Afterwards, tears still in her eyes, my mom helps Mase into bed in his old room. There are cracks in my heart fromhearing what Mase went through. I hate that he’s been blaming himself all this time, for what happened to that solider, for what happened to me.
I stay in the hall after they’ve gone upstairs, staring at the photo of the whole family, including Roman, sitting on a surfboard on the beach. I’m only eleven in it, and Mase and Roman both have the same shaggy hair cut they sported for most of their teens. I used to daydream about running my fingers through Roman’s hair.
Unease cracks like ice around my heart. Roman and Pine Rock will forever be entwined in my mind. One simply doesn’t exist without the other, which is a large part of why I stayed away for so long. I can admit that the other reason is because I was running. From the girl I used to be. From the mistakes I made. From that night and everything that happened after it.
I could go to prison for what I did. The hall sways a little and I lean back against the wall. My stomach is stone hard, like I’m slowly calcifying from the inside out. I don’t know how Richard’s PI discovered what I did six fucking years ago, but it doesn’t really matter. Whether he follows through on his threat or not, I need to come clean.
My dad finds me in the hall and wraps an arm around my shoulders. I let my head drop, resting it against his chest.
“That’s my favorite photo of you kids. Sand in your toes, smiles on your faces.”
I shift my head so I can look at teenage Roman’s face. He’s so happy and free in that photo, windswept hair and a borrowed rash vest. He may look like his father, but the man I met tonight is nothing like Roman.
“Why did you and Mom decide to be a host family?” It’s not something I’ve ever asked before. As far as I was concerned Roman just turned up at the start of fall break and that was it. He was one of us.
Words hum in my dad’s chest as he speaks. “We always wanted a big family, but after your difficult birth we didn’t want to risk trying again. One of the other teachers at school mentioned hosting a boarder for the vacation and I knew your mother would love it.” My dad chuckles. “I was a bit apprehensive at first, some of the kids from that school…” he trails off. “But we struck gold with Roman. Or at least we did until he started dating my baby girl.”
“Dad.” I roll my eyes and dig my elbow into his stomach.
“Think he’ll go for the whole gun-toting scary father routine?”
I smirk. “I’m not sure much scares Roman.”
A soft kiss to the top of my head. I slide my arms around his waist and hold on like I’m a little kid. “I met his dad tonight.”
“Ahh. Bit of a dick, isn’t he?”
I peer up at him, my eyes bugged as his mustache twitches.
“Twat? Knobhead? Posh fucker? Egotistical bastard?”
“Dad!” I laugh and he grins down at me before turning serious.
“I spoke to that man once a year at the end of a phone. You ask me, Roman was better off here.”
I want to believe he’s right, for my own sake if nothing else, but I’m not just worried about the blackmail. Richard took a match to all my insecurities and the flames are roaring.
I’d hate for my son to be dragged down with you.
Until a week ago even my own parents didn’t think I could make the coffee shop work. They may be on board now but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to crash and burn. I have a history after all.
“Hey Dad, you know that rule we had when I was a kid?”
My dad peers down at me. “That no matter how bad a situation you were in we’d always bail you out?”
Love for my parents aches inside of me. “Yeah. Does that still apply?”
His eyes crease with worry but he squeezes my hand. “That’s a lifetime rule, kiddo. I can’t make the consequences go away, but I can damn well make sure we’re here to help you through them.”
Outside, the headlights from Roman’s pickup flick on, the white light shining through the frosted glass of the front door. I go up on tiptoes and give my dad a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, Dad.”
The worry lines on his forehead, the ones that first appeared when I was thirteen, deepen but he doesn’t say anything as I extract myself from his arms and step out onto the porch.
Time to face the music.
Roman leans against the front of his truck, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows. His strong, muscular arms are crossed over his chest and one ankle rests nonchalantly over the other.
He looks like a billionaire in his black suit pants and shining dress shoes and he’s so beautiful it hurts. Or maybe the pain comes from the fact he couldn’t look more out of place right now.
