“He won’t win.” I declare.
His eyes shutter. “Niamh.”
“Kiss me again.” I order. “Kiss me again, and if you still want to do whatever it is you’re going to do, then fine, I won’t fight you.”
“I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“And that’s why I won’t,” I whisper. “I need you, Roman.”
Amber eyes bounce between mine before he leans down and kisses me again, his tongue stroking gently against my lips until I open and let him in.
“When do we stop fighting?” I ask when he finally breaks away.
“Fighting what?”
“Ourselves.” I sigh.
He softens. “I’m not sure we ever do.”
“I don’t blame you, Roman. Am I scared? Yes. Any sane person would be, but we take things as we get them and try to figure out a way to stop him.”
“If it were that easy —”
“I never said it was easy,” I interrupt him.
He sighs heavily. “If he hurts you,Niamh…”
“He won’t.”
“He already has.”
“He won’t.”
Pumpkin purrs like a mini engine on my lap as I stroke her fur, her paws making biscuits on the blanket Roman insists I keep on my legs, just in case I get a chill. What I haven’t told him is that I am a hundred fucking degrees and sweating my tits off. I’m about to risk a scolding for moving just to crack a window and get some air in here.
The doctors released me after twenty-four hours with instructions to rest and pills for any pain I may have, and I am now the proud owner of eight stitches for a gash in my hairline from the crash. The truck is a write off but Roman has it being inspected and hasn’t stopped trying to pin down his father for this. I believe him, but the way the officers are treating this has my skin crawling. With anger. With frustration.
They don’t seem to be taking it seriously.
Maybe I can speak with Oscar; he’s part of the department. Maybe he can help from the inside, put a little pressure on to take this seriously.
As far as I can tell, Jenson Knight is an upstanding citizen in this town, helpful, charming but from all the stories Roman has told me since we left the hospital, it’s a carefully constructed mask he wears to hide who he truly is. That makes me sad for Roman and his brothers, to not know what a true father should be, but I suppose their grandfather filled in that gap for them.
Pumpkin startles on my lap as Remy comes bursting into the room, four large pizza boxes balancing on one hand while he stuffs a pizza slice into his mouth with the other.
“Hungry?” He grins.
I chuckle. “Starved.”
“I’m going to make a guess. Chicken supreme?”
“Pepperoni.” I correct.
“What?” He stares at me. “I never guess a pizza favorite wrong.”
I shrug, “Guess you’re losing your touch.” I take the box from him when he hands it over and open it to find an untouched pepperoni inside, still steaming as I pull a slice away, the cheese pulling with it.
Roman and Silas come through with Rosie and Caleb, who immediately go for the pizza on the table while Roman settles next to me and hands me the bottle of pain pills.
