Page 116 of When a Soul Cries

I pressed my lips together.

Don’t cry.

Please don’t cry.

But I was so fucking tired.

I looked down at Halo.

She had one tiny fist wrapped around my shirt.

And whatever strength I had left disappeared.

A sob pushed out before I could stop it.

I covered my mouth.

Rome’s expression changed immediately, the hardness leaving his face as he watched me break in front of him.

I shook my head and tried to pull myself together, but my shoulders had already started trembling.

“I’m trying,” I whispered, barely able to force the words through my tightening throat.

The words barely made it out.

Rome didn’t say anything.

He just stood there watching me, his face heavy with concern.

That somehow made it worse.

Another sob broke through.

I held Halo tighter and squeezed my eyes shut.

“I swear to God, Rome…” I choked out, my voice shaking uncontrollably.

My voice shattered.

“I’m fucking trying.”

For the first time in three weeks, I didn’t have enough strength left to pretend I was okay.

I kept my eyes on the road, but every few seconds they drifted toward the passenger seat.

Sol hadn’t said much since we pulled away from that motel.

She sat turned slightly toward the window with the baby tucked against her chest, one arm wrapped underneath her and the other spread protectively across her little back. Her eyes were swollen from crying, and every so often she sniffed quietly and wiped beneath her nose with the back of her hand like she was embarrassed for me to see even that much.

I’d seen this woman twice before today.

Once beneath those ugly-ass fluorescent lights at Cash Market, wearing that red vest and looking like she was one rude customer away from walking straight out the building.

Once across from me at a diner, exhausted but still beautiful, pretending like whatever was weighing on her wasn’t heavy enough to crush her.

Then tonight.

Running from a woman screaming at her in the middle of a parking lot.