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“Was it the guards?”
I clenched my jaw and stared out the window.
“I have other kids in there,” she said.
“Well, I hope you do a better job for them than you did for me.”
She pulled the car into the empty driveway and shifted it into park. “Is anyone home?”
“How should I know?”
She sighed and twisted in her seat, reaching for something in the back. She dragged my old backpack up front. I snorted when I saw it—a relic from my former life.
“What the hell am I supposed to do with that now?”
“I don’t know. I kept it for you. In case…”
It was heavy but I didn’t bother unzipping it to see what was inside. I didn’t care.
She reached behind her for again, then handed me a folder. A small white envelope was clipped to the front. I flicked it open and stared at the cash.
“We usually give something to kids when they…”
“Get thrown into the big, bad world?”
“Yes.” She touched the folder. “There are some numbers in there. People you can call to help you adjust…”
“Thanks, but no.” I rolled the folder and shoved it in the front pocket of my backpack. “Can I go now?”
I didn’t wait for her answer. I grabbed my shit and shoved the door open.
“Good luck, Roman.”
The door made a satisfying clunk when I slammed it in her face.
Chapter Forty-Six
Juliet
Fat snowflakes fluttered from the overcast sky and stuck to my windshield. First snow of the year. Roman’s birthday was today. Would they finally let him out? I hadn’t heard from him since Mrs. Shields passed away. Mr. Potter promised he had a plan if Roman wasn’t released after his birthday.
A terrible thought wouldn’t stop nagging me. What if he’d already been released to another facility far away that wouldn’t let him contact me? None of my letters had been returned, but that didn’t mean anything.
Frustration flowed through my veins and I gripped the steering wheel so tightly my fingers ached. I rolled into the driveway and shut the car off.
Something on the front porch caught my attention.
A man.
My heart leapt into my throat and my hand moved closer to the key in the ignition.
Then he tipped his head up.
“Roman!” I flung my door open and raced over the yard. “Oh my God. You’re here!” I shouted, not caring who overheard me.
He stood slowly. His blank expression made my heart stutter, but I kept moving until I had my arms around him.
He winced and I stepped back. My gaze lingered on his black eye and split lip.
“What happened? Did you get mugged on your way here?”
He silently shook his head.
I grabbed his hand, also raw and battered, and dragged him into the house.
“Roman, who hurt you?”
He didn’t answer with words. His haunted green eyes captured mine as he kicked the door shut.
I jumped at the noise but the expression on his face didn’t change.
“Do you still love me?” he asked.
“How can you ask me that?” I couldn’t hide the hurt in my voice. The time away had changed him. Hollowed his cheeks. Sharpened his already hard edges. But it was more than the physical changes. The playful gleam in his eyes had been stolen. His spark dulled.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were getting out?” This zombie version of Roman scared me to my soul. I wasn’t afraid of him. I was terrified of what had happened to him. “I’m so happy to see you. You must be starving. Let me get you something to eat. If there isn’t enough, we can run to the store.” Fear forced an endless stream of chatter out of my mouth. I turned and stepped toward the kitchen.
Roman’s hand wrapped around mine, halting my escape. He yanked me toward him.
“Are you still my girl, Juliet?” His blank expression shifted into need.
“Roman,” I whispered. My heart raced, warming me all over. He pressed his palms against my cheeks. The chill of his hands jolted me. “How long were you out there? You must be freezing.”
“Kiss me.”
He covered my mouth with his, swallowing my answer. It didn’t matter, my answer would always be yes.
He inhaled a sharp breath, then slipped his arms around my waist. His tongue slicked along my bottom lip, and I opened to him. The warmth flowing between us sent shivers of excitement through me.
I’d had this dream so many times. Thank God, he was real. Here in my arms. In my living room.
“You came back for me,” I whispered.
“Where else would I go, butterfly?” His hands left me for a moment. He shrugged off his sweatshirt, tossing it on the couch behind him.
“I don’t know. You haven’t responded to any of my letters lately. I know they were silly but—”
“They weren’t silly. Your letters kept me alive, Juliet.”
His words were so solemn, I didn’t question him or suggest he was exaggerating.
