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With that, I turn my back, leaving him to sob on the floor.
Seconds before the door slams behind me, I call over my shoulder, “Get the fuck out of my town, Marcus, and stay the hell away from my woman.”
I may hate this town and all it stands for, but I’ll be fucked if I leave her again after this.
Even if I have to make her hate me in the process.
The rope digs into my palms, its coarse texture gnawing at my skin as I tightly clutch it. My toes caress the soft grass, grounding me in this moment of fleeting adrenaline. I thrust myself away from the Earth, letting the tire swing carry me back and forth.
Birds sing their sweet songs, bugs hum, and the wind blows like it’s just another day. But my cheek throbs in time with my heart, reminding me that it’s anything but. It’s different.
I’m different.
The collision of my online and real life was something I never thought would happen. I was always supposed to keep them separate, and until Roman, I had. But he waltzed back into my life, shoving the door open, and finding me in my most vulnerable state.
And I baited him. I liked challenging him.
Maybe it was because I knew even if he hated me, even if we were nothing but strangers to each other now, he still wouldn’t hurt me. Not the way Marcus wanted to.
Of course I cared that Roman knew, and I care about the video of me on his phone that he can so easily share with the world. But somewhere deep down, I hoped that my Roman was still in there. And today, with him towering over Marcus with fire in his eyes and a deadly threat lingering in the air, I know I was right.
My Roman isn’t totally lost. He can still find his way back.
He protected me today. He didn’t leave me like I thought he had. He was there, and he saved me.
He saved me.
Tears burn as they fill my eyes, blurring my vision of the world around me until it’s nothing but a smear of bright lights and soft colors. My feet shove off the ground again, sending me soaring higher than before. The wood of the old oak creaks as I’m propelled backward, the wind blowing through my hair, giving me a false sense of freedom.
I try to push the images of the past hour from my mind, but it’s impossible. My eyes squeeze shut, a single tear streaking down my cheek as the feeling of Marcus’ hands on me replays again and again, the words he’d said, the way his breath felt against my skin.
A thick lump forms in my throat, and it takes all I have to force the emotions I don’t want to feel down. It’s almost too much as the reality of my life settles around me in a thick smog.
I can’t believe I’m doing this. Camming for money. Sharing the most intimate parts of myself with strangers online. At first, it was all a game. It didn’t feel real. But now…
“Eve?”
My head snaps up at the sound of my name, and my heels dig into the hard dirt as I come to an abrupt stop on the swing. He takes a large inhale of his cigarette before flicking it to the ground, putting it out with the tip of his boot.
Roman storms toward me, his eyes dark and fiery. “What are you doing?” He scans me, just like he had in the church, and it makes my entire body heat. “I told you to ice your lip.”
“You should really quit smoking,” I say, deflecting. “It’s a disgusting habit.”
His brows furrow as his thumb hovers over my cheek, not making contact, before yanking his hand away. “You're hurt.”
“I’m fine,” I mutter, lowering my eyes. It’s not to dismiss him. I just don’t want him to see the truth there.
I’m not fine.
I might never be fine again, not with the stark reality that what Marcus did, what he said, the way he’d pursued me won’t be a one off. Men like him will find me. They’ll hunt me down and stake their claim, just like he tried to do.
The tears I’ve been trying to hold in finally begin spilling out. I take a shuddering breath, trying to calm myself before I can burst into a fit of hysterics in front of Roman. That’s all I need to happen on top of this already shitty day.
He rounds me, and wraps his hands around the harsh rope, right above mine, our skin barely touching. The slight warmth of him, the comfort of him being so close, yet still not fully touching me, has a sob pushing out my throat.
“Talk to me,” he rasps, gently pulling the swing backward, then walking it forward. “Tell me what happened.” I cover my face with my hands, letting myself sink into self pity for only a moment. “Goldie.”
The name wrenches fresh tears from my eyes. Goldie. It's a name that's been both haunting and a source of solace for so many years, and now, finally, he's uttering it like it means something again. My shoulders shake as I force myself to take another gasping breath.
