40. Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty

Beck

I open the door, wondering where the fuck the fire is, when a pale, shaking Roman falls through the doorway. I manage to catch him before he hits the ground. The second his bleary, dazed eyes meet mine, his mouth drops open, an agonized scream tearing from his throat.

I start to ask him what happened, but before I can get a word out, he turns his head and pukes—all over himself, the floor, and me. My eyes widen in shock. What in the actual fuck is going on? “Beautiful? Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

He starts murmuring, and it takes me a second to figure out what he’s saying. When I do, my blood runs cold. “He killed her. He killed her. He killed her.”

“Who, Roman? What are you talking about?”

He doesn’t answer, just keeps murmuring under his breath. I have no idea what to do. Panic is threatening to swallow me whole, but I shove it down. I need to stay calm, otherwise I have no hope of getting him to calm down. “Roman, look at me.” His eyes shoot to mine, his mumbling stopping. “I don’t know what’s happening. I need you to explain.”

He shakes his head violently. “Okay, shh. It’s okay. You’re alright,” I whisper, rubbing his back. My mind is racing. I have no idea what’s going on or how to fix it. “Do you want me to call Holden for you?” The words make me feel like shit, but I’ll do whatever he needs. And if what he needs is Holden? So be it.

“No!” he shouts. “I want you. Only you. Please. No. Just you.” He chokes on a breath, and tears start pouring down his face. I feel so out of my element. I don’t know how to fix this. Fuck, I don’t even know what this is.

“Okay, beautiful,” I whisper, hoping that my voice is soothing to him. “Can you please tell me what’s going on? I don’t understand. Who killed her? Who’s ‘her?’”

“Please don’t make me. Please. Please don’t make me say it, Beck,” he sobs, his whole body shaking as his breaths come in choppy bursts.

Fuck, I’m making it worse.

I shush him. “You’re okay. You don’t have to say it. Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”

He looks down, seemingly confused, his eyes taking in the mess we’re currently covered in. “Oh God. I’m sorry,” he cries, his voice cracking.

“It’s okay. Can you stand?”

He nods, but he’s shaky. He’s not as small as he was when we were young, but I’m pretty convinced I can still carry him. I am a little worried that picking him up will make him throw up again, but if he does, oh well—I’ve seen worse. I loop my arms under him and stand. He’s heavy, but I make it to my feet, stumbling only a bit before I’m able to steady myself. I carry him to my bathroom and sit him down on the closed toilet lid.

“Roman?” I ask. He’s staring blankly at the wall, his eyes completely devoid of emotion. A chill runs through me. I’ve never once seen him like this. This… empty . I try again. “Roman? Look at me.” His eyes find mine. “Are you going to get sick again?” He doesn’t respond. I slip my soiled sweats down my hips and kick them off, tossing them to the side.

“Arms up, beautiful,” I say, hoping he’ll listen. He raises his arms, but gives no other indication that he’s present. I carefully lift his shirt over his head, scanning his body for injuries—just in case. Nothing. Small mercies, I guess. “Can you stand for me? Let’s take your pants off.” He nods and slowly stands, his legs wobbly. I realize belatedly that he’s not wearing shoes. Did he drive here barefoot?

I slip his pants off, tossing them over to join the rest of the clothes, and sit him back down on the toilet. I wince, knowing how cold the seat must be, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

I wipe my stomach off with a hand towel, then toss it on the pile. Turning to fill the tub, I keep a close eye on Roman. I pull down some lavender bath oil Riley left here the last time she stayed over, and pour some into the water. When it’s almost full, I crouch in front of Roman. “Hey, beautiful,” I say softly, careful not to startle him. His dull brown eyes latch onto mine. “Wanna climb in the tub with me?”

He nods, so I reach down, taking his hands in mine to help him stand. After getting him settled, I turn the water off. Then I grab a new toothbrush from under the sink, along with some mouthwash and a disposable cup. I wet the toothbrush, cover it in toothpaste, and hold it out to him.

He doesn’t even blink.

I gently touch his chin, turning his face to mine. “Open up for me.”

He opens his mouth obediently, and I do my best to brush his teeth. Then I hold the cup out so he can spit. I help him get a capful of mouthwash and hold the cup back out for him when he’s ready to spit.

I toss the cup in the trash and grab a fresh one, before climbing in behind him and pulling him back against my chest. His skin feels clammy. Fuck, I hope the bath was the right idea.

He smells like sweat and vomit, so I tilt his head back and use the cup to wet his hair. He doesn’t react beyond letting me move his body, and the lack of response has me on the verge of panicking again. But my rational mind is hanging on just enough to know that I have to get him calm and clean first, and then I can focus on figuring out what happened.

I hum softly as I pump some shampoo into my hand and work it into his hair. After his hair is clean, I reach over for a washcloth, then lather it up and gently scrub his skin, silently begging for some kind of reaction. It’s not until I’m rinsing his shoulders that I finally get one.

He seems to come back to himself all at once, a gasp ripping from his chest, followed by heart-wrenching sobs.

“He killed my mom, Beck. My dad. He killed my mom. He said it was an accident. He said she was hitting him, and he pushed her away. He said she fell and there was blood. Oh God, Beck. Do you think he really did it? Do you think he killed her?”

Holy shit. The implications of that alone… He doesn’t wait for my response, his words spilling out in a rush. “He said your dad would have found out. What does that even mean? My mom wasn’t abusive, right? She wouldn’t have done something like that?”

My mind races as things begin to slot into place—the way Richard tried to dissuade Roman from being with me, the look in his eyes when I hit him the day Roman left, the drinking. Oh shit. What if he was drinking out of guilt?

Roman turns abruptly, sending water sloshing over the edges of the tub. He buries his face in the crook of my neck, his body trembling with sobs. I don’t know what to do, but I know who will. I need to talk to my dad.

“Come on, beautiful. Let’s get you out of here. I need to talk to Dad.”

He clings to me, shaking so hard his teeth are chattering. “Please don’t leave me.”

“Shhh, you’re okay. I’m not leaving you,” I whisper. If Richard is telling the truth, it’s already been twenty years. What’s waiting another couple of hours to talk to Dad going to hurt?

I help him stand and step out of the tub, drying first him and then myself. I lead him into my room. He’s shivering, but I’m not sure if it’s from the cold or his nerves. I pull out a soft sweatshirt and slip it over his head, then grab a pair of sweats. Kneeling in front of him, I help him step into the pants, the moment transporting me back in time to the last time I dressed him like this. Tears burn my eyes. This night is so fucked.

I direct him to the bed, and he sits down while I quickly get dressed. After grabbing my phone and slipping it into my pocket, I remember the mess waiting in the living room. Thank God for hardwood floors.

Grabbing his hand, I pull him toward the living room with me. After I get him settled on the couch with a kiss to his forehead, I head to the kitchen. My mind races as I fill up a bucket, and go back to the living room to clean the floor. Fuck, I really need to call Holden. He’ll be pissed if I don’t let him know about this. I know Roman told me not to call him, but we’ve been taking baby steps toward friendship. Truthfully, the hang-ups are all mine. Holden’s a ray of sunshine, and even when I ripped his ass the first time I saw Roman again, he wasn’t mean—just firm about his boundaries—which I can begrudgingly respect.

Once the floor is clean and disinfected, I wash my hands and head back to the living room. Roman hasn’t moved, but his eyes track my every move. He doesn’t look empty anymore—just sad.

I sit down beside him on the couch, ignoring the urge to ask if he’s okay. Of course he’s not. I get comfortable in the corner of the couch, spreading my legs to make room for him. His eyes haven’t left me, so as soon as I’m settled, he crawls across the couch and collapses onto me—his head resting on my chest, his arms tucked against my sides. When we were kids, I fell for him so quickly. Everything about him drew me in, and now he’s here. He came to me when he needed me. For tonight at least, I’m his safe space. And what a fucking place of privilege. For the first time since he got back, all my fears seem silly.

“Hey, Roman,” I whisper, and he lifts his head just enough to look at me. “I love you. I’m sorry I didn’t say it before, and this is like the worst time ever to be saying it. But I really fucking love you. Thank you for coming back to me.”

Tears well in his eyes, but unlike before, they don’t look sad. “I love you too. I’ll never leave again.”

I nod, and after a few moments of staring at each other, he rests his head back against my chest with a shaky exhalation.

I trace a path up his spine with my fingertips, then slide my fingers into his damp hair, running them lightly through the strands. His body is still tense, but the weight of everything seems to catch up with him, and he drifts off to sleep. He’s restless. But asleep.

I adjust carefully until I can get my phone from my pocket. I haven’t seen Roman’s phone, and I don’t have Holden’s number, so I dial the hospital and input the extension for the ER. When someone answers, I ask, “Can I please speak with Holden…” My voice trails off as I realize I don’t even know his last name. Thankfully, they know who I’m talking about, and within a few minutes, his voice comes over the line.

“This is Holden Nash.”

Nash . “Holden, it’s Beck.”

“What’s wrong?” he asks, concern immediately dripping from his voice.

“I need you to come to my house. I’ll tell you everything when you get here.” I don’t want to say anything over the phone. “Roman’s okay. He’s asleep in my lap, but… please get here as soon as you can.” My voice cracks a little, my throat tightening. This night has been a clusterfuck, and if I’m being honest with myself, it will be nice to have Holden’s help. He’s solid and dependable. With a rush of clarity, I see what Roman sees when he chooses to lean on him.

“I’ll be there in less than twenty. What’s your address?”

I rattle it off to him and hang up with a warning to be careful.

Roman’s body jerks, a whimper rising in his throat. I shush him, wrapping my arm around his back and making small circles on his scalp with my fingertips. I hold him, trying not to break down, focusing on the sound of his breathing and the warmth of his body instead of the chaos trying to overtake my mind. When there’s a soft knock on the door, I open my mouth to say “come in,” but before I can, a very worried, very tired-looking Holden walks into the house.

His eyes scan the space for a second before they settle on Roman and me. “Is he dead?”

That would be the logical explanation, but no. I shake my head. “Worse, I’m afraid. Come sit down. Please make yourself at home.”

He comes fully into the room, kicking his shoes off by the door, and sits on the opposite end of the couch. His hand finds the back of Roman’s leg, and where before I would have felt jealousy, I now only feel relief. Relief that I have someone to help me carry this weight. Relief that there’s someone in this world who loves Roman as much as I do.

I inhale a shuddering breath, tears springing to my eyes. “Fuck.” I try to fight the tears, but I fail. I squeeze my eyes closed as the first one rolls down my cheek.

Holden’s soft voice fills my ears, his hand landing on mine where it’s resting on Roman’s back. “It’s going to be okay. I’m here.” God, he’s too fucking pure, and I’m such an asshole.

“I’m sorry,” I breathe.

“No, don’t apologize. Ro would have your ass if he heard you apologizing for showing emotions.”

Something about the way he says it makes me chuckle, even though nothing about this is funny. I open my eyes and look at him. “Richard killed Roman’s mom.”

He stares at me for a second, confusion spreading across his features. “But…” he starts, then trails off. “Explain.”

So I do. I tell him how Roman showed up here, how out of it he was. I tell him what Roman told me. By the time I’m done, Holden is choking back tears of his own. “Do you think he’s telling the truth? About her abusing him? About it being an accident?”

I shrug. “I don’t really know, honestly. But it kinda makes sense.” He cocks his head at me, so I continue. “When Roman first left, I went to Richard’s. Roman was already gone, but there was… blood. A lot of it. I kinda lost my shit. I punched him, more than once. He shut down, Holden. He got the same look in his eyes that Roman would get in his.”

He grimaces. “I’m familiar. Like they’re blocking everything out. Disassociating. A trauma response.”

“Exactly.”

“Beck, if this is true…” He doesn’t need to finish the sentence. I already know.

“I need to talk to my dad. He’s a cop. I’m so out of my element. I don’t know what to do.” Emotion rushes in again. A sob rises in my chest, and I just barely manage to shove it down before it escapes. I need to get myself together. “I don’t know how to help him. I wanted to call you right away, but he wouldn’t let me.”

“Why would you call me right away? I mean, I’m glad you did when things settled down. But he needed you.”

“I didn’t know what to do,” I whisper, ashamed. It’s no wonder Roman leans on Holden when his other option is an idiot who doesn’t know what he’s doing. God, I failed him. I should have called Holden from the start.

“Beck, look at him.” Holden says, interrupting my shame spiral. I glance down at the sleeping man in my arms. “He’s fine.”

I raise an eyebrow at Holden, but he rolls his eyes. “Okay, so maybe he’s not fine , but give yourself a little credit. You cleaned him up, you waited him out, and you didn’t push him. He just heard really traumatic information, and he’s sound asleep in your arms. Do you even realize how light of a sleeper he is? And yet, he didn’t hear me come in. He hasn’t stirred once since I’ve been here. And we’ve been talking the entire time. He feels safe, Beck. Because of you.”

I shake my head. That’s not true at all.

“Yes. Don’t shake your head at me. He’s safe with you and he knows it. He trusts you. You need to trust yourself .”

I close my eyes against the wave of emotion threatening to swallow me whole. “I don’t know if I can,” I whisper, fear tightening my throat.

He gives my hand a gentle squeeze before releasing me and sitting back. “You’ll get there.” I sure fucking hope so. I open my eyes and stare down at Roman, watching as the brown strands of his hair slip through my fingers.

We sit in silence for a while, but Holden’s voice eventually breaks it. “You know, his car was running when I got here, the door hanging wide open. He didn’t even shut it off. Just ran straight to you. Because he knew that you could help him. In one of the hardest moments of his life, he knew he had to get to you.”

“How are you so confident about that?”

“Because I know him.”

His words feel like a bucket of cold water being poured over my head. “I don’t, not like you.”

“You’re wrong.” He must see something in my face because his tone sharpens. “I’m not going to argue about it, and I’m not going to sit here and let you put yourself down. Are there things you don’t know? Sure. But at your core? Deep down? You know him, Beck. He knows you too. That’s why he’s here. He knew he could trust you.” He pauses, and the ghost of a smile touches his lips. “And look at you—proving him right.”

I take a deep breath, shooting him an incredulous glare. He smirks. “It’d be a lot easier for you if you just agree. I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m pretty stubborn. I’m also pretty used to getting my way.”

His words make a startled laugh rise in my chest. The motion makes Roman stir, his fingers flexing at my sides as he grips my shirt. I look down at him, affection and so much love flooding my veins, I can barely breathe.

“He saved my life, you know,” Holden says softly. “I don’t know how much he’s told you about how we met.”

“Only that you were homeless. He mentioned he couldn’t tell too much without violating your privacy.”

He huffs a laugh. “Sweet man. He could have told you. I wouldn’t have minded. I was fourteen when my parents kicked me out. I sold my body for food, clothes… anything I needed, really.”

His words stop my heart. I did not expect that. An image of a smaller, fourteen-year-old Holden, being forced to give away something so special in order to eat flashes in my mind, making my breath catch as my heart aches. It makes more sense now. Why Roman didn’t want to leave him. Why he fought so hard for him. He really does have a soul full of goodness.

“He was the first person in a long time who treated me like a human being.” There’s a smile in his voice, and I look up at him to find him gazing fondly at Roman. “It was raining the night he got me off the streets. Fuck, I was so bitter. I yelled at him. Did he tell you that?”

He pauses and looks at me, so I nod.

“But he didn’t let it stop him,” he continues, gaze returning to Roman’s sleeping form. “I climbed in that car with him soaking wet, frozen to the core, scared out of my fucking mind, even though I put up a tough front. He didn’t have much—a duffle bag in the back seat with some clothes. But he handed me something to wear. They were huge on me, but they were dry and warm. It felt like heaven. And my fucked-up brain thought, ‘Gotta pay for this somehow, Hold.’ So I leaned across the console and started unbuttoning his pants.”

Roman accepting sexual favors doesn’t seem like him at all.

He chuckles, but it’s sad. “He shoved me off him so fast. He was the first person who was nice to me, with no expectations. It took a really long time for me to trust him fully. Years, honestly. Every time he did something nice, I held my breath, waiting to see if he was going to bend me over or tell me to get on my knees. He never did. He just… took care of me.”

Tears blur my vision. No one should have to go through that. No one. Fuck, I had Holden all wrong. I had their entire relationship all wrong. “I’m sorry,” I choke out. “I’m sorry I was so shitty to you.”

Holden shakes his head. “Nah, you don’t need to apologize. But I want you to know you have nothing to worry about. He’s talked about you for years. I feel like I knew you before I even met you. And then when I did meet you, I had no idea who you were,” he adds with a little snort. “If I had, I would have had his ass at the hospital seconds after we met—if only to stop the constant whining about Beck.”

He winks at me, and something in my soul relaxes.

“There’s never been anyone else in the world for him but you. I tried to set him up with someone once—a nice guy I worked with. He came home bawling and begged me to never do it again.”

I sit quietly for a minute, letting those words soak in. “Thank you for coming tonight. I appreciate all the things you’re saying, but he still needs you too. I’m glad you showed up.”

Holden nods. “He’s my family. My only family, for now at least,” he adds with a pointed look in my direction.

Does he want me to be his family, too? Something about that warms my chest. Thoughts of Roman and I hosting dinners, with Holden and Riley coming and all of us making memories together, fill my head. Actually, scratch that—Holden and Riley together sounds like a fucking awful idea. The two of them would cause all sorts of mayhem.

“I want us to be friends,” I blurt out.

Holden giggles, and for once, the sound doesn’t make me nauseous. “We already are. At least in my head. I was waiting for your grumpy ass to catch up, that’s all.”

I sigh in relief, glancing toward the window and noticing the sun is beginning to rise. Fuck, I didn’t even realize how long Holden and I had been sitting here talking. “Can I leave him here with you? I need to go see my dad. Find out what we need to do.”

“Of course. Whatever you need.”

“Hey, Roman,” I whisper, gently pushing on Roman’s back until his eyes pop open, and he looks at me, half-asleep and confused, before his eyes flutter closed again. “Can you open your eyes for me, beautiful?”

He nods, yawning as he turns his head, resting his chin on my chest and staring up at me. My heart squeezes. God, he’s so beautiful. “I need to go talk to my dad. But Holden is here, okay? You’re going to stay with him, and I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Holden’s here?” he asks, his voice rough, no doubt from the throwing up and crying.

“Yeah, I called him after you fell asleep. He’s been here most of the night. He’s going to stay with you while I talk to Dad.” He nods, but makes no effort to move, other than to settle his head back on my chest.

Holden giggles from his end of the couch. “He’s never like this in the mornings.”

I sit up carefully, adjusting Roman in my arms so I can pass him off to Holden. Holden notices what I’m doing and pats his thigh. “I’m not as big as you are. If he lies on me like that, I’m liable to stop breathing.”

His words make me laugh. Roman groans but doesn’t resist when I shift him until his head is resting on Holden’s lap. Holden gently brushes a lock of hair off his forehead and rests his hand on Roman’s chest.

I stand, and Roman’s eyes pop open, looking up at me in confusion. I drop to my knees in front of them. “I’ll be back, beautiful. You’ll be safe with Holden until I am. I love you,” I whisper, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to his forehead. If Holden finds it strange that I’m kissing my half-asleep boyfriend goodbye while he’s lying in his lap, he doesn’t mention it.

“Hey, let me get your phone number,” Holden says, then he looks around and slumps backward. “Fuck, my phone’s under his head. Actually, I’ll give you mine. Send me a text, so I have yours.”

I pull my phone from my pocket, and quickly text him my name after he rattles off his number to me.

With one last kiss to Roman’s forehead, I stand and head toward the door, glancing back at them one more time before leaving. I hate that I have to go, but my soul’s at peace, knowing that Roman will be safe and taken care of while I’m gone.