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“Why didn’t I just fucking trust her?” Not just that time—any of the chances I had to back my wife, to prevent the abyss that cleaves Rhode Island, and my heart, in two.
“Because you are a hardheaded man, stubborn, with an ego the size of your giant empire. It’s a surprise you can fit inside the house.” My healer, Thalia, insisted on being present while I spoke, in the barest terms—our conversation was like none other I ever had—but the consequence of that was wearing her ire and disdain aimed my way.
“Thalia,” Dom warns from his customary position in the back corner of my office. The huge, tall man loiters in the shadows, seeing as much, I guessed, as the child across from me.
Is he a child, though? Roman lost his parents four years ago, and he endured similar tortures to Willow under their uncle’s hand. He would have been a man before others could figure out how to fend for themselves. No, I do the boy a disservice in not giving him credit for a sharp mind.
“It’s all right.” I wave Dom down as he stares hard at Thalia, who does her best to ignore him, standing straight for her fine-boned, small stature, and glares at me. “I understand Thalia’s reasons. She’s always welcome to voice them.”
The girl in question snorts—another whose childhood was ripped away when she was trafficked. Thalia spent months in my house communicating with Dom nonverbally, and he never gave up on her. Just like I won’t give up on Willow’s little brother.
But how pissed she will be with me for bringing him within my walls. Not that I have any intentions of hurting or scaring the boy. Man. Whatever. He’s the bridge to my wife. If I can earn his loyalty and respect, just maybe I will have a twisted olive branch to extend that she might accept.
Unlike the one she yanked out from under Konnor when she announced my sister was pregnant with his brother’s child.
A bridge with many exits indeed.
“Young … man.” I pause, refocusing on what would get Roman to my side of the void. “Your sister is effervescent. Beautiful. Powerful. All the things that both attract and terrify men around the globe. More the latter,” I muse.
The corner of Roman’s mouth quirks.
“And she is also my wife. And while I understand her need to retain her independence, I live every second in terror that some asshole has killed the woman I love because I’m not able to be there to prevent it.” I lay out my pain openly.
Roman watches me through curious eyes, and I wonder what he sees. The reflection of himself in twenty years? A man who had everything and lost it because, as Thalia pointed out, my ego didn’t have room for two? Or just a broken soul who reflects my pain in his own way.
The kid stares at me for a moment, then taps his chest and points upstairs. I glance over his head at Dom who shrugs with his hands out.
Roman wanders his fingers along his arm and slaps his hand. Thalia lets out a laugh but when I glanced at her for aid, her face blanks and she stares at the window behind me.
Fucking fabulous.
Looks like I’m going this one alone then.
“You want to go up top and…” Fall off the building? I don’t get that last bit at all.
Roman’s smile widens and he nods once.
“You’ll go upstairs to look at your sister’s room?” Why would he need to do that? “I was always shit at charades,” I grumble.
“He wants to stay upstairs and help you mend your relationship with his sister, but also he’s looking forward to seeing you fall on your face in the attempt,” Thalia adds with a sugary-sweet smile in my direction.
Dom turns a laugh into a cough through his fist while I stare at the boy across from me. The Hernandez family has some weird fucking sense of humor. I shrug. “Me too, Roman. Let me show you the rooms taken, then you can go exploring and pick whichever one you like.” I count in my head. “There’s at least twelve free. Pick whatever.”
Roman Hernandez smiles, stands, and grabs the coat Dom holds out to him, waiting for me to lead him up the stairs. I shake my head, bemused. Surely this day can’t get any weirder.
Until Thalia’s voice ripples up to the next story where she rips Dom a new one for not being able to interpret the boy’s intentions.
My steps are a little faster in the attempt to avoid her before she latches her claws into me, too. I’m fond of her, but not like Dom. He can have her.
****
While the kid explores, I make a much-needed call to my frenemy.
“Rafe,” Konnor’s Irish lilt greets me. “Tell me something I don’t know about my family. Maybe I can repay the favor.”
Good to know you’re grasping at straws the way I was when Willow ran from me.
My chest aches like a whiny bitch but I lost my motherfucking wife, for Christ’s sake. I am allowed to grieve. Because I’m starting to wonder if I will ever actually get her back.
