I match his steps. He moves forward, and I move back until there’s nowhere left to go with the house pressed against my back. I’m prey, falling perfectly into the predator’s trap.
“Run, Princess.” His breath fans my face. “Don’t let me catch you.”
Falling victim to his snare, I’m unable to do anything but stare into crystal eyes. Ones that have gotten me through countless meltdowns and filled the space my parents left behind. I’m enraptured by the shape of the same lips that have told me how beautiful he thinks I am and filled the silence so I don’t need to listen to my own screaming thoughts.
Tender hands wrap around the back of my neck. Not to hold me in place, but to remind me just how helpless I am to him.
The warmth emanating from Roman is better than any fire, and he could make me burn hot with a single word. Just like he has with the reminder of the last time I tried running from him.
Frigid air kisses my skin, and a shiver travels down my spine. “Honestly…” I say breathily. He leans forward, lips tipped upward in excitement and satisfaction. “I’ve run more in the past forty-eight hours than I have since high school P.E. Please, not right now.”
I expect him to manipulate me into a cat-and-mouse game or make my insides swirl as they did when his fingers were inside me. Instead, a different type of heat unfurls in my belly as he throws his head back and laughs.
It’s a stunning sound that ripples through me like a poison, one that hurts every level of my being. I never thought I’d hear that sound again.
Ruining the moment, my body spasms from the onslaught of cold, and I duck out from under him before he gets the chance to fawn over me.
I’m a grown woman. I can deal with a little cold.
Or a lot.
Whatever. My point still stands.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
I roll my shoulders back and bend my knees, piling as many pieces of wood as possible. “Whatever I want.”
The heat of his stare burns into my back. “Okay, Miss Independent, pile half of it over there, then get your ass inside and out of the cold.”
As much as I want to prove myself to him and keep piling up, my ass very much wants to get inside. Scrambling to stack the wood, I all but run inside and start another pile next to the fireplace. I hiss as the last one falls to the very top. This is why I can’t live off the land. Stupid things happen, like getting a splinter while cleaning up.
I’m pulled onto my feet before I can inspect the damage.
“Let me see,” he says as he grabs my hand.
Miss Independent in me curses as I surrender control to him. Having someone else look after me feels so foreign, yet familiar. I shouldn’t like it, but I do.
By what has to be magic, he gets the splinter out on the first go, and then looks up at me with so much concern—as if I was the one who got shot.
“Thanks,” I mutter and pull away from his orbit. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I stare at the pillows stacked on a fluffy rug. Where do we go from here? I can’t live this type of life when there’s so much I haven’t seen. I refuse to exchange one prison for another.
“Are you okay?”
The look on his face says that he’s asking about more than just my finger or if I’ve defrosted from my short rendezvous outside.
Sighing, I sink down onto a pillow, and he follows suit, stationing himself directly across from me at an arm’s reach.
“No, Roman, I’m not.” He cringes at the name. “You can’t expect me to forget the last three years.”
The vermillion light from the fire colors the sides of our faces, heating our skin. I shed my jacket and fold it to the side.
“Let it out.”
I suck in a breath. “I was hurt, and I felt betrayed. But most of all, I was so angry at you. Furious. I knew you would leave me eventually, but I didn’t expect you to do it when you did.” I stare at my empty hands. “I spent so long being angry that I realized I was actually feeling grief. In my eyes, you died, Roman. But in my heart, you were living a life without me.” My vision blurs as I look up at him. “I thought the sadness would last a lifetime.”
We all have demons. He happens to be mine.
“Why would you think I’d leave you, Minnie?” His voice wraps around me in a tight embrace, and the nickname wedges itself inside my heart. I’m sure I would tell him anything that he asks at this moment.
“Isn’t it obvious?” I laugh dryly to myself. “Everyone leaves me.”
“Not me,” he says. I fix my attention to our intertwined hands. “Never me.”
I don’t want to tell him all the other reasons I thought he’d leave. If he’s the type of person to discard me for another woman or something as trivial as age, then I should be glad he left. No one deserves that sort of treatment.
Do I tell him that, deep down, I know he’d never leave me—now, at least? Part of the reason he was in prison was because of me. Then every second since he’s gotten out has been dedicated to me. From my favorite snacks in the cupboards, to the soaps, and my Mickey Mouse doll that appeared on the bed after my shower. Hell, even doing up a whole house just for us.
“I should be grateful for becoming stronger since you left,” I start, because he needs to hear it too. “But am I supposed to be happy that I lost a part of myself to become that way?”
He squeezes my hand. “I disagree.” Frowning, I look up at him. “You didn’t lose yourself. You found the part of you that was built to survive. The part you thought you lost is still there; it’s learning and waiting for you to let her out again.”
The voice that usually screams at me to fight is silent when he pulls me onto his lap and wipes away a fallen tear. When did he become such a therapist, anyway?
“I’ve grieved so much; for my mother, the father I never had. I kept thinking it wasn’t right, that they should be here by my side, keeping my heart full. But life gives, and it takes.” My bleeding heart hates the truth, and it aches every day. But maybe saying it out loud will make my heart understand the real world. “It wasn’t right, but it’s what it’s meant to be.”
Slowly, he rocks us with his arms wrapped around my waist. He’s heard me talk about my missing parts before, but he’s never been one for words. Not really, at least.
His soft breaths ruffle my hair as he says, “There’s no point living if you don’t feel alive. I’m going to make you a promise; you’re going to wake up every day knowing that your heart is full and you have someone who will never leave your side. It’ll be my life’s goal to make you so happy that you shit rainbows and eat butterflies. You’ll never live feeling like you need more.”
“Please, don’t hurt the butterflies.” We both chuckle half-heartedly, and a sad smile curls across my face. “I always knew you would carry a part of me with you wherever you go.” I bite the inside of my lip and continue, “Because you took it from me. I knew you cared about me and lent me every piece of your heart that you had. But there’s a quote I once read: Even if it is full of love, all a ghost can do is haunt.”
He rearranges us so that his eyes bore into mine. Calloused fingers wrap around my wrist to bring my hands to his face.
“Do you feel me, Isabella?”