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I turned the burners on again and finished making dinner. A few times, I walked over to the stairs to listen for sounds of Roman stirring. I ate dinner by myself at the kitchen table, then packed the leftovers in several containers. I left a note on the counter in case Roman woke up hungry in the middle of the night.
The house was quiet as I made my rounds, checking all the locks. I stood by the sliding glass door at the back of the house and watched the snow still falling. A few inches had already accumulated. Maybe tomorrow school would be cancelled.
Roman
Sunlight. Slow breaths. A warm vanilla scent. Smooth sheets rustled against my skin. Something soft tickled my bare chest.
No screams tearing through the air.
I blinked my eyes open. Dark outlines of tall, bulky furniture. I stretched my legs, grateful they didn’t fall off the mattress. Pins and needles prickled my arm and I turned. Juliet. Curled on her side, using my arm for her pillow. Her hair spread out and wild was the source of the sweet scent and ticklish brushes against my skin.
Ignoring the tingling in my arm, I pulled her closer.
“Mmm,” she hummed in her sleep.
This wasn’t a dream. I’d made it back to her.
At the edge of my mind, vicious memories waited, anxious to replay themselves on a loop.
I brushed Juliet’s hair aside and kissed her shoulder. Slowly breathing her in, I pushed back against the darkness and tumbled into sleep.
The next time I woke, I was alone.
Sunlight flooded the bedroom.
I sat up slowly, sharp pains and dull aches reminding me of how close I’d come to death.
Juliet appeared in the open doorway. “Morning.”
I reached for her. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”
“I wanted you to sleep.” Her smile faltered as she came closer.
“I don’t like waking up without you.” I realized how needy that sounded and my cheeks burned. To cover, I glanced at the clock. “Aren’t you going to be late for school?”
Her lips curled. “Which is it, Roman? You don’t want to wake without me, or you want me to get to school?”
I ducked my head and laughed. God, I’d missed her.
“It kept snowing. There’s a two-hour delay.” She held her crossed fingers in front of my face. “I’m hoping it switches to a full snow day.”
“Shit.” I flipped the covers back. “I better shovel the driveway so you can get the car out.”
“Whoa.” She pressed her hand against my shoulder. “Easy. I want you to rest. I pushed the snow off the sidewalk with a broom. I’ll try to clear a path for the car in a few minutes.”
“The hell you will,” I growled. “You’ve lost your damn mind if you think I’m gonna lounge around in bed while you’re busting your ass.”
I pushed myself to the edge of the bed and winced at the pain in my shoulder.
“Roman,” she pleaded. “You’re…injured. I want you to rest.”
“All I need to do is move. A little manual labor will help.” I rolled my shoulders and twisted my neck from side to side. I felt about a hundred and eighty instead of eighteen.
Juliet huffed an annoyed breath and left the bedroom. I snagged my pants off the floor and wrinkled my nose. At some point I needed to go buy some damn clothes.
“Here.” Juliet returned with a red and white tube in her hands. “Mrs. Shields must have been in more pain than she let on. She has tons of this stuff all over the place.”
I stared at her as the familiar heavy menthol scent filled my nose. “Bengay? Are you serious? My grandmother used that.”
“It’ll help. I used it when I hurt my knee in gym class.”
“Who hurt you?”
“I did.” She squirted a generous blob of the white cream in her hands. “Turn around.”
My back probably looked like a horror show. But her warm, slippery little hands felt so good, it was worth the embarrassment.
The menthol burned my sinuses but was oddly comforting. She stopped rubbing around my shoulder blades.
“You done?” I asked in a sleepy voice.
“These look like scrapes and…burns. I don’t want to—” Her voice broke on a sob. “Roman.”
“Shhh.” I turned. “I’m okay.”
“What happened to you?”
My gaze dropped to my hands. In the harsh sunlight, the raw scrapes on my wrists stood out. She knelt in front of me, curling her fingers around mine.
“What happened to your wrists?” She traced a line that went all the way around.
“Please, Juliet. I don’t want to talk about it right now.” Or ever. “I can’t.” I hated shutting her out, but I couldn’t even find the words to explain. And I didn’t want those images in her head.
Her jaw set in a firm line but then her shoulders dropped and she nodded. My girl was stubborn, yes, but more than that she was compassionate. “Okay.”
