Chapter 29
Roman
She was an idiot.
Palmer was supposed to stay where it was safe.
Instead, she stood right in front of me, staring at me like I was the most important thing she’d ever seen in her life.
It was thrilling and terrifying, like a knife twisting in my gut.
I stopped a few feet short of the SUV. “What are you doing here?”
I couldn’t believe she’d come back.
Her bandaged fingertips tugged nervously at the sleeves of her cardigan. She didn’t answer right away, eyes lowered like she was bracing for a scolding.
My jaw tightened. “Palmer.”
Still nothing.
She wouldn’t look at me.
I closed the distance between us in two strides and slid my fingers beneath her chin. I tipped her face up toward mine.
My mouth went dry.
I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed her until she was gone.
“Why did you come back?” I asked, quieter this time.
Her lips pressed together before she finally spoke.
“Because I couldn’t stay away,” she said softly. “I want to be by your side, Roman, even if you don’t want me anymore.”
The words hit me square in the chest. She had only been here a few weeks, and yet it was like she’d bore into me, into places I hadn’t allowed anyone to touch in years. The issue wasn’t that I didn’t want her…it was that I did.
I was furious she’d come, and relieved she was here.
Did she understand the kind of danger circling us now?
I should’ve sent her right back to the safe house, where she was protected.
But when I looked at her, I didn’t see recklessness. I saw loyalty hard as steel behind her eyes.
My grip on her chin softened. My thumb brushed along her jaw before I let my hand drop.
“Come on.” I stepped closer so my body shielded hers from the cold. “Let’s get you inside. You’ve got to be tired.”
Her shoulders relaxed.
I couldn’t take her hand with her palms wrapped in white gauze. Instead, I held her wrist carefully, like she might splinter if I was too rough.
Shoving down the rising panic, I led her past my brothers, who lingered on the porch. They followed as I pulled Palmer inside the house, but stayed in the foyer as we continued up the stairs.
I wanted to bring her straight to her room. She seemed exhausted.
Her eyes were heavy and shadowed in purple. She couldn’t have slept much since she left. She’d only been at the safe house one night before turning around and coming back.
When we reached her door, I hesitated. I took her in, her bandaged hands and her lovely face.
Damn, I had missed her. She wasn’t even gone that long and I had felt her absence like a gaping wound inside my chest.
Even though she was tired and exhausted, my gaze dipped to that perfect mouth.
The memory of kissing her surfaced. I hadn’t expected her to come back, hadn’t considered standing this close to her so soon.
She smelled like the shampoo I’d used to wash her hair.
My stomach clenched, the confusion and guilt contorting my insides.
Palmer stood very still.
I knew what I wanted to do. But wanting wasn’t the same as what was right. Logically, I knew that kissing Palmer—that wanting Palmer in every way a man could want a woman—did not diminish my love for Jess.
But why did it still feel like a betrayal?
I let out a slow breath through my nose and subtly leaned back, putting a fraction more space between us. Something flickered in her expression…disappointment, maybe. I ignored it.
“Let me see your hands,” I said after clearing my throat.
She let out a breath and offered them to me. I cradled them carefully.
My hands dwarfed hers. I held them for a moment, inspecting the bandages. They were a little dirty and loose; she’d probably been using her hands more than she should.
“Let’s get you taken care of.” I pulled her into her room.
When we made it to the bathroom, I started to slowly unwrap them. She stood very still, watching me silently.
At least her wounds did seem better. The blisters hadn’t grown as big as I’d feared.
The skin was healing. I checked for redness and signs of infection before cleaning them.
I was focused as I applied antibiotic ointment and rewrapped them.
We didn’t speak about Jess, or the dorm fire, but it hung between us like a veil of uncertainty and grief.
When I was finished, I didn’t let go right away.
Instead, I slid my grip from her palms to her wrists. My thumbs brushed the inside of her sweater under the fabric at the cuffs, grazing her bare skin.
At first, she didn’t react and I let my thumbs move higher, brushing up along the inside of her arms.
She tensed and jerked her arms away.
Avoiding my gaze, she wrapped her arms around her chest.
“Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head. “No. You didn’t.”
I waited for her to explain, but she remained quiet. She probably didn’t want me touching her like that. I shouldn’t be touching her like that.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered. I dropped my hands to my sides.
Sighing, I tilted my face up toward the ceiling. “You really shouldn’t have come,” I said quietly.
She was silent for a long time. When I lowered my chin, she was staring at me with so much guilt that I almost reached for her again.
My face softened. “But I’m glad you did anyway.”
“You are?” she asked, doubtful.
I swallowed, suddenly unsure of myself in a way that I was not used to. The truth was complicated. I was glad she had come back, relieved as if something inside me had been clenched and finally loosened the second I saw her step out of that SUV.
But underneath that relief was something darker, something colder that refused to let go—fear.
I looked at her hands, freshly wrapped in clean white gauze. My throat worked before I forced the words out. “You should be somewhere safe.”
Her fingers curled into her sweater. “I thought I was safe with you,” she whispered.
I lifted my gaze to hers, and she was watching me the way she always did—open and honest, like she trusted me completely.
“You are,” I said, softer now.
Her breath hitched, and the sound went straight through me. For a second, I thought about closing the distance between us, about pulling her into my chest and keeping her there.
Instead, she leaned forward until her forehead touched mine. “And I want to keep you safe, too,” she said.
My body hummed at her proximity, at the scent of her. Her words were like a balm on my ravaged heart. She would never need to take the burden of protecting me, but the fact that she wanted to meant everything.
Yet shame burned in my chest like a hot coal, scorching away those soothing sentiments before they could settle. A small voice whispered that I had failed Jess, and I didn’t deserve the happiness that Palmer offered.
“You need sleep,” I murmured.
She frowned, but neither of us moved.
After a moment that stretched too long, I forced myself to step back. “I’ll be downstairs,” I said. “If you need anything.”
Her eyes never left mine, but the disappointment on her face was unmistakable this time.
“Okay,” she breathed.
I turned before I could change my mind, before I could do something reckless…like admitting how badly I wanted to kiss her.
I closed the door softly behind me and stood there in the hallway for a long moment, staring at my boots, trying to steady my breathing and convince myself I still had control.