Page 54 of When a Soul Cries

I was not about to cry. Not here. Not in front of him. Not over this damn car.

Rome appeared beside the driver’s window, the smile completely gone from his face. “What happened?”

I ignored him and turned the key again.

Click.

My throat tightened.

“Sol.”

“I’m good.”

Rome leaned down slightly, one arm resting along the top of my door. His eyebrows pulled together as he looked from me to the dashboard. “You clearly not.”

“I said I’m good.” The words came out sharper than I intended, and the slight change in his face immediately made me feel bad. I closed my eyes and exhaled. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.”

I leaned my forehead against the steering wheel and closed my eyes. Of course. Of fucking course. Because apparently almost being homeless wasn’t enough. My car needed to break down too.

Rome didn’t say anything for a moment. I could feel him standing there, but thankfully, he wasn’t asking me what was wrong or telling me to calm down. Then his voice came from beside me, calm and steady.

“Pop the hood.”

I lifted my head and looked at him. “Rome—”

“Pop the hood, Sol.”

Something about the way he said it made me stop fighting. I reached down and popped it.

He disappeared around the front of the car, and I watched through the windshield as he lifted the hood and leaned over the engine. For several minutes, he checked what he could. I didn’t know what the hell he was looking at, but I watched him anyway, my knee bouncing uncontrollably beneath the steering wheel.

Finally, he lowered the hood and came back toward me. “You gonna need somebody to look at it.”

I swallowed. “Okay.”

“I’ll call a tow.”

“No.”

The word flew out before he finished. Rome paused, phone halfway out of his pocket.

“I can handle it,” I said, sitting straighter.

His eyes stayed on me. “I didn’t say you couldn’t.”

“I’ll call somebody.”

“You know somebody?”

My mouth opened, but nothing came out.

Rome waited.

I hated that silence because it answered the question for me. His expression softened, but thankfully, there was no pity in it. He simply pulled out his phone.

I wanted to argue. I wanted to tell him I didn’t need him saving me. I wanted to tell him I had it handled.