Page 36 of The Editor’s Choice

He’s still nuzzling against my neck when he plants one chaste kiss there. It nearly does me in. I swear, if I had been standing, my knees would have betrayed me with that one simple gesture.

This man has some sort of voodoo power over me that I’ve never experienced before. I’m definitely no virgin, but I have never been so easily affected by any man in my life.

I roll halfway over to face him, effectively cutting off his access to my neck. Hopefully not giving too much away at the same time.

“Let me make you breakfast?” I ask, hand cupping his strong jaw which now has a fine stubble coating it. Looking into those gorgeous eyes, I can’t help but get a little lost. He looks so happy, like nothing is wrong in the world.

Like we haven’t both murdered people.

I banish the thought before it has a chance to ruin the moment. Thoughts of what I’ve done have ruined basically every waking and non-waking moment for me recently, and I refuse to let them have this one too. For right now, I’m being entirely selfish.

Zoning back into reality, I push up off the couch and head to the kitchen. “Alexa,” I say, “play Rain by Sleep Token.” I sway gently, letting the music consume me, as I start pulling things from the fridge. Eggs, bacon, sausage, canned biscuits.

I start some gravy from scratch, just like my nana taught me when I was a kid. Completely lost in the work and music, I jump as Roman comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around my stomach and pressing himself into my back. A slow smile forms as I lean my head back against his shoulder, more content than I’ve ever been.

For a bittersweet moment, I imagine a future with this man. The house, the career, the laughter and tears. The journey. That’s the sweet part. Filtering in quickly after are the thoughts of how this is almost assuredly going to end. Going up in flames, burning us both beyond recognition.

Chokehold begins playing, continuing the Sleep Token mood, and it couldn’t be more fitting. Between Rain and Chokehold, it describes our budding relationship perfectly. Intoxicating but doomed from the beginning if we were to be totally honest with ourselves.

Instead, I hang onto the thread of hope like it’s the last breath of oxygen I’ll ever pull into my lungs. This man awakens something inside me that has been asleep for far too long, nearly forgotten all together. A piece of me that feels hopeful, happy to still be here on this earth. Content to deal with the trials and hardships coming my way just to get the chance to be held by him one more time. The thought has the back of my throat burning, tears threatening to fill my eyes.

Clearing my throat, I wiggle my way out of his hold, determined to put some space between us before it’s too late to do so. As much as I’d love to stay in his arms forever, I can’t afford to get too attached, especially with everything we have to face.

“Do you mind to watch this for just a minute? I need to go to the bathroom,” I explain, walking away from the stove and my future, feeling the shutdown coming on.

There’s a heavy concern in his eyes as he nods, watching me go. I feel his eyes on me as I make my way through the living room to the bedroom, willing myself to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Pushing the bathroom door gently until I hear the quiet click, I breathe a sigh of relief as my eyes fill with tears, the strangest mix of happiness, terror, and grief. I feel as if my heart is simultaneously being ripped from my chest and beating with a new purpose. The feeling is overwhelming, threatening to take me under in a swift panic.

Easing myself to the floor, leaning back against the door, I pull my knees up, cradling them to my chest, hoping to soothe the sensation building up inside it. It’s harder to pull in full breaths now. My throat feels tight, heart flip flopping inside my ribcage. The feeling is so violent and tumultuous I wonder if I’m on the verge of a heart attack.

All the breathing exercises in the world couldn’t save me from the panic building in my blood. I try breathing in through my nose, out slowly through my mouth. Inhale for eight, hold for four, exhale for four. Internally, the only change is a rapid rise in panic and my heart rate.

So instead of fighting it, I give in, letting it take over me. My mind races, consuming me entirely. Thoughts of Emily, of Dawson, both the past and the future, Roman, all of it races through my mind. The feeling is overwhelming, like climbing to the top of a skyscraper and jumping. A total freefall destined for death at the end.

A small knock sounds behind me. I’m far too lost in my head to even acknowledge it. “You okay?” he says soothingly, voice soft and quiet. I shake my head silently, unable to use my voice, knowing it would break and give me away. I angrily wipe at a tear as it makes its way down my cheek to join the others that have collected on my shirt.

“Can I come in?” He doesn’t turn the knob or try to open the door. Simply asks for my acceptance, then waits, letting me keep some semblance of control in the spiral. I breathe out loudly, a rush of air leaving my body, along with what’s left of my resolve.

I stand on shaky legs, swiping at my reddened cheeks and puffy eyes. I look absolutely ridiculous, but the visual is a good representation for how I’m feeling at the moment. Broken, ugly, and scarred. Not good enough. Incapable and undeserving.

Wrapping my hand around the round knob, I lean my forehead against the door, entirely unsure if I’m ready to face him but knowing I can’t hide in here forever. I twist the knob and pull the door toward me slowly. When the door opens, my jaw hits the floor, heart leaping inside my chest.

Holy fuck. I was not expecting this.

Chapter Twenty

Roman

“Can I come in?” I had asked, waiting patiently for her answer. I didn’t want to push her too hard or make the situation any worse than it already was. Something had flipped in her all of a sudden, shifting from happy and content to something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on. She was fine one second, and fighting tears the next. When she excused herself, I had felt a surge of panic, followed by a crushing helplessness.

As she opened the bathroom door, I could see her red cheeks and swollen eyes. Tear streaks were still painted across her face, eyes still watery. She looked absolutely stunning, despite being upset. Hell, I think half of her beauty in that moment was because of that upset. She was raw, completely authentic. Vulnerable.

As her jaw falls open in surprise, I take a small step back, allowing her to survey the room. During her time in the bathroom, I made quick work of breakfast before setting it up for her in the bedroom. There is food, juice, and coffee, all prepared for her when she’s ready.

The tears return to her eyes, along with a look of astonishment. My heart beats a little faster, happy I could do this for her. She nearly tackles me as she throws her arms around my neck, forcing me to take a couple stumbling steps backward.

“Thank you,” she whispers into my neck with a small sniffle. “Thank you for everything.”