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“Ro,” I breathe, searching his eyes.
“I failed him for a while,” he admits, sounding ashamed as he drops his eyes from mine. “I was so angry at the world. And I was such an asshole to you, Goldie. I’m sorry. I should’ve been kinder—”
“It’s okay,” I whisper, smoothing the line between his brows. “You were just a kid, and I was invading your space.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he grunts. “A man takes care of the people he loves, and I promised him I’d always take care of you.”
“And you have,” I reassure him, but he just shakes his head again.
“I left you alone with—with him. That’s not taking care of you.”
“Oh, Roman.” I tug him closer, pressing my lips against his. “It was too much to ask of you. You were just a boy—”
“Doesn’t matter,” he says roughly. “Should’ve done better. Should’ve been better for you.”
“You were perfect.” He looks like he doesn’t believe me, so I grip his face between my hands and force him to look at me. “You are perfect. You were then, and you are now.”
“I won’t let you down again,” he whispers, and I press a kiss to his mouth.
“You’ve never let me down a day in your life.”
With a deep breath, he gives my hips a final squeeze before letting go. “Come on.” He roughly clears his throat as he jerks his chin at the boxes. “Let's pack this stuff and go.”
For the next hour, we go back and forth from the storage unit to Kon’s truck. I don’t know what the hell we’re going to do with this stuff. Most of it’s junk, but I still can’t make myself get rid of it. Not yet. Not when there’s so much of Mama and Daddy in it.
Finally, only a few boxes in the back remain, and I dab the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. “Almost done,” Ro says, pressing a kiss to my head as he passes.
His muscles flex when he lifts a box effortlessly. He winks as he passes me, and I feel my entire body flush. How can he still have this effect on me? Shouldn’t it have worn off by now? He’s all consuming. Perfect.
But I can’t fuck him here, so I shake myself and move across the room to the last of the boxes. Crouching, I grip the edge, but pause.
Jane is written across the top. I really should just take it out to the truck and open it later, when we have time to fuck around. Now’s not the time to go down memory lane, but I can’t seem to help myself as I gently pull open the box.
My throat immediately clogs at the sight of her old leather-bound journal. What’s it doing here?
“You ready—Eve?” Roman drops to a knee beside me, his hand landing on the small of my back. “What is it?”
But I don’t say anything.
For years, I looked for it. For years, I begged God to let me find it. I needed to read it. I needed to feel close to her. Even if I knew it would hurt to know her innermost thoughts, I needed them. I needed her.
And all this time, it’s been here.
Why?
His eyes follow my line of sight, and he sucks in a sharp breath. “Is that—”
“Her journal,” I rasp.
With shaky hands, Roman reaches for it. “What do you want to do?” he whispers, and I swallow thickly. Lifting my teary eyes to his, I nod.
“Read it.”
Jane's Cloud
My shaky hands grip Eve’s shoulders, probably too tight. I loosen my hold, not wanting to hurt her, but I can’t let go. Can’t stop touching her. Ever since we saw the login for Jane’s cloud, I’ve been reeling.
Everything she wrote.
