Page 75 of Romeo

I didn’t have enough energy left to throw a pillow.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally.

I blinked. “What?”

“I’m sorry.” He crossed the room slowly and sat on the edge of my bed. “I shouldn’t have said those things. Not like that. Not in front of everyone.”

My throat tightened. “You meant them.”

“I did.” His eyes met mine. “But that doesn’t mean I should have said them the way I did.”

I turned my face toward the wall. “You think I’m too young to know what I want.”

“I think you’re young, despite your past experiences,” he said quietly. “And I think Romeo is a man with a much longer past and a hell of a lot more experience. And that scares the hell out of me.”

“Why?” I looked at him again. “Why does it scare you so much?”

“Because I love you.” His voice broke on the words. “Because you’re my little sister, and I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

Tears burned behind my eyes. “You don’t think I can handle it.”

“I think you can handle anything,” he said fiercely. “But I don’t want you to have to. I don’t want you to have to be strong all the time. I don’t want you to have to fight for every damn thing you get.”

I swallowed around the lump in my throat. “That’s not your choice to make.”

“I know.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I know it’s not. But that doesn’t make it easier.”

“You have to let me live my life, Georgie. You have to let me make my own mistakes. Even if they hurt. Even if you don’t agree with them.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” I turned toward him completely. “Because it doesn’t feel like you do. It feels like you think I’m still that fifteen-year-old girl who gave her baby away. Like I haven’t grown up. Like I haven’t earned the right to make my own choices.”

“That’s not—” He stopped, his jaw tightening before he looked down at his hands. “You’re right.”

I stared at him. “What?”

“You’re right.” When his eyes came back to mine, they were red. “I do still see you that way sometimes. And that’s not fair to you.”

The admission hurt more than I expected.

“I know you’re strong,” he continued. “You’ve proven that a hundred times over. You survived things that would have destroyed most people. You gave birth alone. You made an impossible choice with Charlie, and you rebuilt yourself from nothing.” His voice cracked. “I’m not scared you can’t handle life, Fiona. I’m scared of him.”

My fingers tightened around the blanket.

“I know men like him—men who collect women like trophies, who get bored and move on. Men who say all the right things until they get what they want.” Georgie’s hands curled into fists. “And I’ve watched you change over these past months. The way you light up when your phone buzzes. How you disappear into conversations with him. How he’s becoming the center of everything, and you’re letting it happen.”

I opened my mouth, but he kept going.

“I’m terrified,” he said, his voice breaking. “I’m terrified he’s going to hurt you in ways you won’t see coming. That he’ll make you feel like you’re the only woman in the world until he’s done with you. That he’ll take everything you are and leave you empty.” He wiped roughly at his eyes. “And I can’t protect you from that. I can’t stop you from choosing him. And that’s what scares me most—that you’ll give him everything, and he’ll destroy you, and there won’t be a damn thing I can do about it.”

Hearing the fear in his voice took some of the anger out of me. Knowing he wasn’t trying to control me because he thought I was stupid helped me understand why he was scared.

“We’re just friends.”

Georgie rolled his eyes, and I smacked his arm.

“We are.” I couldn’t help giggling at the look he gave me. “I like talking to him. He listens to what I say. Really listens. He doesn’t say inappropriate things. He’s not sexual.”