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“Let’s just say Miles’s biggest champion will be back in Twilight Falls in two days,” Tristan muttered.
CHAPTER27
Miles saton the swing on the rear veranda of Roman and Drake’s home. He tugged the blanket around his shoulders and clutched the hot drink in his hands as he gazed blindly at the covered swimming pool, and the garden and guest house beyond.
The Strickland Estate had a peculiar reputation in Twilight Falls. Once the property of an eccentric millionaire, it had laid empty for decades before Roman had finally bought it at the end of summer. Despite being told the place was haunted, the rockstar had signed on the dotted line two months after he’d first seen the place.
From what Miles had learned, Drake had had his eye on the Strickland Estate for even longer and had been annoyed as hell when Roman had snatched it from under his nose weeks before he’d been considering putting an offer on the property himself. It had led to a brief war of attrition between the pair before they had given in to the attraction burning between them.
Miles looked over his shoulder at the lovingly restored colonial mansion.
I can see why both Drake and Roman fell in love with this place.
Roman came out the back door. “Hey.” He joined Miles on the swing.
“How’s the song coming along?” Miles said lightly.
Roman smiled faintly. “It’s finished.”
A comfortable silence fell between them.
“Trauma is a funny thing.” Roman stared out over the snowy garden. “Some days, it leaves you alone. Other days, it eats you alive until you have nowhere to run and you want to curl in on yourself and die.”
Miles’s stomach lurched. He stared dazedly at Roman.
The rockstar met his shocked gaze. “I take it my bad boy reputation never made it to your ears?”
Miles shook his head, his pulse racing. He recognized the darkness in the depths of Roman’s gaze. He could see the same darkness in his own eyes every single day since Logan’s accident.
The memory of the moment he’d seen Logan’s smashed up pickup and the hours Logan had laid unconscious in the hospital had dragged him in a pit of despair from which he feared he would never emerge.
It was worse than what he’d felt when he’d woken up from his coma.
Much, much worse.
“I spent my late teens and a significant part of my twenties high on drugs and alcohol.” Roman folded his legs up on the swing and hugged his knees. “I was in a dark place for a long, long time. I probably would have died from an overdose if it hadn’t been for James and Crazyknot looking out for me.” His expression grew haunted.
Miles swallowed, almost afraid to ask the question. “What—what happened to you?”
“My mom left me and my twin sister when we were little.” Roman’s voice was dead. “Our father was a drunk and a gambler. He also loved taking out his anger on us. He used to beat us, lock us in a closet, and starve us. One day, after we turned fifteen, my sister went home early from school and slit her wrist with a kitchen knife.”
Miles gasped. His vision blurred.
Roman rested his chin on his knees and reached over to wipe the tear coursing down Miles’s cheek, his mouth tilted in a soft smile. “Why are you crying, silly?”
“Because—because that’s just horrible!” Miles’s breath hitched.
Roman inched closer and wrapped an arm around Miles. “Traumaishorrible, Miles. But it doesn’t mean you have to let it crush you.” He hesitated. “I still have bad days. But they are months apart now, instead of weeks. And I’m pretty sure they will disappear, one day.” His tone lightened. “I have Drake to thank for that. And James and my friends.” He chuckled. “But Drake definitely does more to make me forget.”
Miles gave him a quizzical look.
“The best pick me up when you’re down is sex,” Roman said bluntly. “I usually ask Drake to fuck me senseless until I can’t spare a single thought for my worries.”
Miles choked on air. Roman laughed.
The back door opened.
Drake came out on the veranda, a strange expression on his face.
