Chapter 17
Palmer
Roman grumbled the entire time I led him up the stairs, but he didn’t pull away. Which surprised me. I fully expected the big, broody fire chief to refuse me outright.
When we reached his bedroom door, I slowed to a stop.
An uncomfortable feeling slid through me.
I had never been inside Roman’s room. During my first week, I’d asked whether I should collect his laundry, and he’d shut that down immediately. He could handle his own things. Since then, I’d avoided this room like it was off-limits.
As I hesitated, Roman’s hand tightened around mine.
“I’m fine,” he said, but he sounded uncertain and tired. “I can take care of myself.”
I tensed. “Well, you don’t have to.”
With that, I mustered every ounce of resolve and pushed his bedroom door open, tugging him inside.
His room smelled like him—cedarwood, but without the usual hint of smoke that clung to his clothes after long shifts at the station.
The bed was neatly made, the space orderly. The only sign of disarray was a full laundry basket sitting in the corner.
I didn’t release his hand until we reached the side of the bed.
Turning him until he faced away from the mattress, I gently guided him backward until the backs of his knees bumped it.
I kept my hands on him longer than strictly necessary. One was on his waist, the other hovering near his chest like I was afraid he might tip over the wrong way if I let go. Roman stood there obediently, shoulders rising and falling with slow, uneven breaths.
He stared down at me.
It wasn’t with the guarded, assessing look he usually wore, or the careful one he used when Hailey was nearby. This was different.
His gaze dragged over my face like he was seeing me for the very first time.
My stomach flipped.
His eyes were dark, unfocused in a way that felt dangerous. Intense. They lingered on my mouth.
“Roman.” My voice caught. “Sit down.”
He didn’t move.
Instead, his head tilted, brows pulling together as if he were trying to solve a puzzle. He lifted a hand and touched the side of my face, thumb brushing the top of my cheekbone.
What was he doing?
My mouth opened, but no words came out. The skin where his rough, callused fingers touched me was suddenly sensitive.
“You’re very close,” he murmured.
Heat crawled up my neck. “I—I’m making sure you don’t fall over,” I stammered.
His mouth twitched, not quite making it to a smile.
“I won’t fall,” he said slowly, sorrow flickering across his face. “I fell once…and it nearly ruined me.”
My chest tightened, but then his hand moved, distracting me. He pushed back a few strands of hair from my forehead, then his fingers dragged down through the loose tendrils toward the ends.
I swallowed hard. My throat was suddenly very dry. “Roman, you’re sick.”
“Mmm.” The sound rumbled in his chest like a soft purr. “Your hair is so soft…and so golden.”
The room felt smaller suddenly. The sound of my breaths echoed in my ears with the thrum of my pulse. He was delirious. He had to be.
I shifted my weight, meaning to step back, but he followed the movement and leaned forward so we were still the same distance apart. That hand slid from my hair to my shoulder and dragged down my arm.
A shiver went straight down my spine. My palm landed on his chest, and I couldn’t tell whether I wanted to push him away or get closer.
“Tell me, Golden,” he whispered. “Do you shine this bright for everyone?”
I stared at him, eyes wide. Golden?
For a moment, I couldn’t make a sound, but then his fingers brushed the inside of my wrist. Was he trying to hold my hand?
I forced myself to speak. “You’re delirious.”
He grinned, and my heart stuttered. “Maybe.”
I shook my head, trying to clear it. I had to focus.
“Sit.” The word sounded more like a demand than an instruction.
He stilled, his grin widening. “What am I? A dog?”
Flustered, I said, “You should lie down.”
Heat radiated off him in waves, and I tried to use the simple fact of his fever to steer my thoughts to what actually mattered. He was sick. He needed medicine and rest.
I needed to stop letting him distract me.
He was talking nonsense anyway.
I clenched my jaw, gathering every ounce of determination I had. I let go of his hip and planted both palms flat against his chest, shoving as hard as I dared.
His body collapsed onto the edge of the bed. He let out a quiet grunt, shoulders slumping forward.
I blinked, surprised with myself, but he still didn’t lie all the way down. He sat there, staring up at me with that faint, infuriatingly amused glint in his eye.
“You’re impossible,” I grumbled.
“No,” he said, voice so low I felt it in my stomach. “I’m sick. Remember?”
I stared, thrown by this sudden shift from his normal behavior, but I recovered quickly and shook my head. “That must be some fever.”
Without thinking about it at all, I dropped to my knees in front of him.
All amusement vanished from Roman’s face.
I didn’t quite know how to read the expression that replaced it, but his pupils dilated, and his breathing seemed to stop altogether.
I frowned up at him, confused. Then I turned my attention to what I’d knelt down to do and reached for his left boot. As I started to untie the laces, he made a strangled sound—like a stifled gasp—and my eyes snapped back up to his face.
His skin was redder than before.
“What?” I tugged at the boot.
“N-nothing,” he said quickly.
A strange heat curled low in my stomach at the look on his face.
I pulled off his first boot, then the second. When both were off, I sat back on my heels and shot him a pointed glare. “Now lay back.”
He didn’t move.
For a heartbeat, he sat there, big and stubborn and unbearably still. Fever-bright eyes held mine.
I folded my arms. “Now.”
Something shifted in his expression. It wasn’t quite surrender, more like reluctant amusement. With a low sigh, he finally reacted.
He lowered himself back until he was stretched out across the bed. Head resting on a pillow, he flung one forearm over his face like he needed to block out the light.
The tension bled out of my own body in a rush.
I sat beside the bed, trying to pretend my pulse wasn’t still racing. “Good.”
A soft, gravelly huff escaped him that might’ve been a laugh.
“Bossy,” he murmured.
I ignored the way that word sent a strange flutter through me and pushed to my feet. I started toward the door, but his voice stopped me.
“Where are you going?”
I glanced at him from over my shoulder. His arm was still covering his eyes. “I’m going to get you some medicine and water.”
His lips pursed. “There’s Tylenol in the drawer of the nightstand. There’s a cup in the bathroom by the sink.”
I tilted my head, but didn’t question him on it.
Moving to the nightstand, I opened the drawer and froze.
There was a bottle of medicine in the drawer, but that wasn’t what caught my attention.
It was the picture.
The edges were slightly crumpled, like it had often been handled.
I recognized Roman immediately. His dark hair was shorter than it was now, his skin smoother.
He was holding the hand of a woman in a hospital bed.
She was beautiful with thick, curly hair and bright-green eyes. On her chest was a tiny, pink baby.
The woman’s eyes were on the baby—but Roman’s were on her.
My stomach clenched.
It was Hailey’s mother. I recognized her from another picture in Hailey’s room, but Roman wasn’t in that one. It was the way he was looking at the woman, with utter love and devotion, that captured all my focus. I’d never seen so much emotion on his face.
It was obvious that he had loved her fiercely.
I glanced back at Roman. I was so sad for him, but there was also another feeling stirring. One that was darker and stung like the venom of a wasp.
It seemed a lot like jealousy.
But there was nothing to be jealous of. I had no claim on Roman or Hailey. I was supposed to be keeping my distance and protecting my heart.
I snatched up the bottle of medicine and snapped the drawer closed.
I let out a long breath and headed into the en suite bathroom. I filled the glass on the vanity, trying to push thoughts of the picture out of my mind. It had absolutely nothing to do with me.
When I stepped back into the bedroom, a pair of slate-blue eyes halted me.
He hadn’t moved, but I couldn’t read him, not when he was feverish and unpredictable.
He tracked me as I forced myself to move. Slowly, I made my way back to the side of his bed.
I held out the pills and the water. “Here you go.”
He propped himself up on one elbow. His face was paler now that the flush had retreated.
I stepped closer than I meant to, near enough to feel the heat of his skin.
He swallowed the pills, then drained half the glass before handing it back to me. His fingers brushed mine, and I pulled away too quickly, almost dropping the glass. He caught it and set it on the nightstand.
“Sorry,” I mumbled.
His gaze never left my face as silence settled between us.
I hovered awkwardly, not sure what to do with my hands, my body, or the way my heart was thrashing in its cage.
“Can I ask you a question?” he eventually said.
My brows knit together. Roman didn’t ask many questions. “One.” I nodded. “Then you need to sleep. You’ll never get well if you don’t rest.”
A corner of his mouth twitched. “I think I like this bossy side of you.”
I inhaled, deep and slow, trying to keep myself calm. “I’m only bossy when you’re acting like a stubborn child,” I scolded.
He blinked at me, and then he laughed again. That genuine smile of his had surfaced more tonight alone than the entirety of my stay so far.
Before he said something else ridiculous to distract me, I said, “What’s your question?”
That sobered him. His expression shifted to the serious tone I was accustomed to.
His brows narrowed. “Why are you alone, Palmer?”
The words hit close to that tender spot inside my soul that I never wanted to examine. I sank to the floor, afraid my legs would collapse, and leaned my elbows on the side of the mattress.
“What do you mean?” I breathed.
He watched me with that intense gaze. “Hailey said that you told her you didn’t have a family.
” He shifted on the bed, his body tilting closer to mine.
“You don’t have to tell me what happened to them if you don’t want to.
But—” He paused, and reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind my ear.
“I want to know more about you, Golden. I’ll take any little scrap you’re willing to give. ”
I went so still I wasn’t even breathing.
Not many people asked about my past. The truth was, I’ve never had many real friends.
No one cared enough to ask me where I’d come from or what I’d gone through.
I usually poured everything I had into the kids I took care of.
They were safer, in a lot of ways. They might burrow into my heart, but they didn’t care where I came from. They only cared about who I was now.
Roman waited patiently for my answer. I thought about not giving him one. It would be smarter not to. Safer.
Instead, I found myself talking. The words flowed out of me as if he’d given me permission to let go.
“When I was around Hailey’s age—I can’t remember when exactly because my memories from back then are foggy—DCFS took me away from my father.”
Roman did not move. He didn’t speak. His stillness encouraged me to keep going.
“I never knew my mother. She left us when I was a baby and never returned. When I would cry about wanting her, Dad said she was never good at being a mom anyway, so I shouldn’t miss her.
” I let out a breath. “I think he missed her, though. He was constantly drinking to forget her. Sometimes, when there was nothing left to eat and he drank the last bottle of beer in the fridge, he’d tell me about her.
Only when he was too drunk to remember the next day, he’d get really close and tell me how much I looked like her.
He’d tell me that he’d kept me because he liked to see her in the color of my eyes. ”
I jumped when Roman took my hand. His expression hadn’t changed, but his fingers tightened around mine.
“He never hurt me, or anything,” I said quickly, as if having an alcoholic for a father wasn’t bad enough.
“He just didn’t really take care of me. By the time I was around Hailey’s age, I was fairly good at taking care of myself, but…
there were some signs I couldn’t hide no matter how hard I tried. ”
I shrugged, but there was a knot in my stomach so tight I felt nauseous. “I grew up in foster homes until I was an adult. Some were good, and some…not so good. Either way, no one liked me enough to keep me.”
I dropped my gaze to our entwined hands, suddenly drained. Neither of us spoke for a long moment.
“My daughter likes you enough to keep you,” Roman said, voice soft.
There wasn’t any pity in it, though, and I appreciated that.
One side of my mouth lifted, thinking about sweet Hailey. I nodded, because I knew it was true.
Silence settled around us, but it wasn’t heavy or uncomfortable. It was almost peaceful.
I should probably get up and leave, but most of me didn’t want to. It was getting late, though, and Roman needed sleep.
I let out a sharp sigh, gathering my strength to finally stand, but Roman’s hand squeezed mine.
“Don’t go.”
When I looked up at him, his eyelids were heavy, as if he were fighting every blink to open them.
“You need to rest,” I insisted, but I still didn’t move.
His eyes closed and this time, they didn’t open. “Better stay to make sure I listen,” he breathed.
I almost smiled. He was stubborn, and I should’ve gone back to my room, where it was safe.
Instead, I stayed. Eventually, he relaxed and his breaths evened out.
I could probably gaze at that man forever. That realization should’ve sent me running from his bedside.
But my body was a traitor, like always.
His hand was still wrapped around mine, and I shifted slightly, trying not to wake him as I got more comfortable. I was so tired and I laid my head down on the edge of the bed.
I listened to Roman’s breathing, steady and rhythmic.
My mind was drifting off, teetering on the edge of oblivion, when Roman’s gruff, soft voice whispered into my ear.
“I might want to keep you too.”