18. Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

Beck

I don’t know what the hell this asshole is playing at, but I’m not a fan. I’m squeezing my phone so hard that my hand is numb, my body primed and ready to knock this motherfucker out.

“I did hurt you. Fuck, Rome, I’m so sorry,” Roman’s dad says, and I grit my teeth so hard they creak at the tone of his voice. It sounds sincere, but I also know how much he’s manipulated Roman in the past.

“I…” Roman’s words cut off and my stomach drops out at the tremble in his voice.

There’s a long pause, and I glance down at my phone to make sure we didn’t get disconnected. Nope. I watch as the seconds tick by on the call, wondering if I should stay back or if I should go up there and get him.

“I want to get help,” his dad says, breaking the silence, and I pause.

I hear Roman draw in a shaky breath. And then, “For your drinking?” His voice is small, sad, in a way I haven’t heard since the first night I brought him home. Just like that, I’m raging again. I want to get him out of this house and away from this manipulative asshole and back in my car, and speed out of this driveway to take him home—where he doesn’t have to listen to this shit.

“Yes, Rome. I want to get help. Go to rehab or something.”

Roman doesn’t speak, but I can hear his shallow breathing over the phone, and I’m tempted, once again, to drive up to the house and get him out of there.

“When I realized you were gone, I tried. It was hard. I couldn’t stop throwing up. I couldn’t stop shaking. I couldn’t stop sweating. I felt like I was dying. I don’t think I can do it on my own. I need help. I’m only drinking enough to take the edge off. I want to stop. I want to be better for you.”

I pause, my anger calming a bit. I can’t quite tell if he’s being genuine. My gut is telling me no, but I’m also hard-wired to want to protect Roman, so maybe my gut isn’t the most reliable thing to trust in this particular situation.

Roman’s breathing is getting more erratic. I can tell his anxiety is rising, and I fear he’s seconds away from a full-blown panic attack. If he has a panic attack, he won’t be able to call for me. That thought sends a panicked jolt through me. Yep, that’ll do it . Decision made, I put the car in drive and fly down the driveway.

Within seconds of throwing the car in park, I’m barreling my way through the door, rage burning, my hand pulled into a fist, ready to lay this fucker out. Roman’s dad is standing in front of him, his hands cradling Roman’s face, but he’s not hurting him. At least not physically. I allow myself to relax the tiniest bit.

Both of their eyes shoot to mine, and Roman steps away from his dad’s touch and runs across the room, throwing himself into my arms. He buries his face in my neck and I can feel his hot tears scalding my skin. “Get me out of here, Beck. Please,” he begs, his voice muffled against my throat. I take one last look at his dad. He’s staring at us, his face filled with confusion and what looks like pain. Good. Fuck him.

I hook my arms under Roman’s thighs and lift him up, his grip on my shoulders tightening. The adrenaline coursing through my body makes him feel weightless, and I turn and stride out of the house. I don’t set him down until I’m standing by the passenger door. Once he’s back on his feet, I help him into the seat, reaching across him to buckle him in, before shutting the door and racing back around to the driver’s side.

Roman is quiet in the passenger seat. He’s staring straight ahead, his eyes dull and unseeing, like he’s here but not really. Fuck me. This is exactly why I didn’t want him to do this. The asshole wasn’t even mean to him, and yet he still managed to get him all messed up.

We pull into the driveway at home, and I usher him inside. The second we’re in our room, he looks up at me, his eyes no longer dull, but hopeful and bright. “Do you… do you think he means it?” he asks quietly.

My initial reaction is to say fuck no, but I can’t. I don’t want to crush his spirit or that tiny spark of hope. “I don’t know,” I say instead.

His shoulders slump, and the hope in his eyes flickers out. “Yeah, he probably doesn’t. But he’s… he’s never actually said he wanted to stop drinking before.”

I sigh and pull him into my arms, unable to handle the distance between us anymore. “We can talk to my dad if you want. See if he knows any resources or any rehabs that we can get him into if he’s serious about getting help.”

After a few seconds of silence, Roman pulls back and looks at me. “Really?” he asks, his voice shaky, the hopeful edge back.

“Yes, really. I’d do anything for you, Roman. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he says, and then buries his face in my throat, his body trembling as he clings to me.

His words light me up inside, and I hold him tighter, nuzzling my face into his hair and inhaling his sweet scent, letting it calm me. “We can talk to my mom too. She may know of some resources with the hospital as well.”

Roman nods against me and exhales roughly.

“I think we need to go do something today,” Roman says as he flops down beside me on the couch. He’s fresh from the shower, and his hair is still wet, hanging around his face and dripping down his cheeks.

“What do you have in mind?”

“Not sure—anything, really. It’s been a crazy couple of weeks and I think we just need to get out and have some fun.”

I don’t disagree at all. It’s been an emotional roller coaster, that’s for sure. “Hmm. We could go to Dave and Busters? It’s about a forty-five-minute drive, but it could be fun,” I suggest.

His eyes light up. “Yes, so yes. Let’s do that.” The pure joy radiating in his gaze makes my heart trip over itself, and I can’t resist leaning in to steal a quick kiss.

“You are so stunning, Roman. You always are, but right now? The joy in your eyes, the happiness you’re radiating?” I pause, laughing as his cheeks darken with a blush. “It’s beautiful to see.”

He gives me a shy, playful smile, biting into his bottom lip. “Thank you.”

I kiss the tip of his nose and stand up. “Okay, date night. Let’s go, beautiful.”

“We’ll talk to your parents later about the rehab thing. For now, I just want to forget I have a fucked up dad and enjoy a date with my boyfriend,” he says, and I nod.

“Okay, we can do that. No dad drama or bad shit. Just me and you, having fun? Sounds like the perfect time to me. Perfect boyfriend. Perfect date.”

His smile is blinding, and I love to see it. It feels like it’s been weeks since I’ve seen him smile like this, and the full force of it being directed at me makes me a little weak.

“Let’s go get ready, and then we can leave,” I say, tugging on his hand to pull him up off the couch. He stumbles forward a little, falling against my chest, and his joyful laugh echoes through the room. I can’t help but join him, his happiness soaking under my skin and bringing my own to the surface.

Once we’re dressed and ready, we walk out the door hand in hand. Like always, I open the car door for him.

“What?” I ask, amused by the soft blush that always stains his cheeks when I do this for him.

“Nothing. You’re always so sweet to me. It’s nice.” This is hardly even sweet—this is common courtesy, but that he feels like this is what kindness is, fucks me up a little.

“I’ll always be sweet to you,” I say, punctuating my words with a kiss to his cheek.

His cheeks turn a fiery red, and he ducks into the car. I lean over to buckle him in, inhaling his scent as I do. I can’t help but laugh at his expression and the slight hitch in his chest.

“Don’t make fun of me,” he mumbles, but he’s smiling.

“I would never. I think it’s adorable how much you blush over me doing things for you, while also loving it so much.”

He shrugs, a grin stretching across his lips.

This was the perfect idea for a date. Roman’s playing his third round of their version of Flappy Bird. I watch with a chuckle as his bird slams into the pillar again and tumbles to the ground.

“Who the hell designed this thing?” he asks, his tone so adorably put-out that I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing out loud.

“Someone who wanted to make you suffer, I suppose,” I say, failing to suppress my laughter.

He turns to me with a glare, but it lacks heat, and I can’t help but laugh harder. “You are so damn adorable. Let’s go find something else to do.”

I take his hand in mine, intertwining our fingers, and lead him across the building to the claw machines. “You know, I was a little disappointed that I didn’t think to win you a prize at the fair,” I say as we reach the row of machines.

He turns to me, his nose scrunching up in a way that is too fucking cute for words. “Really?” he asks, in what sounds like genuine surprise.

“Yes, really. It’s classic first date stuff. You take them to the fair, you share a funnel cake—” His loud laughter interrupts my sentence, and he covers his mouth with his hand, his eyes dancing. I narrow my eyes at him and continue, “You win them a stuffed animal that they can cuddle with and think of you.”

He pulls his hand from his mouth and smiles at me. “I don’t need to cuddle with a stuffed animal when I have you, but if it would make you feel better to win me one, I won’t complain.”

“Hell yes, I want to win one for you,” I say with a smirk, and then turn to the row of machines. Sitting right at the top of one is a cute brown rabbit, the shade of its fur almost the same color as his hair. I definitely have to win that one.

I stick a dollar into the machine, and he leans against the one next to me, watching my every move. I shift back and forth, adjusting the claw in small increments, trying to line it up perfectly, even going so far as to attempt to peek around the side of the machine to make sure it’s lined up properly from every angle. I press the button on the joystick and hold my breath as the claw grips the stuffed rabbit and drops it back down.

Roman bursts out laughing beside me. “All that hard work and for what?”

“I’ll get it,” I assure him, sticking another dollar in the machine and trying again.

Once more, the claw closes around the rabbit, and it falls right back down.

Roman chuckles. “I think I know what the problem is.”

I turn to glance at him. “Yeah?”

He nods solemnly. “I think you’re holding your tongue the wrong way.” He winks at me as he sticks his tongue out, holding it off to the side.

I roll my eyes. “Smartass. You’re gonna eat those words.”

He grins at me. “By all means, make me eat those words.”

It takes me twenty-five dollars and ten minutes of Roman’s laughter to finally get the damn thing to drop into the prize chute. I reach down and grab it before handing it to him with a flourish. He holds it to his chest and smiles. “Thank you for my expensive rabbit,” he says, unable to stop himself from chuckling. I don’t care, though. He can laugh at my expense all he wants to, as long as it keeps that smile on his lips.

“I actually had one like this as a kid,” he says, a wistful expression on his face. “I’m not sure what happened to it, though. I like this one. Thank you.”

I lean forward, brushing a kiss to his temple. “I’m glad I was able to win it,” I say with a grin. It was my last dollar bill too, so it really couldn’t have happened at a better time.