The more I talked, the more the agony built back up.
“How dare I? How dare I want something for myself after they’d so selflessly taken me in? Taken me in and reminded me every minute of every fuckin’ day that I was the product of a paid fuck. Beat me until I couldn’t even hold a football, let alone throw one—if you’re injured, you can’t play, right? So my daddy made it a frequent thing, a father-son weekly tradition.”
“N-no one helped you? Figured it out?” Molly stuttered out.
The thought made me laugh. “Who’s going to take on a powerful billionaire and question why his kid flinches whenever someone touches him?
“Then to make it worse, their failure of a child is expected to enter the draft for NFL, twice, and was forced to say no, to sacrifice his dreams just in case people found out he’s not really Kathryn Prince’s biological pride and joy. The mass of skeletons must be locked up real tight!”
My voice sounded raw, all of the screaming and the emotion tearing me in two. Finally lifting my head, I stared at Molly, still rooted to the same damn spot, and walking to her, spread my arms wide—I had nothing left to give.
“So there you go, Mol. That’s why my parents hate me and why my being with you has just added to their already mountain-high disappointment of their beloved fuckin’ son.” I worked hard to keep in the tears, didn’t want to expose myself so open, but when my girl edged forward, straightening my clothes with unashamed affection, and pressed closer into my chest, I almost broke. She just made everything better.
“That’s why everyone calls you Rome, not Romeo… why you hate it so much. It reminds you of your past,” she stated, smoothing back my messy hair.
“Yeah,” I rasped out. “My birth momma said if they didn’t keep Romeo, she’d go to the media, expose the story, and they couldn’t have that, so they agreed… reluctantly. Had her sign some contract to keep quiet.”
Loving the feeling of her warm breath against my skin, I huffed. “What the hell kind of name is Romeo for the prized son of the wealthiest family in Alabama? My folks always called me Rome in public, but in private, I was Romeo. They used it as a taunt and curse. Romeo the whore’s son, Romeo the non-returnable bad gift—and they never, ever let me forget it.”
“Where did she go, your birth mother?”
My stomach churned as I thought of the woman who practically sold me off like some damn piece of meat. I used to wonder if my life would’ve been better if she’d kept me, but hell, she was just some whore, some bitter slut. Ironic really considering that’s what I’d turned into too, a whore who treats girls like crap.
I caught Mol’s expectant gaze, awaiting my response, so I shook my head and said, “Probably back to whatever hole she crawled out of.”
Sighing deep, she dropped her gaze and said quietly, “Romeo, I—”
I knew this was it, the part when she let me down gently. I wouldn’t recover from the loss.
I couldn’t deal, so thrust her out of my arms and said bitterly, “You’re going to leave me, aren’t you? I knew I’d lose you. I just knew it. Who’s going to put up with my parents’ shit? I’m not worth everything they’ll put you through if we stay together, am I?”
Flashback after flashback of my life over recent months slammed into my mind. I’d never known such happiness, and although I’d coped with a lot during my life, I knew I wouldn’t be able to do it without her by my side anymore. Sometimes you just know when a person is meant for you, and I always had with her. She got me… She fucking saved me.
I could no longer control my breathing and a hollow pain burst in my stomach, causing me to slump on the sofa and, fuck, but I couldn’t stop the tears this time. The thought of her leaving reduced me to a crying friggin’ mess.
Gentle arms folded tightly around my back and chest and I flinched and tried to get away. Molly shushed me soothingly and pulled me down until my head was lying on her lap, her fingers moving to comb through my hair.
I didn’t know if it was the comfort of her touch or the enormity of all that happened tonight, but a flood of memories raced to the front of my mind: punches, hits, harsh insults, punishments… everything.
Molly was sniffing and shaking above me, and I knew she was crying too. I’d never loved her more than I did in that moment, sharing my grief, and when she lifted my face with her hands, whispering, “Romeo—” I sucked up a breath, and for the first time in my life uttered the words, “I love you… I love you,” as I stared into her golden eyes, praying she would just give me one more chance to make her happy.
“W-what?”
I lay back on the couch, suddenly exhausted, and brought my girl to lie above me, confessing, “I love you. I love you beyond anything I could’ve ever imagine was possible.”