Page 64 of Be With Me
The night air was cooler than I'd expected, and my skin pebbled with goosebumps. Regret whispered in the back of my head. I should have brought a sweater.
“Mia.”
He sounded tired. And frustrated. His black hair was tousled, like he’d been running his hand through it over and over again. A tumbler with liquor—whiskey, probably—sat half empty on the railing.
My bare feet stepped across the still-wet deck until I stood at his side. “You raided Fabi’s mom’s stash?”
“I doubt she’ll mind.” He pushed the tumbler a few inches toward me. “Want some?”
I shook my head and took a sip of my water. The waves crashed in the distance. It was too dark to see them—the moon was hidden behind the thick clouds—but their song filled the air.
Romolo tapped his fingers against the railing, slowly and rhythmically, the only other sound apart from the ocean. “You told them.”
It was a statement, not a question. Tension marred his jaw as he stared—no,glaredat the water.
That’s when it dawned on me.
He had never actually thought I’d keep his secret. He probably didn’t trust people. Not unless they’d been bribed, forced, or otherwise coerced into doing what he wanted.
And here I was, about to confirm his sad, depressing worldview.
An ache pulsed inside my chest.
If I used this against him, if I turned this into a negotiation to get that photo deleted, I’d be giving him one more reason to believe the world worked exactly the way he thought it did.
I…couldn’t do that to him.
Maybe if I was colder. More ruthless. More driven by logic.
But I wasn’t. My heart was placed firmly on my sleeve, which meant it got hurt. Often.
But I could live with my own pain. It was the pain of others I didn’t know how to handle.
I bit on the inside of my cheek. One day, I’d might regret this. But today wasn’t that day.
“I didn’t,” I said softly. “And I won’t.”
Silence stretched between us. His gaze skimmed my face, suspicion dancing at the edges. “How did you explain what happened? Why we showered as soon as we got home?”
“I said I had a panic attack and forced you to let me out of the car. They know my history. They believed it.”
He frowned. “You lied on my behalf?”
“I don’t feel great about it. I don’t like lying to my friends.”
“And yet you did.”
“I made you a promise.”
Something flickered across his face—doubt, disbelief. Like promises didn’t mean anything to him anymore. Like every promise ever made to him had been broken.
The ache inside me spread until it took up my entire ribcage.
Men weren’t born hardened. They were made that way by someone’s heavy hand until nothing soft remained.
Who was Romolo’s maker?
I placed my hand over his. It was warm. Solid. “I won’t break it.”
