36. Roman
ROMAN
Everything hurts, but I don’t care.
I’d take the same beating ten times over if it meant we got the same result.
Ophelia is ours now. Her father has relented. We can return to Verona Falls.
A part of me—a big part—felt like I deserved that beating.
Maybe if I’d felt differently, I’d have put up more of a fight.
It had been inevitable, in so many ways.
I’d terrified Ophelia that day at the facility.
A more stable man would have just cut her abuser’s throat and walked away, but instead I’d taken things too far.
Damaged goods, that’s what I am, and ought to fucking pay penance for terrifying her that way.
I slide in and out of consciousness, unsure how much time passes. All I’m aware of is the purr of the car’s engine and Ophelia’s presence beside me. She talks to me softly, stroking the uninjured part of my face and holding my hand.
She is the best of everything.
To think not so long ago I’d convinced myself we’d have been better off without her around. Now, it feels as if I can’t breathe when she’s not with us.
At some point, the engine stops, and I realize we’ve come to a halt.
The rear door opens beside me, and Cain’s arms gently wrap around my middle, lifting me out of the car.
The movement sends fresh pain stabbing through my ribs, and I grit my teeth, doing my best not to scream.
I think he’s going to take me away from Ophelia, and I panic and shout her name—though it only comes out as a mumble. I can’t be without her right now.
“I’m right here, Roman,” she says, taking my hand again. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I don’t deserve her. Broken. Damaged. Fucked up. Weird . The words go around in my head, like a carousel of self-hatred.
A stranger in white clothing rushes out of the building, pushing a wheelchair.
For a split second, I’m back at the facility and the stranger is that man who hurt Ophelia.
Then my brain flips back again, and I remind myself this is a different place.
I don’t want to hurt the people who are trying to help me.
Not that I’m in much of a state to hurt anyone.
My entire face throbs, and my chest stabs me with shooting pains every time I breathe.
Did those fuckers crack a rib? It wouldn’t surprise me.
The guys help me into the chair. I want to protest, feeling like an invalid, but I don’t have the energy. In some ways, it’s a relief to just be able to give in. I don’t want to keep fighting. It feels like I’ve been fighting my whole life, and now I only want peace.
The hospital staff wheels me inside. Ophelia sticks to my side the entire time, and I know Malachi and Cain are close. I sense the worry vibrating off them. I’m not going to die, I’m sure of it, but I might be a little bruised up for a while.
“We’re going to need a couple of x-rays,” one of the staff tells me. Then he turns to Ophelia. “You can wait outside.”
“No,” Ophelia replies. “I’m coming with him.”
“It’s not a good idea to expose yourself to an x-ray if you don’t need to.”
But she stands firm. “I’ll take the risk.”
“I really don’t think?—”
“I’m not leaving him.” She raises her voice. “It’s non-negotiable.”
If I wasn’t so injured, I’d give her a high five.
“Fine, but you need to wear a protective vest,” the man relents.
“That’s fine. I can do that.”
X-rays are taken, with Ophelia close by at all times, then I’m wheeled into a private room where a nurse cleans up my injuries and puts stitches in the wound near my temple.
I’m given some painkillers, and the exhaustion and shock of what I’ve been through, combined with their narcotic effect, sends me falling into the waiting darkness.
When I wake, Ophelia, Cain, and Malachi are all in the room with me.
I feel more like my old self—even though one eye is swollen shut—but when I try to sit up, a fresh bolt of pain zings through my ribs.
It’s joined by the horrific throbbing in my upper cheek.
Jesus, it feels as if a truck hit me. I want to put my head through the wall behind me to stop the pain in my cheek, eye, and jaw. Christ, even my ear hurts.
“Fuck.” I grunt. “Are my ribs broken?” It’s hard to speak properly, as my face not only hurts but feels tingly and numb.
Ophelia steps closer to the bed. “Good to see you awake.”
“Are they broken?” I insist. All I can think about is how badly that kind of injury is going to incapacitate me. Broken ribs stop you from being able to move around for weeks.
But Malachi grins. “No, you’ve just sprained the muscles between your ribs.”
“Seriously? How the fuck does it hurt this much?”
He chuckles. “Think you just have a low pain threshold.”
I fall back against the pillows. “Asshole.”
Cain moves to the other side of the bed. “You have fractured your cheekbone, though. You got lucky, and the bone hasn’t been displaced, so you’re not going to need surgery. Don’t go getting hit in the face again any time soon, though, or that might change.”
Well, that explains the horrific pain, the tingling, and the reason I sound drunk when I talk.
“Damn, there go my weekend plans. Is it going to spoil my good looks?” I try to make light of the situation and play down the pain, mostly for Ophelia, as I don’t want to scare her.
Ophelia smiles at me. “Nah, I think it just makes you look more rugged.”
I place my fingers on the bandaged spot at my temple. “And the stitches?”
“That might leave a scar,” she says, “but it just means we’ll be matching.”
She touches her own scar, and I find myself smiling.
“We will, won’t we?”
I like the idea of us having something that’s the same. Something just between the two of us. It feels as if the longer we spend together, the more things bind us.
“How long am I going to have to stay here?” I ask.
Cain purses his lips. “The doctor wants you to stay twenty-four hours for observation.”
I snort. “Not going to happen.”
Ophelia curls her fingers around my bicep. “You took a pretty bad blow to the face. You might be concussed.”
I glance at Cain. “What about your father’s men? They’ll be expecting to meet us at Verona Falls.”
“Yeah, but they can wait,” he replies. “Let’s give it another couple of hours, just in case.”
Ophelia nods. “That sounds like a good compromise.”
Malachi joins Cain and elbows him in the side. “Come on, let’s go find some coffee and something to eat. There must be a cafeteria around here someplace.”
“Coffee and a sandwich sound good,” I mumble, though I’m not sure how easy it’ll be to eat with a fractured cheekbone. I imagine I’m going to have to chew carefully for a few weeks.
“Sorry,” Cain says. “Liquid diet only for a few days, then soft foods for a month, the doctors said.”
I groan.
Ophelia doesn’t get up out of her seat. “Can you bring me something? I’ll stay here with Roman.”
Cain smiles at her. “Sure thing. We’ll see you guys soon.”
They both leave the room, and I’m alone with Ophelia again.
There’s something I want to ask her, though saying the words out loud fills me with a familiar sense of shame.
I force them out. “Did the doctor ask about the marks on my back?”
“No. They work for my father. They know when not to ask questions.”
I relax a tiny fraction. With everything that’s happened, it should be the least of my concerns, but I hate the thought of strangers speculating and gossiping about me. I want to tell them to mind their own goddamned business, but it looks like I don’t need to.
I catch Ophelia staring, her lips folded in on themselves, twin lines between her eyebrows.
I narrow my remaining good eye at her. “You’re looking at me strangely.”
She ducks her head. “I’m sorry. It’s just every time I look at you, I’m reminded of what my father did, and it hurts.”
I squeeze her hand. “I hate that it bothers you to look at me.”
Her eyes well with tears. “I’m so sorry my dad did this to you. I don’t blame you if you hate me now.”
I frown at her, confused. “Hate you?”
“I deserve it. You asked me to stay away from you and the rest of the Preachers, and I didn’t listen. I practically forced myself on you, and look what happened.” She touches the tips of her fingers to her lips.
“I could never hate you. I love you. There’s nothing you could ever do that would make me hate you. Even if your father dismembered me, limb from limb, that I love you would be the last thought I ever have.”
She barks out a sob. “You’re a little crazy, you know that?”
“Yeah. I think we’re all a little crazy around here.”
“You’re not wrong.”
It hurts so much to talk, and I’m exhausted, but I don’t want to miss a second of the chance to communicate with her any time I can.
Especially when it’s just the two of us.
I’m not jealous of the other guys, but these precious times when it’s only me and her are too important to waste feeling sorry for myself or giving in to the pain.
She climbs onto the bed and curls into my side, careful of my sprained ribs. “This is all going to be okay, isn’t it, Rome? Now we’re going back to Verona Falls, and we’ll have Cain’s men protecting us, and my father knows I’m with you guys. It’s all going to be okay.”
I hug her closer and try not to wince at the pain in my ribs. “Yeah, baby. It’s all going to be okay.”