Page 149 of When a Soul Cries

Then I looked toward the ceiling.

“And now my nose running. Wonderful.”

I tossed the tissue toward the trash can.

Missed.

I stared at it.

“I'll get your ass tomorrow.”

A weak laugh slipped out.

That was the thing about me.

I'd learned a long time ago how to laugh while something hurt.

Maybe that's why I wanted to meet Sol.

Not to inspect her.

Not to decide whether she was good enough for my son.

I wanted to meet her.

Because I understood something Rome couldn't.

A woman who'd had control stolen from her didn't need somebody coming into her life—even with good intentions—and taking control all over again.

That's why I'd told Rome to listen. Give Sol choices. Help where she allowed him. Never make that girl feel indebted because he had resources she didn't.

And if this turned into something deeper, Rome needed to be sure he was ready.

Ready for a serious relationship.

Ready to trust again.

And ready to understand that loving Sol would eventually mean making room in his life for Halo too.

That wasn't something he could play with.

Sol didn't need a man playing superhero.

She needed safety without strings attached.

And maybe…

She needed somebody who understood.

My chest tightened.

I hadn't even met that girl, but I already wanted to feed her, sit her down, love on that baby and let her know she didn't have to explain a damn thing to me.

If she wanted to talk, I'd listen.

If she didn't, we'd sit there and watch TV.

And if Rome started getting too bossy?