“I don’t,” he repeated, voice steady. “If you ever felt like you had to make yourself smaller to fit into my life, then I don’t deserve you in it.”
The words hit with a thud in her chest, sounding heroic in the quietest way. Lacey blinked hard.
“So, what do we do?” she asked.
Roman held her gaze. “I’m going to run over to Jax tonight so I can make the team meeting in the morning. I’ll come back. We have a few days before I have to check in for training. I’d rather not cram everything into one day like a test.”
Lacey let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, I’m sorry again.”
“It’s okay,” he assured her, and sounded like he really meant it. “I’m willing to wait. Lace, I’m willing to do hard things. I just need to know you’re in this with me. Because my feelings for you are only going to get stronger—and your role in your job is only going to get bigger.”
The room went quiet again and Lacey’s chest felt tight, her emotions tangled—love and guilt and longing and hope braided together.
She stood, restless, walking a few steps toward the kitchen island and then back.
“I am in it,” she said, turning to him. “I love you. That’s not— Roman, that’s not the question.”
His eyes softened at the word “love,” like it still startled him every time.
“Then what is the question?” he asked.
“I guess it’s…can I live two lives at once?”
“Nobody can,” he replied without a second of hesitation. “So, no.”
They stared at each other for a moment, then Roman stood, too, closing the distance between them, brushing her cheek with the back of his fingers. Tender. Careful.
“You okay?” he asked.
“No,” she whispered honestly. “But I will be. I think I need some…space.”
He nodded, accepting that.
When she left his house a little later, walking to her car with her heart aching but also strangely full, she knew one thing with sharp clarity—there was only one person who could help her untangle this.
Only one person who could tell her how to be brave without being reckless.
And it wasn’t Tessa.
August 1, 1993
I’m writing this in bed with the little reading light clipped onto my book because I don’t want to forget tonight, even though it probably doesn’t seem like a big deal to anyone else.
After dinner, Tessa and I went out back and sat on the steps, where the wood is still warm from the sun and you can hear the waves. The mosquitoes were bad, but Tessa didn’t even notice because I swear they don’t bite her.
Tessa had somehow turned an old shirt into something adorable by cutting off the sleeves and tying the bottom into a knot that made her waist look like a pencil. Even when her hair’s a mess from a day in the sun she somehow looks perfect.
She was acting weird, though. Not dramatic weird, just quieter than usual. She kept playing with her hair and kicking her flipflops against the step. I thought she was going to tell me she was mad at someone or that someone liked someone else or whatever little gossip we drum up after seeing kids our age at the beach all day.
Instead, she asked me if I thought it was a bad idea to sneak out later.
I honestly thought she was joking at first.
She said this guy she’s been hanging out with—Eric Something or Other—wants her to come meet him on the beachafter everyone’s asleep. At MIDNIGHT. She said it like it was exciting, but I could also tell she was nervous about the whole thing.
I know, I know. Tessa Wylie asking ME for advice about a boy. What are the chances, right?
But she asked me what I would do, which almost made me laugh because when would I ever be in that particular situation? Pretty sure not a single boy noticed my existence today.
