ROME
Chapter fifty-four
“Y-yeah.”
“It’s a good thing he won’t be getting out. Whatever lawyer Rain has proved to be very good.”
I nod and turn my attention to Kilah beside me, trying to find anything to distract me. I’d asked them to stay again tonight, and they were more than happy to keep me company.
My already aching chest tightens at the sight of the yellow bruise on Kilah’s left cheek. “How are you feeling, K?”
“Rome,” she groans. “Please stop feeling bad. You were out having fun for once. You didn’t know he was coming. You didn’t do this to me.”
“I didn’t protect you, Kilah.”
“Yes, you did. You always have.” Placing her cup on the coffee table, she tucks her hair behind her ears, exposing the healing scar on her hairline. Encasing my hand in both hers, she gives me a stern stare. “I’ve never seen you get violent, but when you saw what Dad did, you didn’t hesitant.”
“That’s not the point, Kilah.”
“It is. You can’t be everywhere at once. You deserve to be living your life. You’ve put everyone else first your entire life.”
“She’s right,” Mum agrees with a soft smile, tears spilling over her bottom lashes.
“The day we brought the twins home when you were four, I remember you promising them you would protect them, and you have, Rome. I didn’t.
Don’t blame yourself for something I should have done.
I drove him to your house. The girls opened the door because of me. ”
“You tried, Mum,” Kilah whispers. “You were fighting him the best you could.”
I grip Kilah’s trembling hands, ready to promise them a better life, but all our heads turn to Indie stepping down into the living room, with green goo all over her face.
“What?” she asks. “Why is everyone crying? Please don’t tell me Rome still feels bad.” Before anyone can speak, she points at me. “Stop feeling bad.” Kilah bursts out laughing and Indie hikes a hand on her hip. “Don’t be a bitch, K.”
“Your face,” Kilah wheezes.
“I’m trying out a new mask. When my face is glowing and radiant, you won’t be told what it is.”
“Honey.” Mum smiles. “Is that avocado?”
“No,” Indie snips. “It’s one I bought when we went shopping with Rome.” Plopping down beside Mum, she crosses her legs and sips her tea, looking at Kilah. “I know what you’re thinking, and fuck you.”
“Indie,” Mum chastises, feigning a laugh.
“Shrek,” Kilah snickers.
“Bitch.” Indie smiles against her cup.
Kilah squeezes my hand then takes her cup. Resting her head on my shoulder, she turns her attention to the TV, some reality show playing. I’d never enjoyed these shows, but it’s comforting to hear the girls laugh, always has been.
Mum and I have slowly begun repairing our relationship the past week. It’s taking time, but we’re getting to a better place. She spent the morning spilling all my childhood memories to Rain—some I’d rather she didn’t—and he listened intently, wanting every detail.
I found out Rain’s middle name is Asher, after his uncle who had the same eidetic memory, one who originally taught Rain about computers and cybersecurity.
Rain called my coach and said I had food poisoning so I wouldn’t be able to attend training tonight.
We then spent the rest of the day in bed together, fucking, talking, and basking in one another.
When he left, I have no shame in admitting that I sat in the shower with tears streaming down my face, clutching his silver chain that hangs around my neck.
His last words to me were a profession of his love, and then, ‘I’ll see you soon’.
“Rome,” Kilah calls. I flick my eyes away from the fire. “What’s wrong?”
A tear drips from my chin as I set down my cup and walk out of the room, yelling over my shoulder, “Stay here.”
Her footsteps follow behind. “Where are you going?” My heart hammers as I slide on my tennis shoes and corduroy jacket and then snatch my keys and open the front door. She grips the door, panicked eyes searching mine. “What’s going on?”
“Stay. Here.”