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My throat bobs at his admission, but I’m already shaking my head. “Ro…” I start. That isn’t what I meant. Not at all.
“No,” he cuts in again. “You have to know. As soon as I found out about the camming, I wanted to come home. I knew there had to be a reason you were doing it, but I just kept telling myself that you were an adult, that you were free to make your own choices. But that day I saw you in Savannah, I decided I didn’t care anymore. You could keep making your own choices, but I was coming back to keep you safe. To make sure you were the one who wanted it. To make sure—” He grits his teeth, his jaw ticking as he swallows down his tears. “To make sure you weren’t being forced.”
“You came back to keep me safe,” I whimper, the inside of the truck spinning. “And you had to listen as he and I did what we did. God, Roman, you had to see it. He hurt you, abused you, and you had to bear witness to it all. You stayed even though it had to have been killing you. I’m so fucking sorry.”
He stares at me for a long moment before finally, finally, his body deflates, and he lets himself break. Heaving sobs wrack his body and he folds in on himself, somehow looking just like the little boy who never even stood a chance.
Today, I heard my mom’s last words. I heard her plans for freedom, her excitement, and then, I heard as she begged Isaac to save her before watching her bleed out…watching her be murdered.
Seeing those things, hearing them, will always be one of the most painful things I’ll ever experience.
But this? It’s too much.
Hearing about the man that I am irrevocably in love with breaking this way, has something inside me splintering and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to fix it.
My hand slowly moves toward him, but I freeze, my fingers hovering in the space between us. “Can I touch you, baby?”
He blinks at me, his face still a mask of pure devastation, and chokes out, “Goldie.”
I swallow a sob and crawl into his lap, straddling him. Without pause, I pull his face into my chest, and there, in the middle of a town I don’t know, while strangers pass us on the sidewalk outside of an internet cafe, the love of my life and I shatter.
I don’t know how much time passes, but when we finally collect ourselves, I cover his sweet face in kisses, loving away his sadness the same way he did for me.
Roman turns his head, his lips finding mine in a slow, languid kiss meant to reassure, to remind us we’re both alive, we’re both still here.
“What do we do now?” I whisper, leaning my forehead against his.
His hands flex against my hips. “It’s getting late.We go back to the hotel, you let me hold you and in the morning, we’ll go to the police and show them everything we have.”
I pull away, looking at him while my heart thunders in my chest. “Roman,” I breathe. “If we do that, then he gets off easy. If we do that—”
“I said no, Goldie,” he interrupts, shaking his head. “You’re not going anywhere near him. I don’t trust him, never have and now, more than ever.” He bites his lip, breathing slowly. “It’s not safe. We need to let the cops handle him. He’s…” He swallows. “He’s a killer.”
I want to argue, but I see what he’s hiding behind the protests, the reasons—true, unshakable fear. He’s terrified to confront Isaac, to see him, to stand up to him.
With a deep breath, I nod my head and kiss his lips once more. Roman has always been my strength. He’s always led me, carried me, held me.
This time…
This time I’ll carry us both.
“Okay, baby,” I agree. “Okay.”
* * *
Hours later, I unwrap myself from his naked body and quietly climb from the bed in our small hotel room. I dress without a sound and leave him a note I know he’ll hate me for. I kiss his forehead and silently promise to fix this. To fix it all.
For him.
For Roman.
The man who never got a chance to be a boy.
The child who never had a chance to know his mother—to know the love of a parent.
I’ll fix it, then I’ll make the sick fuck who broke us pay.
Persecution
