12. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

Beck

I know Roman is scared, and I don’t blame him at all. But the way he flinched when I grabbed his waist wasn’t out of fear—it was out of pain. I slowly lift his shirt, and my breath catches when I see the ugly black bruise on his upper hip. I grit my teeth, struggling to keep my fury in check. “What the hell happened?” I choke out, trying and failing to keep the anger from my voice.

“He kicked me,” Roman whispers.

I can’t stand not having him in my arms. Swallowing hard, I hold my arms open to him. “Please, beautiful, come here. I have to hold you. I need it.” The urge to wrap him up and keep him loved and whole and fucking safe for the rest of my life is so strong that it almost overwhelms me. When he obeys, crawling into my arms, my soul settles a little.

He buries his face in my throat, breathing deeply, as if he’s trying to inhale me. I rub my hands up and down his back, careful to avoid his injuries. After a few seconds, he starts to shake, and then I feel wetness dripping down my throat and into the collar of my shirt.

“Oh, beautiful,” I whisper in what I’m hopeful is a soothing voice and not a murderous one. “It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m never going to let him hurt you again.”

“I like that,” he whispers, his soft breath warm against my neck.

“Well, I mean it. As long as I’m alive, he’s never going to hurt you again.”

He shakes his head. “Not that. I like when you call me beautiful.” His voice cracks a little, and a soft smile forms on my lips.

“Good. I like it too. And it’s true. You are. So fucking beautiful. Inside and out.”

He nods against me, burying his face deeper in my neck, a shuddering breath leaving his body. I hear the front door open, and he startles in my arms, pulling back as his wide brown eyes, filled with terror, lock onto mine.

“Hey,” I coo. “Shh, it’s okay. It’s just my parents.”

“Oh God, what are we going to tell them? What if they don’t let me stay?” Tears well up in his eyes again, and panic grips him so tightly he can’t seem to escape it.

“They’re going to let you stay, I promise. Honestly, they’re probably going to adopt you. They’ll love you so much.”

He nods, but doesn’t look convinced. That’s okay. I know my parents. My mom has never been able to refuse a broken soul. And I know she’s going to fall in love with Roman as surely as I have.

“Once you’re calmed down a little, we’ll go talk to them, okay?”

He nods and slumps back against me. I hold him until his soft cries taper off, and his breathing becomes even and relaxed.

He feels so good tucked against my body. I never want him to have to go through this again. I don’t want him to feel a harsh hand or hear another cruel word.

“He wasn’t always mean,” he says, his voice small and weak. “Sometimes I would take care of him. Clean him up when he had thrown up on himself, or pissed himself.”

I don’t say anything, content to let him get his words out.

“He would thank me for cleaning him up, or helping him to bed. Sometimes he calls me Rome,” he whispers, voice cracking. “He used to call me that when I was little, before Mom left. It’s like, when he calls me Rome, I feel a little safer. I know that he’s going to let me take care of him and not yell at me or hit me.”

Anger burns in my stomach at the way his father manipulates and exploits him, but I know that Roman doesn’t see it that way. He’s good and pure. He sees a man who needs help. A man who, despite being a prick most of the time, can be nice when he wants to be. No, he doesn’t see it as the manipulation it is. He sees it as a glimpse of the dad he could have.

“He apologizes. When he hurts me. Not right away, but if he sees the bruises, he tells me he’s sorry. He cries, sometimes. I really want him to like me,” he chokes out, and I squeeze him tighter, my own eyes filling with tears.

“He’s missing out, Roman. You’re an amazing person. You don’t deserve this.” My voice wobbles, and I have to swallow hard to keep from breaking down. I have to be strong right now. I can’t fall apart, but God, he’s breaking my heart.

“Do you think that makes me weak? That I still love him? That I still want him to be happy and taken care of?” he asks, a tremor in his voice.

“No,” I say firmly. “It means you’re a better person, and a better son than he could ever deserve. It means that I was right—you’re filled with pure goodness.” I nuzzle the side of his head, and he sighs, melting into me. After a couple of minutes of breathing in his sugary-sweet scent and holding him close, I whisper, “Can I ask you something?” He nods against me. “Your wrist?”

He sighs. “Yeah, he grabbed me by the throat and shoved me down. I did catch myself falling. It wasn’t really a lie. I promise.”

I drop a kiss to his temple. “Don’t worry about that, Roman. I don’t think you lied to me, it’s okay.”

We sit quietly for a few more minutes, and I know we should probably go talk to my parents. Putting it off isn’t going to help anything. “Come on, beautiful. Let’s go. Fair warning, I probably should have told you this sooner, but my mom is a nurse, and she’s going to want to check you out.”

He tenses in my hold, but doesn’t respond. “Is that going to be okay?” I ask.

“I… I don’t know?” he says, his voice questioning and shaky.

“It’s all going to be okay, I promise.”

He pulls back and clears his throat, his eyes darting up to mine. “Are you sure they aren’t going to hate me? What if they think I’m not good enough for you?”

I have to force down the angry growl that wants to tear from my chest at his dad’s awful words coming from his beautiful mouth. “No way, Roman. What did I say earlier? Repeat it back to me. I am good enough for anything I want.”

He dips his head and mumbles the words back to me. “Good. You are. Believe that. I’ll keep telling you until you do.”

He pulls free of my hold and stands up, his fingers twisting together nervously in front of him. I stand up beside him and take his hand. I can feel the hesitance in his steps as we walk toward the living room.

Mom’s soft laughter and the low rumble of my dad’s voice reach my ears as we approach. The second we make it to the doorway, Roman stops, his fear obvious from his stiff stance. My mom’s eyes shoot to us, the smile sliding off her face as she takes in Roman’s bruises.

She clears her throat and stands, walking toward us slowly. Roman hangs his head, drawing deep breaths through his nose, clearly trying to calm himself down. Mom’s eyes lock on him, assessing and calculating. As soon as she reaches us, she stops and waits. Between being an incredible pediatric nurse and an even better mom, her patience is unmatched. I glance over at Dad, and he’s watching us closely. I know he can sense something’s wrong. Hazards of the job, I’d say.

Roman’s head slowly raises, his eyes meeting hers. She has her nurse face on, the one she uses to soothe scared and sick kids, and I can practically feel Roman relax a little beside me. “Hi, I’m Roman,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. He’s so scared, but he’s being so brave. God, I’m so fucking proud of him. I glance back to Dad to see that he’s also noticed the bruising on Roman’s face and neck. His jaw is set in a harsh line, clearly not happy with what he’s seeing.

“Hi, Roman. I’m Lydia. It’s really nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you.” Her voice is calm and soothing, exactly like I knew it would be, and he relaxes a little more.

He nods. Mom lifts her hand up and gently brushes her fingers along the bruising on his face. He shifts back from her, his body tensing all at once, his breath coming out in harsh pants. She slowly pulls her hand away, and for the first time, her mask slips, pain and anger flashing across her face. It doesn’t take long for her to regain her composure, her eyes returning to their usual calm. “I don’t know if Beck told you, but I’m a nurse. I’d really like to check out your injuries to make sure nothing in your face is fractured. Would that be okay?”

He hesitates, his grip tightening on my hand. I can feel a slight tremble in his frame, and I step in front of him, blocking his view of anyone but me. I feel, rather than see Mom step back to give us some privacy.

I gently touch his chin. “She just wants to check you out. It’s okay.”

His eyes are wide with fear and doubt, making my heart ache. I step closer to him, our bodies brushing as I slide my hand from his chin up to cup his uninjured cheek. “I’ll be right here the entire time, okay? I won’t leave your side. Nobody here will hurt you. I promise.”

After a brief hesitation, he nods almost imperceptibly. I lean in and brush my nose against his before gently pressing our lips together. “It’s all going to be okay,” I whisper. He nods again, stronger this time.

I gently guide him into the living room and help him sit down on the couch, making sure he’s away from my dad. I keep my body between the two of them and block Roman’s view of him the best I can. I know he wouldn’t hurt a fly, but I’m also not sure how Roman will react to being so close to my six-foot five dad. Mom steps toward us and gently touches her fingers to Roman’s face.

“Okay, darling, I’m just going to palpate your skin a little. I want to make sure this cheekbone isn’t fractured. Is that alright?”

He nods and tilts his head up to her, his fingers gripping mine so tightly it hurts. His body is shaking, and I know this has to be hard for him. Fuck, it’s hard for me and I know my mom would never hurt him. I can’t imagine how scary it would be to not only be assaulted, but then to also have complete strangers so involved with it.

She gently examines his face, then asks him to open his mouth so she can check his teeth and gums. I’m not sure why, but she’s the nurse, so I trust her. I watch his face and reactions to make sure I don’t need to step in and ask for a break.

Her eyes drop to his throat, and with a gentle grip, she tilts his head back and forth, examining the deep bruising there.

“Can you breathe okay?”

A nod.

“What about swallowing? Can you swallow alright?”

Another nod.

“Everything seems okay. A little swollen and bruised. Probably painful, yeah? Have you taken anything?”

He shakes his head. Fuck. Why didn’t I think to offer him pain medicine?

“Do you have any allergies to any medications?”

Another shake of his head. “Let me get you some Advil, then. It will help with the pain and swelling.”

“Mom,” I cut in before she can walk off. “He also has a bruise on his side.” She doesn’t even blink, and I’m so thankful that she’s handling this in such a clinical way. I don’t think Roman could take it otherwise. Hell, I don’t think I could.

“Can I check that too?” she asks, and he looks at me, sadness and shame swirling in the honey-brown of his eyes.

“It’s okay,” I whisper, wishing I could find a way to erase his bad feelings. “She just wants to make sure that everything’s alright.” After another few moments, he nods, slumping back on the couch in what looks like defeat, his eyes glazed over like he’s disassociating.

I grip the hem of his shirt and whisper his name, waiting for him to turn to me. “Can I lift your shirt up?” I ask, wanting to make sure he’s alright with everything. If he’s not, we’ll take a break. I’ll take him back to my room and hold him until he’s ready to continue. He nods again, and I lift his shirt enough to expose the bruising on his hip, but no more. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Mom reach forward. I can tell the moment her fingers touch his skin because the corners of his eyes crinkle in pain.

“Hurts,” he whispers, his voice raw, and my heart drops into my stomach.

“I’m sure it does, darling,” Mom says, calm and collected as always. “But it doesn’t feel distended or swollen, which is a good sign. Have you had any nausea or vomiting, dizziness, or weakness?”

“No,” he croaks out, his eyes still glued to mine. I stare back at him, hoping I can infuse him with some strength. I’ll do anything to make sure he feels safe and comfortable.

“Good. I’d feel better if you’d go get this looked at in the hospital.” He shakes his head violently, and Mom quickly continues. “Okay, that’s fine. Let me get you some medicine and then we can talk. Have you eaten anything?”

He nods, so I turn to her. “I fed him bacon and eggs earlier.”

She pats his leg gently, a sweet, motherly gesture, and I hear him suck in a sharp breath. She stands up and walks out of the room. I glance over to Dad, who is watching us with questions is his eyes.

“Let’s wait for Mom to get back so we can all talk together,” I say, and he nods. I reach down to fix Roman’s shirt—one, so he isn’t so exposed, and two, so I don’t have to look at the bruising there. It’s making me some weird combination of heartbroken and fucking pissed.

Mom comes back into the room and hands Roman two pills and a glass of water. “Here you are, love. This should help some.”

He swallows the pills quickly, and I’m a little mad at myself for not thinking of offering him something earlier. I squeeze his hand and place a soft kiss on his temple. “I’m sorry that I didn’t think to get you anything sooner.”

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “I didn’t really think about it either.” That doesn’t make it right, though, and part of me can’t help but feel like he didn’t think about it because he feels like he deserves the pain.

Mom settles on the couch beside Dad, and they share a look. I know without them even saying anything that I’m right—Roman is about to get adopted into our family.