Page 115 of When a Soul Cries

Rome stood beside it.

Rain dotted his shirt.

He wasn’t looking at me at first.

His eyes traveled over the motel.

The broken railing.

The flickering sign.

The men standing outside.

The cracked doors.

Then he looked at Halo.

At the diaper bag hanging from my shoulder.

Finally, his eyes came back to mine.

Something in his face changed.

Not pity.

That would’ve been easier.

It was realization.

His jaw tightened.

“Tell me you are not staying here with that baby,” Rome said, disbelief and concern fighting across his face.

My throat closed.

I couldn’t answer.

Rome took one slow step forward.

“Sol,” he said again, quieter this time, his eyes never leaving mine.

I looked away.

Because suddenly I wasn’t hiding anymore.

Not the apartment.

Not the car.

Not the job.

Not the three dollars in my pocket.

Not the fact that everything Halo and I owned was hanging from my shoulder.

“You’re staying here?” Rome asked quietly, looking from me to the motel and back again as the truth settled over his face.

My bottom lip trembled.