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There was more tension and silence between us than I had ever felt in my life. Turning back to Roman, I left, another piece of my soul shattering.
“You want to tell me what the fuck that was about?” Roman said, shutting the hotel door harder than necessary.
“No, not really,” I said and sat on the bed.
He slowly paced in front of me. “Really? Because I’ve never seen a display like that. How she treated you was unacceptable.”
My gaze snapped up. “Are you serious right now?” He stopped right in front of me and crossed his arms. “You do the same thing to your mother!”
He just stood there, a perplexed look on his face. The fact that the similarities seemed to be lost on him was incredible.
“I do not, and that is an entirely different issue. There are reasons for the tension between my mother and I, but your parents? There is none.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know you,” he defended. “You don’t deserve that shit. I’m sorry they lost a child, but they have you. Why in the hell would they treat you like—”
“Because they blame me!” Tears gathered in my eyes, and Roman look
ed at me like I was the crazy one. “They blame me for what happened to Lauren, okay?”
“Why would they do that?” he said softly.
“Because I’m responsible.”
The moment the words left my lips, a rush of terror surged and I clamped my hand over my mouth. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t take back what had just slipped out.
The truth.
“Amy.” He knelt before me, cupping my face and coaxing me to look at him. “Tell me what happened.”
“It’s my fault,” I said.
The more I spoke, the lighter and more terrified I felt. But this was it. All of it. If Roman wanted to know, I’d tell him, because the alternative—keeping it hidden, pretending I wasn’t to blame—was slowly killing me. I had to let him know. Then he could make of it—and me—what he would.
“I knew she had been using. I picked her up from a party and instead of taking her to the hospital, I took her home.” More tears ran down my face and a lump stuck to my throat. “Sh-she had a delayed overdose…died in her sleep. If I h-had just…gotten her help—”
A strangled sob cut through my lips and gut-wrenching pain overtook me. Why had I done that? Why had I taken her home? If I had made a better choice, the right choice, she may still be alive.
I chanced a look at Roman. He was kneeling, looking up at with me with a mask of pure rage on his face.
“I-I’m sorry,” I stuttered, terrified that I was on the brink of losing him too. “I never meant to—”
“Don’t you dare apologize,” he said and clasped my face in his hands. “You listen to me.” He shook me gently, and I found myself locked in his intense gaze. “Amy, this isn’t your fault. You hear me?” His face was so tight with raw anger, it burned all the way to his eyes. “I want to rip your parents apart for making you think this. You did nothing wrong.”
“But I did,” I breathed.
“No,” he snapped. “Lauren took those drugs, not you. She made her choices. You loved her and tried to help her. This. Was. Not. Your. Fault.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and more tears came, spilling to my cheeks, over my jaw, and down my neck. Everything began to blur together. I thought of how Lauren used to laugh. She’d been so likeable. So good.
“She’s gone,” I sobbed. “It doesn’t get easier.”
Roman pushed the hair off my brow and continued to hold my face between his hands.
“She’s still a part of you. And living this way, with this kind of guilt, thinking only of her death instead of her life, is doing a disservice to her and her memory,” he said softly. “You need to let go of the end, sweetheart, and hold on to how she lived.”
My breaths were coming faster, the pain in my chest reaching an all-time high. No one had ever been so amazing. Paige knew and was supportive, but Roman made me believe that I just might be able to move on. Let go.
