Chapter 27
Eloise
Last night had been amazing.
Until it wasn’t.
It started with Roman showing up at my door and staring at me like I created the moon and stars. He kissed me like he never wanted to stop and made love to me like…like he loved me.
But then he left. Without a word. Or text. Or note. Nothing.
By the time I finished cleaning myself up and tossing on some sweats, he was gone. Like he was never there.
Save for the open and slightly crinkled letter on my kitchen counter. The one from Amy, a reply to my letter.
And I knew I’d fucked up.
My attempts to reach out to him, to explain, were met with silence. Texts went unanswered, calls right to voice mail. For how he opened up to me, he certainly shut down even easier.
I knew he was pissed. There would be no other reason for him to ignore me, but I deserved to be heard out. We needed to have a conversation about this.
I loved him, and even though he might assume I contacted Amy for other reasons, it was only to help. I would only ever want to help him and Mazie.
But with every hour that passes, my own anger rises.
I thought he would be more mature than this, giving me the cold shoulder.
No, we’d never officially declared anything about each other, but we were together.
I didn’t need to label him as anything other than mine.
I hurt him, but his ignoring me hurt too, and nothing could be solved in this endless cycle.
Trying to take my mind off it, I ended up at Sweet Cheeks at five in the morning and worked straight through for hours with music in my headphones and flour on my hands.
It’s not until after noon that I finally take a break.
As I’m lugging trash out to the bin in the back, a familiar black monster of an SUV pulls into the lot.
Then the familiar figure steps out, his dark eyes finding mine immediately.
“Why are you outside without a coat on?” he asks, his breath forming clouds in front of his mouth.
“Because I was running the trash out, but then I saw you and… What happened?”
“You want to talk? Now?”
I shrug. Now is as good a time as any. “Why not?”
He mumbles a curse and yanks off his coat to put around my shoulders. The fleece is warm, and it smells like him. I slide my arms into it, pulling it tight around me, and inhale deeply until my eyes sting. Roman’s hard, angry features cause my throat to clog.
But he doesn’t speak. Merely folds his big arms across his even bigger chest. The place I’d lain my head yesterday, listened to his heartbeat. Now, he might as well be a stranger. Less than that.
An enemy.
I swallow down the lump in my throat and cling to indignation. He has to hear me out. It’s not fair he ignored me all night. It’s not okay that he’s purposefully trying to hurt me.
“Why did you leave?” I ask. “Why didn’t you answer any of my calls or texts?”
He scrubs his hand over his face and hair, his posture losing some of its rigidity. Like maybe he can’t hold on to his resentment or whatever it is he’s feeling about me right now. It takes him a while, but finally he answers, “I didn’t want to say anything I’d regret.”
“But I’d rather have you be mad at me and talk about it than completely shut down and shut me out. That hurts. I—”
“It hurts?” He scoffs. “How about finding out the person you trust most in the world has been communicating with the person who destroyed that world? How about that fucking hurt, Eloise?”
I flinch at his tone. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“But you did. You went behind my back and contacted her. After everything I told you about her, about everything that went down, you still thought it would be a good idea to talk to her. Without talking to me.” He slaps at his chest like a wounded animal.
I wounded him, and I take a step toward him. He takes one back. “Why did you even do that? How did you know how to reach her?”
He asks his questions like I’m a threat.
I guess that’s how he’s interpreting it.
“The other week…I saw a letter she sent you. It was in your kitchen, and I felt… I was heartbroken reading it. For you and Mazie, and for Amy, and after everything that’s been happening with Sloane, seeing the breakdown of her family, I guess…
” I blink away my tears, trying not to back down in the face of his contempt.
“I was trying to help. I thought maybe if she changed—”
“Changed?” he interrupts, his laugh bitter and cold. “You think she’s changed because she wrote you a letter? You don’t know her, Eloise. You don’t know what she’s capable of.”
My heart aches at the torture in his voice, but I won’t be made to feel guilty for trying to mend a broken family. “But she wants to be involved. Why can’t you hear her side?”
“Her side?” He throws his arm out, his voice rising to a near shout. “Her side of the story is continually choosing drugs over her own daughter. Over our relationship. Goddamn, Eloise!” He turns in a tight circle, cursing before facing me again. “How fucking naive are you?”
The words burn, but I stand my ground. “I’m not naive. I just believe in second chances. You got one. She should too.”
Roman leans in, his voice a low growl. “And what about your own family, Eloise? How many chances have you given them? How many times have you let them walk all over you?”
I jerk back, shocked by the sudden shift in the conversation. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“It has everything to do with it. You can’t even stand up to your own parents. How the hell do you think you can tell me how to fix my family when you can’t even fix your own?”
I think it would have hurt less if he’d tackled me to the ground.
For the way the air is knocked out of me, it feels like he has.
I stumble back a few steps, my breath lurching as I surrender the fight with my tears.
I’ve always struggled to assert myself with my family, to make them see me for who I am, rather than who they want me to be. But that doesn’t mean I’m incapable of understanding the complexities of Roman’s situation.
I sniff a few times, wiping my cheeks with the backs of my hands.
“I may not have all the answers, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care.
That doesn’t mean I can’t see the love you have for Mazie, the sacrifices you’ve made.
” I take a deep breath, my voice cracking.
“And I don’t know why you’d punish me for trying to help.
I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about it, but I didn’t want to bring it up if nothing came of it.
I was only trying to help, and I don’t think…
” I clear my throat, blink until my vision clears.
“I didn’t think you’d so easily believe I’d hurt you on purpose.
I didn’t think you’d throw what you know about my family back at me. ”
His expression softens for a moment, a flicker of regret in his eyes, but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared. “Eloise—”
I hold up a hand, cutting him off. “You’re not the only one who’s allowed to be angry. You’re not the only one who’s allowed to feel betrayed.”
Silence hangs heavy between us. He lets his chin dip, his attention on the pavement as his jaw works like he’s chewing on his words, and I’m suddenly all out of fight. So I give him the last of my truth. “I thought I loved you. I thought you loved me. But I guess it was really fake after all.”
I can see the impact it has on Roman, the way his face pales, his fists clench at his sides. But I can’t take it back. I’m not sure I want to.
For a long moment, we stand there, watching each other.
His shoulders rise and fall with every breath, unaffected by the bitter November chill even as I wear his coat.
Meanwhile, I’m freezing, not from the cold but from the space between us.
The hole opened up clear through my chest that’s allowing the wind to whip around inside me.
The three feet that separate us might as well be three miles, and I can barely hear him when he speaks again. “I don’t know what to say.”
I bite my cheek, struggling to find my voice in the chaos of my emotion, and I have to clear my throat a few times before I can speak. “I don’t know either.”
Stupid.
This is all so stupid.
How we went from being on top of the world to being buried underneath it.
Or, at least, that’s how it feels for me.
Like I’m clawing through six feet of dirt, losing my grip, gasping for air.
An eternity passes before Roman moves. He steps forward and extends his arm, his hand out toward me, and for a second, I think he’s going to touch my chin. He’s going to pinch it, his thumb and forefinger squeezing, his eyes caught on my lower lip.
I think that’s what he’s going to do, but he doesn’t. His hand lands heavily on my shoulder. “You should go inside. It’s cold out.”
I breathe out a rough laugh at my assumptions. At my fantasies that seem so ridiculous now. Making more of what we had than there was.
And this feels like the end.
I start to take off his coat, though he doesn’t remove his hand from my shoulder, almost like he wants me to keep it on.
The idea kills me.
Actually stops my heart.
My broken fucking heart.
“Here.” I shrug, taking off his coat before I can think twice or he can stop me. I hold it out to him, and even though I have trouble keeping his gaze, I can feel it on me. He’s slow to accept the coat, and I shake it at him. Silently begging him.
Please, don’t make it hurt worse.
When he finally accepts it, his fingertips brush mine, and it’s amazing how that tiny touch ricochets through me.
Maybe because I fear it’s the last one I’ll ever have.
“I think…” His voice is rough, and he pauses for a second before continuing. “I think maybe we need some time. To think.”
I nod even as my heart cracks further. He’s right. We both need space to process this. But the idea of not seeing him, not talking to him, feels unbearable.
Still, I force myself to say, “Yeah. That’s probably for the best.”
Another endless moment passes, and I force my eyes up to his. They’re red-rimmed. He seems to be on the verge of speaking, his lips parting then pressing together again. But whatever it is remains locked away.
Better for it. I’m not sure I’d be able to handle it without completely crumbling.
I gesture vaguely behind me. “I’ve, uh…gotta get back.”
He nods but keeps quiet, and it takes me much longer than I’d like to admit to turn away from him.
At the back door to Sweet Cheeks, I chance a glance over my shoulder to find him glaring at the ground, mouth moving in words I can’t hear, and there is one part of me that wants to go back to him, comfort him.
Yet there is another, bigger part of me that’s finally breaking through the wall of keeping the peace. That voice is telling me to stop being a doormat. To hold my ground and speak up for what I want and demand to be treated with respect.
I just hate the voice only showed up now. When it came with a cost.