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I never got any texts from her. I wouldn’t have because—
“I think it was how I stayed close to you all those years,” she admits. “Then, somewhere along the way, they stopped being about reaching out, and more about catharsis. It became my diary. I had Oli to confide in if I needed a sounding board. I wasn’t totally alone, but I didn’t have you, so I might as well have been.”
I suck in a sharp breath, my fingers tightening on her knee. I know what she means. I feel the same fucking way. I had Chase, then eventually I had Kon, but I still didn’t have her.
On any random night, I was surrounded by people. The loft was always full of Chase’s friends. People came in and out of Deliverance at all hours. But I was still alone—I was still lonely.
Because she wasn’t by my side.
That’s how it is sometimes. You can be in a room full of people and still utterly alone if none of them see you, really see you.
Eve saw me. I needed her, just like she needed me.
I blink, realizing I’ve just been staring at her. “I missed you,” I croak, the words thick as they leave my mouth. She barely tips her lips up in a smile.
“I missed you, too, Ro.”
We stare at each other, the only light in the room from her phone and the faint moonlight seeping in from the window, but I see her clearly enough. Leaning in, her eyes flutter closed. I feel her breath ghost along my skin.
But I can’t.
Not after I kissed her yesterday. When I was so ready to rip her leggings off her and fuck her until she forgot her name.
I could’ve taken advantage of her. And if I did, I’d be no better than my father.
Leaning away, I shake my head. Her eyes snap open, and she jerks back like she’s been slapped. “What?”
“Nothing,” I breathe. “I just—I can’t.”
She glares at me and I feel her anger sear me to my core. Why is she mad? Doesn’t she see I’m doing this for her?
“Just kiss me,” she demands, but I shake my head again. Guilt whirls inside me. Is this what she really wants? Or is she doing it because she thinks it’s what I want?
She makes a frustrated sound and slides off the bed. Her hand moves to her mouth as she begins pacing, muttering things under her breath.
Hesitantly, I stand, slowly walking around the bed until I’m a few feet from her. “Eve?” I breathe, but she ignores me.
I take another step closer. My hands itch to reach out, to grab her and pull her into my arms. To settle her.
“Eve?” I say again, my voice louder and firmer. She whirls, and that’s when I finally see the angry tears in her shadowed eyes.
“Is it because of him? You think—you think there’s something wrong with me? That I’m dirty?” She chokes out the word, and it shatters me.
“God, no. Baby, no.” Shaking my head, I stumble forward another step, my heart lurching. “I’d never think that—”
“Then why won’t you touch me?” she cries. “Yesterday in the locker room was the closest to normal you’ve been since—since everything.”
“Because I wasn’t thinking,” I shoot back. “I shouldn’t have done that. You’re still healing—”
“That’s not for you to decide!”
I pause.
My lips part as I stare at her.
“You don’t get to tell me that I’m healing. You don’t get to decide that I’m too fragile to be kissed, or fucked, or loved. You don’t get to decide any of that, Roman. I do. It’s my body. I get to decide who I want inside it, when, and how.” She rests her hand on her chest, tears streaming freely down her cheeks. “It’s my body, Roman.”
“I know, Goldie.” My hands reach for her, but she bats them away.
