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“Fuck, that thing’s creepy,” Roman mutters under his breath. Whirling, I glare at him.
“No, she’s not.”
“Pretty sure they have a horror movie based on it.” He points at the doll, shuddering exaggeratedly. Rolling my eyes, I gently set her on the stack of boxes beside the one I’d found her on.
“Oh, look!” I open the box with Grant scrawled across the top in Mama’s familiar handwriting. “It’s Daddy’s stuff.” Roman steps beside me, his arm wrapping tightly around my waist.
The overhead light is dim, but I can see everything inside clearly enough. It’s dingy from years of sitting here, fading away. His Haven Baptist softball team t-shirt sits neatly folded on top, and a smile teases my lips.
“He was so bad,” I choke out. “He never hit the ball, and Mama always told him he ran too slow.” I wipe at my damp eyes as Roman’s arm tightens. “He loved it, though. Loved all the people that came together and even if he was the butt of the joke, he loved that everyone was laughing. That they were happy.” My voice breaks on the last word.
“You were too young to remember this,” Roman mutters, his voice barely above a whisper. “But after my mom died and we came to stay with you for that year, your dad was—” He roughly clears his throat, his fingers gripping me tighter. “He was incredible to me. I’d never had anyone like him in my life before. And one day, he took me fishing.”
I blink up at him, dropping the moth-eaten shirt back in the box. He continues to stare down at it as if he’s staring directly at my father. A small smile curls his lips.
“Fishing?” I rasp, and he nods.
“I hated it,” he laughs. “We got up early—”
“To get there before the fishes,” I say, nodding, and his eyes slide to me.
“That’s what he said.” I grin, knowing Daddy’s jokes like the back of my hand. “Anyway, so we were out there before the asscrack of dawn, and I was so tired. So grumpy. I just wanted to go home and go back to bed, but he wouldn’t let me.”
“He took his fishing very seriously,” I laugh, and Ro bobs his head in agreement.
“I caught a fish—it was fucking huge.” He turns toward me, both arms wrapping around my waist. “Even your dad was impressed.” Resting my hands on his chest, I smile wider. It didn’t take much to impress Daddy, but I won’t tell Ro that. “After we caught it, I asked what to do, and he gave me a choice. Skin, gut, and clean it. Or let it go.”
“What’d you choose?”
His hand lifts, and he gently tucks the wayward curls behind my ear. “I let it go,” he whispers. “It wasn’t its fault it’d been caught, and it wasn’t my place to keep it.” My throat tightens, and I slide my hands up, locking my fingers behind his neck.
“You’re a good person, Roman Payne.”
He presses a light kiss to my forehead, letting his lips linger. “I didn’t want to disappoint your dad,” he mutters. “I tried to do the right thing for him.” Tipping my head back, he brushes a fallen tear from my cheek before gently kissing me. “I made him a promise when he was sick.”
My head rears back, my brows crashing together. “What? When?”
“When he was in the hospital for the last time,” he breathes, running his hand through his hair. “Isaac and I—”
“You were there every day,” I finish, nodding. “I remember.”
Roman barely spoke the entire time. He got Mama and me drinks and snacks, ran to get the newspaper for her and coloring books for me. He did so much, but I hadn’t appreciated him at the time. I was just sad my dad was dying. I didn’t think about the sweet boy trying to make some of the pain go away.
“But you never went into his room,” I breathe.
“I did. Toward the end, I went in once.”
I stare at him. This is all news to me. I had no idea he’d ever…
“He looked so different,” he rasps. “So unlike the man who had taken me fishing.”
“I know,” I croak. “He was so small. So fragile. Daddy was such a big man. I remember looking down at him in that bed and wondering how he shrunk. How I was bigger than he was.”
“I know, baby,” he rasps, palming my cheek. “I sat with him for a bit. He was sleeping, so I just stared out the window. But then he talked to me.”
“What’d he say?” I ask, needing to know everything about my dad’s final days. How had I never known this?
“He told me he liked who I was becoming,” he chokes out and I can’t help but picture a small, sweet eleven year old version of the man before me. “Liked that I was looking after you. Told me that’s what a man does. That he takes care of the people he loves.” My chin wobbles as a fresh set of tears flow from my eyes. That sounds exactly like something Daddy would say. “He asked me to always take care of you. To always keep an eye out, make sure you were happy.”
