Page 111 of When a Soul Cries

“Sol!” Rome shouted through the rain as he hurried after me.

Rome caught up and stepped in front of me.

“Move,” I demanded, trying to step around him.

“No,” Rome answered firmly, planting himself in my path.

“Rome, please,” I begged, exhaustion draining the fight from my voice.

“No,” he repeated, softer this time but no less determined.

I tried going around him.

His hands closed carefully around my upper arms, firm enough to stop me without squeezing Halo between us.

“Look at me,” Rome said, bending slightly to try to catch my eyes.

I wouldn’t.

“Sol,” he said again, quieter.

“I said I’m fine!” I shouted, frustration, embarrassment and exhaustion finally spilling into my voice.

“And I’m telling you you’re not!” Rome shot back, his face tightening with concern.

My face crumbled before I could stop it.

I turned my head.

Rain ran down my cheeks, mixing with tears I didn’t want him to see.

Rome’s grip softened immediately.

For several seconds, neither of us spoke.

Halo whimpered against my chest.

Then Rome lowered his voice.

“Get in the car,” he said, the command losing some of its edge as his eyes moved toward Halo.

“I don’t need—” I started, shaking my head.

“Your baby is getting soaked,” Rome interrupted, his gaze settling on her wet curls.

I looked down.

Halo’s curls were wet.

Her little face was buried against my shirt.

That shut me up.

My pride didn’t mean shit when it came to her.

Rome pulled off his jacket and held it over Halo while guiding us toward a black SUV.

He opened the passenger door.