And Romeo had been with me for everything.
He’d sat silently listening to everything, offering an outsider’s perspective when asked, and had been my support system. When we’d leave Vito’s place, he’d follow me to mine where he’d lie on the other side of my mattress with me.
Each morning for the last four mornings I’d woken up wrapped around him, soaking in every single second before he’d inevitably wake up and remember that it was inappropriate to be practically wrapped around your friend.
And each time he’d pull away and head to the bathroom, a little piece of my heart would break off.
But he’d never go far. He’d stay and help me cook each morning, then return home to deal with the horses and change clothes before meeting me at work.
Then we’d do it all over again the next day.
Even though I hadn’t gotten exactly what I’d wanted out of Romeo, he was still an integral part of my life that’d become something I’d needed just like breathing.
“Shit,” I said as Big John forced my dad to stop.
I reluctantly got to a stopping point and got out of the cab, heading toward my dad with the wind assaulting my every nerve ending.
I hated the cold. But I hated the cold more paired with the wind.
Every year I begged Cody to move with me out of state. Or to become a Florida citizen during the ‘Ber months. Yet, every year, she told me no.
Cody loved the snow. She loved plowing. She loved skiing.
Me, on the other hand? I thrived in the sun.
I thrived even more when my father didn’t look at me like I was a disappointment.
I stopped in the middle of the yard and said, “What do you want? I’m at work.”
Obviously, that was the wrong thing to say because he stepped toward me threateningly, his finger out and pointed at my face.
My father’s angry eyes sliced to me. “You’re at work? Maybe if you’d answered any of my phone calls, I wouldn’t have to come to this particular hellhole.”
I crossed my arms over my chest in a protective manner. Mainly, I did this to hide the shaking that came with his quick run up on me. Paired with his closeness, I definitely felt intimidated.
Which was what he wanted.
“Get your finger out of my face. I’m not four. I’m a grown adult,” I ordered, hoping my voice sounded strong.
“You’re doing something that you can’t come back from, Mable Louise,” he growled, not removing his finger.
In fact, not only did he not remove his finger, but he crowded me even closer, forcing me to take a large step back to keep him from touching me with that finger.
He backed me up until I hit a wall.
A wall that wasn’t a wall at all.
“If you don’t take a step back, I’ll make you,” Romeo’s angry, chilling voice said from behind me.
I felt the rumble of those words through the three layers of jackets I was wearing, too.
“And just who are you to tell me what I can and can’t do with my daughter?” my dad sneered, spittle gathering at the corners of his mouth.
“I think she ceased being your daughter around the age of nine? Or was it ten, baby?” Romeo asked. “I can’t remember when your so-called ‘father’ married Whitney.”
“Eight.” I swallowed.
“Eight.” Romeo nodded, the friction of our jackets rubbing together was the only thing you could hear now. The entire crew had ceased what they were doing and started watching. “I think that’s about right. Tell me, why are you here today?”
