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I kept up these swirling, infuriating, frustrating thoughts the entire drive home, pulling up beside Roman's car in my drive. He was climbing the steps and looked back at me over his shoulder and, just like that, my thoughts finally quieted. Because I had never seen Rome look as beat-down as he did right in that second. I threw my car into park, grabbing my stuff in a rush, slammed my door, and almost ran up the steps to meet him inside my front door.
"Rome, what's up?" I asked, watching him hit the code before turning back to me, giving me a second to stash my bag, phone and keys.
"Guess you haven't seen the news," he said, his voice almost hollow.
"No," I said, shaking my head as I followed him into the kitchen. I couldn't remember the last time I actually watched TV. I caught that movie with Rome and then about two minutes of the game Paine was watching, but that was it. "What's on the news?"
"We got robbed, Else."
"Robbed?" I repeated, moving toward the coffee machine to make a fresh pot.
"An entire truckload of cold medicine meant for all the pharmacies in the state."
"Cold medicine?" I repeated, brows drawing together.
"It's a fucking PR nightmare. You have any idea how tightly that shit is regulated now? We tried to keep it quiet when we first investigated, but we had to report it and now it's all over the news."
"Aw, Rome... I'm so sorry. I wish I had known... I could have..."
"Nothing you could do, Else. Besides, you have your own stuff going on."
"Stuff?" I repeated, not liking the tone he used.
"I was going to drop in last night. I had pizza and another movie..." he paused, looking down for a second before meeting my eyes. "You had a car out front."
Shit.
Well, I guess it wasn't going to be as awkward a subject to bring up as I thought. "Rome..."
"It's the tattoo guy, isn't it?" he asked bluntly.
"How did you..."
"Else, I've known you your entire life. You get dragged out of a bar by that man then come back in lips all swollen and bent on drowning something in alcohol. It wasn't too hard to come to the conclusion something was going on there."
"I was planning on telling you tonight. I just... it's new and I wasn't..."
"I've loved you all my life," he cut me off, the sensation of a stab wound searing through my stomach. "Around sixteen, seventeen, it became more than that."
"Why didn't you ever tell me?"
He let out a humorless laugh. "And fuck up the chance to spend my time with you because you didn't reciprocate? I'm not stupid, Elsie. I knew you always saw me as a brother. And I would always rather have a best friend who was clueless to the fact that I was in love with her, than to never get to see the woman I loved again because she felt guilty for not loving me back."
"I love you Rome," I said sadly.
His hand covered mine and squeezed. "But not like that."
"No," I admitted reluctantly.
"So I need to let go already," he said, dropping my hand.
"Rome," I said, my voice a plea.
"I'll always be here for you. Always. But I need to move on." He moved toward me, arms going around my shoulders, pulling me against his chest. I always liked that about Roman, his hugs. All other guys put their arms around my waist to hug me, leaving me to put my arms around their shoulders. Rome was always different. My arms went around his waist tight, tight enough that I knew I was making it hard for him to breathe, but not caring. He pulled against my hold, dropping a kiss on my forehead. "I'm glad you found someone. I want you to be happy."
"I want you to be happy too," I agreed, feeling the familiar sting in my eyes and I knew I was going to start crying.
"Don't," he said, knowing me too well. "It's not goodbye. No crying," he said, pulling away and putting yards of space between us.
See, the thing was, in a way, it was a goodbye. It was a goodbye to the intimacy of our friendship that I had always viewed as chaste and due to knowing each other so long, but was really the result of his feelings for me. It was the end to me feeling comfortable talking about sex and boyfriends with him.
I heard the door open and the bleeping of the alarm started. My eyes shot to Rome who had a look of resigned understanding. The bleeping stopped and Paine's footsteps came toward us. As soon as he was in the kitchen, he made a beeline for me, putting an arm around my waist and kissing the side of my head. And it was such a clear message that he was claiming me that the knife thing started in my stomach again.
