10. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

Beck

I stare at my phone, willing it to go off. Willing Roman to text me back. I’m worried. At first, I didn’t think too much about it when he didn’t respond last night. He said he had to go home, so I figured he got busy. But now, I’m starting to freak out. I hope I didn’t ruin things by telling him about my feelings, but my gut is telling me that’s not it. My stomach churns in a way that tells me something else is going on.

I decide to call Riley. She answers on the third ring.

“Hey, Beck, what’s up?”

“I’m worried about Roman.”

“Okay,” she says, drawing out the word.

“Hear me out. We had an amazing time last night, right? We all hung out, we had fun. After you left, we did… stuff . And then crickets. He hasn’t responded to a single one of my texts, and now his phone is going straight to voicemail.”

“Maybe his phone’s dead, Beck. It doesn’t mean something is wrong.”

Perfectly reasonable explanation, but no. It doesn’t feel like that. “I don’t know, Ri. Something doesn’t feel right. I’m worried.” My mind flashes to his hurt wrist, the way he avoided my eyes when I asked him about it, the way his smile melted from his face when I pushed.

“So go check on him?”

“He doesn’t want me at his house. Every time I’ve picked him up, he’s asked me to do it at the end of his driveway. And I drop him off there too.”

“Maybe his dad doesn’t know he’s into guys.” Riley says. And I know for a fact that’s true. But it still doesn’t erase the uneasy feeling gnawing at me.

“He doesn’t. We’ve talked about it, and maybe that’s all it is, but then why would he just stop responding to me? Last night, when I dropped him off, he seemed nervous. His smile was off, and he barely met my eyes. And a couple of weeks ago, his wrist was hurt. I asked him about it, and he said he fell—played it off like it was nothing—but it didn’t feel right.”

She sighs loudly. “I don’t know, Beck. What’s your gut saying?”

“My gut is saying I need to check on him.”

“Then go.”

“I’m going to,” I say, already pulling my shoes on. “I’ll call you later, Ri. Love you.”

“Love you too, Beck. Let me know if you need anything.”

I hang up without saying anything else, all my focus on what I need to do.

When I pull into Roman’s driveway, I’m taken aback by the state of the house. Roman is standing there, looking like he’d like to run away. I step out of the car and take in everything around me. God, I can’t believe he’s been living like this. Nobody deserves this, especially not him. I find myself in awe again of how good of a person he is, despite all this.

As I walk toward him, I can’t take my eyes off his face. There’s a large bruise across his cheek, and what looks like fingerprint bruising around his throat. The sight of it makes my heart lurch in my chest. I stop dead in my tracks, and he turns around quickly to look behind him, panic flashing in his expression.

I close the distance between us and when he turns back toward me, his eyes widen in fear. My chest tightens painfully. When I reach up to touch his face, he flinches away from me, and it feels like my heart drops right into my stomach. I slowly lower my hand, trying not to scare him, and take a step back.

“I was worried about you,” I say after a moment.

“Why?” Why? What a fucking crazy thing to ask. I trusted my gut, and it seems my gut was spot on.

“You didn’t answer any of my texts. I thought…” My voice trails off as I glance around again at his home. “Oh, Roman,” I whisper, my heart breaking in my chest for this sweet man. Anger flares in his expression.

“Fucking leave, Beck,” he says, but it lacks any bite. It’s shaky and nervous, and it breaks my heart all over again.

I lock eyes with him and slowly shake my head. I’m not going anywhere.

“Leave, Beck. I don’t want or need your fucking pity. Get in your car and drive away. Leave.” It sounds like he wants it to come off as an order, but it doesn’t. There’s a quiver in his voice that is destroying my fucking heart.

I take a couple of steps toward him, moving slowly so I don’t scare him again. When I raise my hand, he’s as still as a statue, like it’s taking all his strength not to jerk away from me. I grasp his chin gently and turn his face, my blood boiling as I get a closer look at the bruising on his cheek. I release his chin and let my fingers trail over the bruise. Then I tilt his head back to examine the bruising around his throat, fingerprints visible on his skin.

“Who did this, Roman?” I ask, anger seeping into my voice. I let my eyes scan his face until they connect with his. They widen, and he flinches away again. Oh my God. He’s afraid of me. That realization makes my stomach churn. Oh, beautiful, I would never hurt you.

I force myself to relax, to soften my expression, trying to radiate calm. I’m not sure how well I’m doing. Roman takes a breath, the fear still lingering in his eyes.

“Please leave, Beck,” he whispers.

“Why do you want me to leave?” I ask, my heart in my throat. “Because you don’t want me with you or because you don’t want me to see you like this?”

He drops his eyes in shame. “The second one.”

“Well, I’ve already seen, and I can’t unsee. So again I ask, who did this to you?” I watch as he takes several deep, shaky breaths, like he’s trying to calm himself. After a few moments of silence, I try again. “Tell me, Roman, please.”

“My dad,” he finally says, so quietly that I have to strain to hear him.

The words are like a punch to the gut. I drop my hand from his face, needing a moment to get myself under control, so I don’t scare him again. “Please don’t leave, Beck. Please, ” he begs, his voice cracking. “I’m sorry I was hateful to you. I just… I didn’t want anyone to know.”

The pain in his voice almost takes me out. I tap his chin. I’m not going anywhere, and I want his eyes on mine when I tell him so. “Look at me, Roman.”

He slowly raises his gaze, tears welling in his eyes. Fuck.

“I’m not going anywhere. We are.” He frowns deeply, and I can see him wince at the pain the movement causes.

Anger rises up so fast it almost chokes me, but I force myself to push it down. I can get mad later. Right now, I need to get him the fuck out of here.

“I’m serious, Roman. Go pack a bag. You’re coming with me,” I say, proud of how even my voice is.

His mouth drops open, and he stares at me. “What…? What do you mean?”

“I mean exactly what I said. Go pack a bag. Right now. Do you want me to come with you?” He shakes his head quickly, but then something in his expression shifts, his eyes glazing over as if he’s remembering something awful. He nods and relief floods me. No fucking way was I going to let him go into this house alone, but it makes things a lot easier that he agreed.

I take his hand in mine. “Let’s go, Roman. Pack enough stuff for at least a couple of days. We’ll figure out something more permanent later, okay?” I know my mom and dad won’t care if I bring him home with me. We have a spare bedroom that no one ever uses. But I can’t leave him like this, and when Mom finds out what happened? Well, I can say with certainty she’s not going to let him go anywhere, anyway.

He nods, and we walk through the house together. Roman keeps his eyes down, but I can’t help but glance around, taking in the state of the house. The flooring is destroyed in a few places. Empty whiskey bottles are scattered across the living room, and the furniture is old, stained, and ripped.

“I’m, uh, sorry about the mess,” he says, his voice full of shame and sadness.

“Don’t apologize, Roman. None of this is your fault,” I say firmly, but his shoulders slump, like the weight of everything is physically pushing him down.

We walk into what I assume is his bedroom, and he shuts the door behind us, locking it with a deadbolt. A fucking deadbolt . Something sick settles in my gut, and I realize that this isn’t the first time Roman has been hurt by his father. I’ve never been this mad in my life, but I force myself to stay calm. Now is not the time to lose it.

When I look up, Roman is staring at me nervously, biting his bottom lip, looking like he’s ready to run. I step closer to him slowly, so I don’t scare him, and pull him gently into my arms. For a few heartbeats, he holds himself stiffly, but then he sags against me, his entire body trembling. I rub my hand up and down his back, trying to soothe him. I hear a sniffle, then another, and he starts shaking harder in my embrace.

“I didn’t want you to know,” he sobs, his voice breaking. Fuck, that hurts. The pain radiates from my chest and explodes in my stomach, making my breath catch in my throat and tears burn my eyes.

“Come on, let’s get your stuff together. As soon as we get to my house, I promise I’ll hold you exactly like this, but I want you out of this fucking house right now.”

He nods against me and slowly pulls back, wiping his face, clearly trying to pull himself together. He grabs a backpack, stuffing it with clothes frantically. I pace back and forth, trying to keep myself in check, trying to stop the anger from swallowing me whole.

“Where’s your dad now?” I ask, working hard to keep my voice even despite the fury rattling in my bones.

“In his bed. He was… he was—” he chokes out, more tears spilling from his eyes.

“It’s okay, Roman,” I coo softly, pausing my pacing to return to his side. “Let’s get you out of here,” I whisper into his ear, rubbing his back.

He nods, taking a shaky breath before wiping his eyes again, and goes back to packing. Meanwhile, I’m trying to talk myself out of murdering his father in cold blood.

After he gets a couple of days’ worth of clothes packed, his phone and charger, and some odds and ends together, I’m ready to drag him from this house and into mine where I can keep him safe. He stands in front of his door, the bag in his hand almost vibrating with how hard he’s shaking. I pull it gently from him before slinging it over my shoulder and unlocking the door. I twine my fingers with his and pull him from the room, leading him back through the house and outside. When we get to my car, I drop his hand to open the door for him, and press a kiss to his forehead before helping him in and shutting the door behind him.

As I walk to my side of the car, I force deep breaths into my lungs. My hands are shaking with the urge to go back into the house, drag his dad from the bed, and beat the shit out of him. The shell-shocked man in my passenger seat is the only reason I’m able to calm myself and climb in the car instead of turning back to the house. I have to get him out of here. Plain and simple. He’s my priority right now. Nothing else.

When we walk through the front door of my house, Roman is basically a shell of himself. The smiley, happy version of him is long gone. All that’s left in his place is a traumatized, sad man with empty eyes and a flat expression. Mom and Dad are out for the day, and I don’t know when they’ll be back. I’ll have to explain what’s going on when they get home, but for right now, I need to focus on taking care of Roman.

I lead him to my bedroom, and he follows me inside. He hasn’t spoken once since he told me where his dad was. I’m worried, but just getting him out of there is enough to smooth some of the rough edges of my anxiety and rage. I guide him to my bed, urging him to sit down. Once he does, I kneel in front of him, taking his shoes off one by one. I help him into the bed, and he snuggles down into the covers, closing his eyes. I step away, pulling my phone from my pocket. I have to text Riley. I have to let her know my gut was right. I have to let her know what I walked into. Roman’s voice interrupts me before I can even unlock the screen. He’s chanting one word over and over again, and it nearly cracks my heart in two when I realize what it is.

Stay.