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“I never realized that Favorite Fans would be so…” I trail off, shaking my head. “I’ve always loved it, you know? But now—now I think it might be time—”
“To quit,” he says. The words force my body to tense.
Quit.
It’s what I was going to say, but the word feels so final coming from him, almost like a demand.
“Maybe take a break.” I scoff. The swing stops moving, his hands still gripping it tightly.
“A break?” he slowly repeats.
My hands drop to my lap and I twist them together. My toes tangle in the soft blades of grass, trying to ground myself again, but it doesn’t work. Not with him looming over me, his eyes searing the back of my head like I’d personally offended him.
“Was what happened not enough to scare you?” he says, his voice low. Wiping my tears from my eyes, my spine straightens as I lift my chin. His feet thud on the hard Earth as he rounds me again, crouching and gripping my cheeks in his rough palms.
I’m so taken aback by his sudden movement, by the way his hands feel against me, that my mouth opens, then closes, nothing coming out, not even a breath. Reaching up, I grip his wrists.
His eyes search mine, the look in them so frantic it makes my heart skip a beat. “Look what he did to you,” he murmurs, his thumb gently trailing along the already-swollen print on my cheek. It lowers, gliding along my skin until he reaches the corner of my lip. “He hurt you, Goldie.” His jaw tenses, his eyes darkening in a way that promises death. Not to me, but Marcus.
I can feel it, the way his body’s trembling with his restraint. Like it’s taking all he has not to turn around and hunt Marcus down, to finish whatever he started in the church. I don’t want to know what Roman did to him after I left. Whatever it was, I know it wasn’t good.
“You don’t understand,” I whisper. His brows crash together.
“What?”
“You—you don’t get it, Ro,” I say, tugging his hands away from my face. I don't know how to explain to him that I have to do this.
It’s the only freedom I have, it’s the only freedom I’ll ever have. I can’t let Marcus take it from me. I can’t let Roman or Isaac take it from me. The only way I’ll ever give it up is if it’s my choice.
Roman stumbles back a step, looking like I wounded him.
“Help me understand, then,” he says tightly. He stands too far away from me, his body coiled, like he’s ready to flee. Or fight. Maybe both. “Is this about money?” The question startles me enough that all I can do is blink. “I can get you money, Eve. I can get you all the fucking money you need. How much? Just tell me, and—”
“It’s not about money,” I interrupt, shaking the words from my head.
It’s true. Even if this started because of money, and I love the money I make, it’s become about a lot more than that. It’s become a silent beacon of defiance, a way to pretend that I have freedom and choices. That I’m in control of my own life.
“I just want you to be safe,” he pleads, and my heart warms at the words. I smile softly, kicking my foot over the grass.
“I know,” I say quietly. “And I am safe—”
“You weren’t fucking safe today,” he spits, his voice tight. Too tight to be anything other than furious.
“I’m fine,” I say, trying to shake off his concerns. He runs a frustrated hand through his hair, his boots digging into the dirt as he turns, looking out at the lake. I slide off the tire swing, needing him to understand, silently pleading with him to just listen. “This is the only part of my life I have any control over, Roman.”
“What are you talking about?” he scoffs. “You have control. You can leave anytime you want. You can travel. There’s a whole world waiting for you.” I shake my head as he speaks, the words ringing so untrue it makes my throat tighten.
He doesn’t understand.
“I can’t just leave,” I say. “I’m needed here. I have responsibilities, and I can’t leave Isa—everything. Oli. And the church. And—”
“Isaac doesn’t need you,” he snarls. “You’re not his fucking wife. You’re just a warm place for him to stick his cock.” I stumble back a step, my hand going to my stomach as the words hit their intended mark.
The truth I’ve been terrified to admit feels like a lead brick in my chest. I’ve fought myself, told myself I mean more to Isaac than just a hookup. He means more to me than that.
It was just us for so long, broken and grieving together, us against the world. And when I’m in his arms, it feels so good. It feels comfortable. Familiar and safe, like afternoons at the lake and nights spent by the fire.
I look away, not wanting to fight with Roman anymore. His words hit too deep, and after today, I can’t take anymore pain. I just want to crawl into bed and forget this day ever happened.
