17. Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

Roman

M y heart, which was pounding in fear mere moments ago, is now pounding from Beck’s gentle kisses. The feel of his body against mine, the way his tongue expertly explores my mouth, the way he gently tugs my hair to guide me—everything about him makes me feel so needy. My cock is hard, pressed uncomfortably against the zipper of my jeans, desperate for him. I always want so much more. Every time we touch, it feels like it’s never enough to satiate the need I have inside of me for him.

But then he says, “I want to talk about your dad.”

Fear explodes in my stomach, and my cock wilts rapidly. My breathing spikes until I’m gasping for air. Panic grips me, my body jerking and shaking as I struggle to draw oxygen into my lungs.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I hear Beck groan. It sounds like he’s underwater. Or maybe it’s me who’s underwater, since I’m the one who can’t breathe. Something grabs my hand and pulls it up. Beck. My fingers brush something. His shirt. He presses my palm against his chest, and my fingers flex against the fabric stretched over his warm body. “Follow my breathing, Roman. Come on, you can do it.” I hear him say, and I try. I focus on the rise and fall of his chest, working hard to match my breathing to his. Oxygen starts to fill my lungs again as I match his slow, even breaths.

When my brain comes back online, he’s chanting, “I’m sorry,” over and over. His voice sounds wrecked, full of pain, and when I finally manage to get my gaze to lock on him, tears are spilling from his crystal blue eyes.

“It’s okay,” I croak out, tears of my own threatening to spill. God, I’m so fucking tired of feeling this way. Of having the slightest thing set me off.

“It’s not okay, Roman,” Beck cries. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

I flex my fingers against his shirt again, needing to touch him, needing to feel connected to him. I don’t know what else to do, so I pull him toward me, slamming our mouths together. His breath hitches in his chest, and he kisses me back roughly, the taste of his tears mingling with our kiss. I kiss him until his tears run dry and my body fully relaxes. Until all the bad thoughts are gone from my mind, and it’s just Beck and me, lost in each other. He pulls back from the kiss and stares at me, his eyes full of love. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, his voice calmer than before, but dripping with remorse.

“It’s really okay,” I assure him. I never want him to feel bad or be upset. I never want him to cry or be hurt, especially not because of me. “I didn’t mean to lose my shit. What, um,” I pause, dragging deep breaths into my lungs, thankful that I can breathe again. “What did you want to know?”

He shakes his head. “I didn’t want to know anything. Not like that, anyway. I wanted to know if you were still thinking about checking in on him.”

I hesitate, knowing how upset he gets when I talk about being worried about my dad. He’s an awful person, and I know that. But he’s still my dad, and I’m all he has. But making Beck mad is the last thing I want.

He sighs, and I cringe, a familiar shame creeping in as I hang my head.

“Hey, beautiful,” Beck says gently, and my body tingles at the rush his words give me. “Get those gorgeous eyes back on me, yeah?”

I glance back up at him hesitantly, and when our eyes lock, a soft smile spreads across his face.

“If you want to check on him, I’m fine with that.” I can feel the confusion marring my face, not sure where his change of heart came from. “But I have some concerns.”

“What kinds of concerns?”

“Well, I don’t want you coming back to me hurt, physically or otherwise.” I nod. I don’t want that either, truthfully. The thought of going to see my dad makes my stomach twist with nearly as much anxiety as the thought of him being alone does. “So I have some ideas,” he continues. “What if we go together?”

“No,” I croak out. “He’s… he’s really hateful, Beck. I don’t want him to hurt you with his words.”

He cups my cheek in his hand and smiles at me. It’s not a happy smile, though. The skin around his eyes is a little tight, the set of his shoulders rigid and tense. “I don’t care about your dad, Roman. For him to hurt me with his words, I’d have to value his opinion. I don’t. Not even a little. What I care about is you. And his words won’t hurt me, but they will hurt you.”

“Yeah,” I whisper.

“So, back to my ideas. I can go with you and sit at the end of the driveway on the phone with you, so I can hear what’s going on. That way, if you need me, I can be right there. Or, you can go on your own with a check-in time and if you miss that check-in, I can call for help. And by help, I mean, my dad. And by that, I mean, as a cop.”

I nod, considering the options. I really don’t like the idea of Beck hearing the vile things he says, but I’m also not sure that I want the cops involved. I didn’t want to press charges before, and I don’t want to now. “Is there an option you prefer over the other?”

“Yes. I’d want to be there, if at all possible. I don’t want to take any chances on something happening and someone not being able to get to you quickly.”

“I think I like that idea too.” I’d feel much more secure if he was there. Plus, he’ll be with me on the way home in case something does happen, to keep me calm and bring me back to myself if needed.

“Perfect. When would you like to go?”

I kind of want to go right now. I haven’t been there in over a month. I stopped making sure he was paying the bills. I stopped doing anything. I honestly can’t even imagine the state of the house right now. I don’t even know if he has running water or electricity. You wouldn’t think they’d shut them off that quickly, though. “Can we go now?”

Beck stares at me, his eyes searching mine, and after a long moment he nods. “Yeah, we can go now. I’m sorry that I tried to force you not to go back there. It wasn’t fair. I put my worries over your own needs.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. You wanted to keep me safe. I know that. I don’t feel you put yourself above my needs. You’ve been giving me what I need from our very first date.”

He smiles at me, relief clear in his expression, and brushes his lips gently over mine once again.

I’m a nervous wreck when we pull onto my road. My leg is bouncing despite Beck’s hand resting on it, and my fingers are drumming an uneven pattern on the other. My heart is fluttering like crazy, and panic is ready to crawl up my throat and steal my ability to breathe at any moment.

“It’s going to be okay, beautiful,” Beck says. I think he means for it to sound convincing, but it would be impossible to miss the tremor in his voice.

I’m so nauseous from my nerves that I’m half sure if I open my mouth, I’m going to vomit, so I stay silent.

We pull into the driveway. The crunch of gravel under the tires makes my stomach lurch, and bile creeps up my throat. I breathe through my nose, trying to keep myself calm, swallowing the extra saliva pooling in my mouth.

Beck puts the car in park and takes off his seatbelt, then turns to face me.

“Roman,” he says. “Look at me.”

I follow his lead, unbuckling my seatbelt and turn to him.

“Don’t let him get in your head, okay? You’re here for him. He needs you, not the other way around. You’ve been doing fine without him, and you will continue to do fine without him.”

I nod.

“Good, now call me. You’re not walking up the driveway until I’m on the phone with you. I want to hear every word he says. And if you need me, tell me. I’ll be there in seconds.”

“Okay. I can do this,” I say, trying to hype myself up as I pull my phone out of my pocket, my hands shaking so badly it takes me three tries.

I dial Beck’s number, and he answers immediately. I hit the button to turn on the speaker and open the door, stepping into the driveway on shaky legs.

I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. I deserve good things. I deserve good things. I deserve good things.

I walk up the driveway, my heart pounding loudly in my ears.

Beck’s voice coming from my phone startles me. “You can do this, Roman. I believe in you. Check on him, make sure he’s okay, and then come back to me.”

“I can do this,” I say again.

“Yes, you can do this,” Beck repeats. I steel my shoulders as I walk past the line of trees that will effectively block Beck’s view of me.

There’s silence as I approach the house. Nothing looks different than it did before, which is a relief. I had half-convinced myself the roof was going to cave in on him while I was gone.

I step through the front door, and Dad is sitting on the couch, a half empty whiskey bottle in his hand. His eyes dart to me, and he sets the bottle down, then stands and walks toward me. Panic fills me in an instant, but no blow comes. No harsh words. No fists. His arms wrap around me, and I freeze.

Is he… hugging me?

“Rome,” he rasps in my ear. “I’ve been so worried about you.”

I stand motionless, phone in my hand, confused.

“What?” I ask, shock overriding my instinct to protect myself. I can’t remember the last time he hugged me.

“I didn’t know where you were. I didn’t know what happened to you.” You beat the shit out of me in a drunken stupor, old man.

I don’t say anything out loud, not willing to test the boundaries of his patience or his… whatever the fuck this is.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “You haven’t been home in weeks.” I didn’t even know he was coherent enough to understand the passing of time.

“I’m fine,” I manage to say as he pulls back from the strange, one-sided hug. He grips my face in his hands, and I flinch without meaning to. Mistake, he hates when I do that. I close my eyes, bracing for the blow, but none comes. I open one eye cautiously, then the other. His eyes, the same shade of brown as mine, are locked onto my face.

“I hurt you, didn’t I?” he asks, his eyes scanning my face like he’s looking for the bruises he left on my skin the last time I saw him.

This feels like a trap. A trap that I will not fall into. I say nothing. I stand there as his thumbs make small circles on my cheekbones where they’re resting. I don’t know what the right answer is. All I know is that I’m not going to risk saying the wrong one.