Page 112 of When a Soul Cries

I climbed inside.

Warm air rushed over my wet skin.

Halo sniffled against me while I rubbed her back.

Rome got behind the wheel and shut his door.

For a few seconds, he just stared at me.

“Who was that?” Rome finally asked, his brows still drawn together as he studied my face.

I kept my eyes on the window. “My aunt.”

“The one from Mississippi?” he asked, watching my reaction carefully.

My head turned toward him.

I didn’t ask how he knew.

I didn’t have the energy.

Rome’s eyes stayed on me. “What did she want?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said quietly, turning back toward the rain-streaked window.

“Why was she chasing you?” Rome pressed, his voice controlled but clearly not willing to pretend what he’d seen was normal.

“Rome,” I warned, exhaustion weighing down his name.

“Sol, that woman was charging at you while you were holding a baby,” he said, gesturing toward Halo with one hand.

I looked down at Halo.

“I said I don’t want to talk about it,” I repeated, my voice tightening.

His jaw flexed.

He looked like he wanted to push.

Instead, he rubbed a hand over his beard and exhaled.

“Fine,” Rome said reluctantly, settling back against his seat.

Rain tapped against the windshield.

Halo’s cries had softened into tired hiccups.

Rome glanced at me again.

“Where am I taking you?” he asked, his tone calmer now.

My stomach tightened.

There was no way I was letting him see that motel.

“East Palmer,” I answered, keeping my face turned away.

“Where on East Palmer?” Rome asked immediately.