Page 46 of From Rome, With Hate

“Julianna.” I try to call for her again.

“It was your idea to live separate lives!” she shouts back.

Bitterness simmers in my veins. “As if it wassodifficult for you.”

Halfway down the length of the pond, she whips around to face me. “What is that supposed to mean?” Her dark hair clings to her face. Water drips from the ends, spilling onto her bare chest and shoulders. Her chest is expanding dramatically with every breath she draws in and lets out.

I step closer to her, bringing the tip of my nose to hers as she raises her chin to stare me directly in the eye.

With a hardened, challenging stare, she repeats, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Do you know how many times I had to watch you with someone else?” I ask. It feels good to get it out, the bitter thoughts I’ve carried with me for years.

“You have no idea what I’ve done to build a life of my own. One that ismineand mine alone.” Her bottom lip trembles. “Part of that included dating. You explicitly said we could see other people. Don’t tell me you haven’t done the same, and don’t pretend as if seeing me with other men has bothered you.”

I open my mouth to argue back but stop.

Julianna’s perfectly manicured brows pinch before they relax. A water droplet slips from the corner of her eye, but I can’t tell if it’s from the rain or if she’s shedding a tear.

“Exactly. You have nothing to say,” she bites back. “This conversation is clearly going nowhere, and you aren’t worth standing in the rain for it, anyway.”

“At least nothing has changed,” I mutter, stepping back.

“No. You don’t get to do that.” She points an angry finger at my chest, stabbing me with her black-painted nail. “You’re theone I saw with Macy that night. You knew how much it would hurt me to see you with her, but you did it anyway. I needed you, and you weren’t there. I needed you, my husband, after…”

She can’t get the rest of her sentence out. Her gaze drops to her finger before she pulls it back as though she’s been burned. She turns her back on me and marches along the length of the pond, leaving me to watch her in stunned silence.

I can’t erase the pain I just saw in her eyes at the mention of that night. I’ve shoved the guilt down for so long. Hated myself for it, even. Punished myself repeatedly in different ways: drugs, alcohol, all of it. And here she is, shoving it back in my face. I’d argue back, but I know I deserve it.

“We should go back inside!” I shout over the rumbling thunder. A bolt of lightning flashes in the distance, the rain picking up.

“You go!” she shouts back. “I’m finishing my walk.”

She reaches the edge of the bridge and steps onto it. The bridge is nearly one hundred years old, having been built before my grandparents acquired the land.

“Lark, come on,” I plead with her.

She doesn’t listen, simply shaking her head as she crosses the bridge. It creaks under her feet, but that doesn’t stop her.

Panic blooms from head to foot when I hear it.

A large crashing sound followed by Julianna’s scream.

My eyes widen as she disappears from behind the railing.

Then I’m racing toward her.

FIFTEEN

JULIANNA

The searing pain shoots up my leg and straight to my chest. I grip my knee as I look down and see half my leg has disappeared beneath the bridge floor. My foot sunk straight through the board as if it were made of soft ground. The boards were creaking when I stepped onto the bridge, but I didn’t think it was inthisbad of shape. I guess when things are left neglected for years, they’re bound to weaken.

“Lark!” Rome shouts from the foot of the bridge.

He doesn’t hesitate to race across it to meet me before he sinks to his knees beside me and his panicked gaze drops to my leg. Bright blue eyes widen as he reaches for my leg, but I flinch.

“I’m fine, Rome.” I grunt, trying to pull my leg up from under the broken board. “I’ll get it out.”