I glance down at Roman’s tattoo. The one I’m sure has everything to do with my brother. And the one we’ve never talked about. I nod at the ink on his arm. “That’s Brice’s handwriting.”
Roman’s Adam’s apple bobs in a swallow. “It is. He wrote me only a couple handwritten notes in his life, but he always signed them “brother.” I needed a piece of him with me. You know?”
I sniff. “I do. He was your brother too.”
Roman’s fingers entwine, and he lays them across the table, next to his breakfast plate. “Yes. He was.”
“So, this marriage helped you get your cabin.”
“I never meant to be so selfish with you, Stella. Brice would kill me.” He drags a hand down his face, his dejected expression killing me.
I pull his hand away so I can see him better. “Brice would appreciate you trying to help me.”
“Would he?” His jaw clenches. “The Brice I remember left a bruise the size of a baseball on my shoulder whenever he caught me taking a second glance at his sister.”
My insides whirl. “Excuse me? I’m—” I shake my head. Words won’t form. “You did—What does that mean?”
“You were a freshman. And man, you were suddenly not a little girl anymore. And—” Roman shakes his head. “I’m not a creep. But I am a man. And you, you suddenly became this beautiful?—”
A high “eep” escapes my lips and Roman silences. Didhe just call me beautiful? Did he call teenage, dateless Stella beautiful?
“Whatever. I wasn’t trying to be inappropriate, but Brice took one look at my face, punched, then threatened. I tried—and failed—never to look at you again.”
I breathe out a disbelieving laugh.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him that, like every other girl at Jackson High, I noticed him too. That he wasn’t the only one Brice threatened. But I can’t bring myself to say the words. I lick maple syrup from my bottom lip and glance up to Roman’s baby blue eyes. “You need your teammates, Roman. You’ve always needed your friends.”
“I’m not saying you’re wrong, because there’s a very good chance you aren’t. But some of my non-friendly habits might be hard to break.”
“Well, break them anyway.”
“What about you, Stell? How is this marriage going to help you at all? Explain that to me. Because I’ve been trying to figure out why you lied to me. I have no idea why you agreed to this.”
My pulse thrums in my neck and wrists. “I’m complicated.”
“Give me a shot,” he says.
The nerves in my gut tell me to be quiet, but my heart tells me I need to say this out loud. I need to trust. And I want to trust Roman. “I watched my parents suffer after Brice—like I’ve never seen anyone suffer before.” My voice is small, but I get the words out.
He reaches for my hand, and I let him take it. I need the support. These are words I never even spoke to Willow.
“They just have me.” I swallow. “And I am a failure, Roman.” I shake my head, trying to jostle away the sting ofunshed tears. “You always thought I’d be successful, but you were wrong. Every time I fail, I cause them fret and worry and pain. They knew I couldn’t survive on ceramics. So finally, I got my steady job at Clay & Crescent. But it didn’t last. I’m so tired of worrying them. Of disappointing them. Of being the cause of more pain.”
“You couldn’t be a disappointment,” he says.
“I am,” I scoff. “Everything went wrong. I had finally given them relief with my steady job and safe home, and I lost both in the same day.” I peer down, and Roman squeezes my fingers, telling me to go on. “I had such hopes that winning this award would change their minds about my work. That maybe instead of stressing them out, they’d believe in me.” I peer at my half-eaten pancake. “I decided that if I told them I was marrying you, moving in with my husband, quitting my job, leaving my house, I’d save them some worry.”
“You really think you cause them that much grief?”
I press my lips together. “I know I do.” I suck in a breath. “Oh. And while we’re being honest, I hate green beans.”
Twenty-Nine
The stingof Stella not liking the casserole I specifically made for her bites. But I won’t be another person in her gallery of judgment and grief.
“What do you need?” I ask.
“I wouldn’t mind a little time to get my feet back under me.” Her voice is small when she speaks, and I want to remind her that we all struggle at times. She has nothing to be ashamed of. And she isn’t a source of pain for Rebecca and Scott. How can she think that?
