has forever been a stain on my memory that I wish I could erase forever.
But I can’t.
Then there’s the fact he can’t even be bothered to share any details about who is after us. How could I ever trust him when all he’s done is put distance between us?
There’s no denying the difference in his plea this time, though, like he truly meant the words coming out of his mouth. Could he really want things to be different? Do I?
Frustrated, I toss and turn again, the sheets getting even more tangled between my arms and legs.
I can’t breathe like this. I kick and pound my fists against the bed like a toddler throwing a tantrum until the sheets loosen.
Grinding my teeth, I groan before stopping and staring at the ceiling to catch my breath.
Tears prick the corners of my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall.
I’m strong, I’m independent, I’m this new version of Julianna. The carefree one.
Right?
Then, why do I wish Rome were laying with me?
Unwillingly, my mind wanders back to earlier when Rome kissed me. Kissing him feels like coming home, like the serenity and peace of this cabin and the land surrounding it. Safety and comfort. Electric and exhilarating all at once.
I clench my thighs at the thought of Rome tasting and touching me. His fingers feathered my skin, singlehandedly bringing me to life. I was pliable, every inch of me igniting while he savored me.
I liked it—no, I loved it—and I didn’t want him to stop. Shit.
Pulling myself up, I read the time on my phone.
It’s one in the morning, and aside from my erratic breathing, the house is silent.
There’s an unread message from my dad and another from Selene, asking when I’m coming home because my nephew misses me.
My heart cracks at the thought. I absolutely adore Luca but it’s difficult to look at him without thinking of her.
I ignore the message from my dad, knowing it probably has to do with the fact he ran into William Trent’s father at some social event. The thought makes me fucking sick.
Curiosity eats away at me. I open my social media and search Rome’s name. I’ve only typed the third letter in when I hear a creak outside my bedroom door.
My pulse races as I hold my breath, waiting to see if I hear it again.
Crack!
I gasp, my attention darting to the window in the bedroom. The large tree outside sways in the storm. Of course, it’s fucking raining again. A long, thin branch flails around in the wind, scratching against the window, sending a chill down my spine.
Boom!
Another pounding from outside the bedroom has me snapping my head in the other direction again. Either it’s like this every night with Rome somewhere around the house, or this is something else. Or someone.
The chill slinking down my spine turns into full blown panic when the pounding grows closer.
Shit. There’s no lock on the bedroom door. What if the person after Rome and me is here? What if they’ve already killed Rome and are heading here to take me out next?
I’ve watched one too many crime documentaries for this shit.
Scrambling out of the bed, I snatch one of the heavy metal candlesticks from on top of the dresser and hold it over my head.
Slowly creeping toward the bedroom door, I prepare myself for whatever is on the other side.
I picture a masked man dressed in all black clothing with equally black beady eyes.
The thought terrifies me, but I need to find Rome. I may be confused about where we stand, but it’s better than staying here and getting murdered.
I open my mouth to shout his name, but if the person after me truly is here, I don’t want to alert them. So, I snap it shut and try to breathe as quietly as possible.
When I reach the door, I wrap my hand around the knob and slowly turn it.
After opening it a few inches, I peek out into the hallway.
There’s no one there. Then again, it is completely dark.
It takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust before I’m pushing the door open wider, hoping I don’t hear the sound again.
I glance down both ends of the hallway before stepping out.
Raising the candlestick higher in the air, I’m shaking with nerves as I cross the threshold.
A loud yelp climbs out of my throat when my foot hits a solid rock.
I fly forward, toppling over the rock and landing face first onto the hardwood floor.
The candlestick flies out of my hand, scattering across the floor and down the stairs, echoing throughout the house.
“Ow.” A deep, heavy voice groans under me. “What the hell, Lark?”
“Rome?” Pain blooms across the front of my body. My shoulder aches as I twist to lay on my side and look down at my feet, where Rome is tangled.
“It’s me.” He rolls to his side, gripping my ankle.
Relief washes over me as I roll from my side, too, onto my back. I blow out a heavy breath as Rome’s hand slides up my leg to my hip. He hovers over me. It’s hard to see him clearly in the dark until he leans down close enough to my face and cups my cheek.
“Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself again?”
I don’t push him away this time. I don’t refuse his help. Instead, I chuckle, finding the humor in it all—me thinking someone was in the house, me tripping over him. I push my hair from my face.
“I’m okay.” I blow out a breath, still laughing. “Wait.” I stop laughing and stare up at my husband with pinched brows. “Why were you on the floor in front of my room?”
His hand slides away from my face, and he sits back with his arms resting on his bent knees.
I sit up myself, fixing my unkempt hair.
Rome doesn’t answer me. He simply smooths his hand over his dark hair.
He’s wearing a pair of black sweatpants and a dark gray T-shirt.
My attention drops to the blanket and small, square, striped pillow I recognize from the sofa in the living room.
Then I see the pistol peeking out from under the pillow.
“Have you been sleeping out here every night?”
He presses his lips together, turning to look at his makeshift bed. “Um, yeah, sort of.”
“Sort of?”
“Yeah.” He nods. “The door doesn’t have a lock on it.”
A lump forms in my throat and I have to swallow around it just to get air to my lungs. My stomach somersaults, and heat spreads across my body. He’s been sleeping on the floor every single night, guarding me.
“It doesn’t have a lock,” I state the obvious. “But that doesn’t mean you needed to sleep on the floor every night.”
“Yes, it does. My wife is sleeping in an unsecured room while there’s someone out there trying to kill her.”
“Us,” I say, ignoring the way I melt with every word that comes out of his mouth. “Kill us.”
He smirks. “Right. They’d have to get through me before they’d get to you, though.”
I chuckle, a tiny pain returning to my chest. I hit the floor hard and massage the spot as Rome scoots closer.
“You always seem to be tripping,” He jokes, glancing at my chest. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I am always falling, aren’t I?” I laugh on a breath. “But, yeah, I’m good.”
I can tell by the expression on his face he doesn’t believe me. Why would he when all I’ve done is push him away at every turn?
“I promise I am this time,” I try to reassure him.
“What made you come out?”
“I thought I heard someone breaking in.”
“Was that your weapon?” He looks past my shoulder toward the stairs.
“Yep.” I nod. “A candlestick made of lead makes for a perfect weapon.”
“I’m sure.”
I inhale a deep breath, the pain subsiding in my chest. “I’m still sort of freaked out.” I admit.
He turns back to me wearing a full-on grin. “Do you want me to make sure your room is clear? I’ll even look under the bed for monsters.”
“You’re ridiculous.” I playfully slap him with the back of my hand.
He catches it and runs his fingers along mine. We lock eyes, and I don’t want him to leave. My defiance is crumbling. I wish I were stronger than this, but love and hate have made me weak.
“You can check my room if you want,” I whisper.
He stands, grabs the pistol, and holds his hand out for me before pulling me up.
We step back into the bedroom, with Rome letting me go and raising his gun with an outstretched arm.
I untangle the sheets before climbing back into bed while he searches the room in the dark.
He peeks into the closet, flipping the dim light on before turning it off, then he moves to the bed and falls to his knees.
He gives me a smug grin before bending down and looking under it.
“Oh, my God, I thought you were kidding.” I groan, unable to wipe the grin from my face.
“Nope. Doesn’t hurt to conduct a thorough search.”
He looks hilarious on his knees in nothing but relaxed clothes, with his thick muscles and a million tattoos. There’s always been a hard and soft contradiction to Rome.
“All clear. No monsters.” He stands, planting his hands on his hips. He tosses his head to the side, toward the door. “I’ll be out there if you need anything.”
I follow his gaze and stare at the closed door. Even when I didn’t know it, I’ve been shutting Rome out. When he’s truly been there all along, protecting me.
I turn back to look up at him. “Don’t go back to sleeping on the floor. Stay with me.”