Roman’s back.
Hunter called me as soon as he turned up at school yesterday begging Coach to let him play in tonight’s game. I need to be there; I need to see him. Not that I’m having any luck while I’m a prisoner in my own home. He won’t take my calls—it just goes to voicemail. Hell, he’s barely speaking to Hunter.
Not being able to see him causes this prickling under my skin, a warning my heart and head are listening to. But there’s nothing I can do about it. Even though Hunter said he looked better, I need to see Roman with my own eyes. I won’t be able to shake this tight feeling from my chest until I do. The need to see that he’s okay is driving me hard.
Coach didn’t want him playing in tonight’s game. Roman hasn’t been at school for almost two weeks, has missed a bunch of schoolwork—not that it seemed to make a difference before—but the excuse of being hit by a car and that he proved he was fit enough to play seemed to be enough to win the coach over.
Last week’s shocking loss probably helped push Coach in his decision. Especially with Hunter playing tonight as well. He has his best team on the field tonight, so he must be feeling generous enough to overlook the fact Roman was MIA for almost two weeks.
I know Roman feels responsible for my accident. That’s what I’m calling it—my accident. I’m worried Roman is also staying away from me because he thinks I told the cops what really happened. He has to know who hit me; hell, he was hit too…just differently, by the same people, I suspect.
But tell the cops? I would never. It would bring them to Roman’s door, and he doesn’t need that with the illegal fighting and everything else in his life I don’t know about. Whatever Roman is hiding from me and Hunter, the cops would find it.
I haven’t spoken to anyone about what really happened. Hunter hasn’t directly asked me, but considering the way he talks about that day, I presume he knows there’s more to the story. Little things he’s said gave it away. Still, the only people who know the full truth are Roman, me, and the two assholes in the car.
“Kate, can’t you drive me to the Rebels game? Madison can stay with me, and it will be our little secret,” I beg her at the dinner table, my hands clasped together in a pleading gesture.
She eyes the cast on my right wrist. It’s covered in drawings—hearts, butterflies, and dicks—that Madison, Hunter, and Asher have done. There’s nothing like boys finding empty real estate on my cast and scribbling dumb shit on there. I’ve had to cover two more dicks with hearts. I’m not the best at drawing with my left hand, so it looks a mess.
I’m downstairs tonight and eating at the dinner table. Thankfully, I’ve improved enough that I can walk around the house without needing someone with me. I’m sore, and things hurt that I didn’t know could from just lying around. But I can’t stay up in my bedroom forever.
“Mila, no.” Kate shakes her head with a smile. “I’m so excited to see you down here tonight and looking so much better. But I love your father, so please don’t use those big blue eyes to ask me to go against his wishes.”
I bat my lashes at her, and Madison giggles beside me and joins in. Kate groans and chuckles. “You’re both hard to say no to. But no means no.”
I let out a long, very audible sigh, and she shakes her head with a grin. At least I don’t seem to be getting on her nerves, despite my sulky mood. I’ve only asked her like ten times to go since she turned up here to feed me an early dinner before going off to watch Asher at a home game. Madison is staying with me overnight. Girls’ night.
“We tried. You want to watch a movie now or later?” Madison asks as I twirl the pasta on my fork, using my left hand, and try to shovel it into my mouth without it all falling off. It’s weird to use my left hand. But there are lefties out there, like Roman, who use them every day and make it look easy. It’s not.
I switch the fork to my right hand, and the way the cast and my thumb are, it makes me look like I’m still shoveling. Kate makes a tsk sound. She’s worried I’ll get the creamy pasta sauce under my cast and it will smell. She has a point. I had some M&M’s the other night, and one lodged itself just where my palm is, under my cast.
It turns out that, yes, they eventually do melt. And the white edge of my cast now has a brown and blue stain that kind of looks like I wiped my ass with my cast. Okay, so I didn’t think that at the time. Asher saw it and asked if I wiped my ass with it. And now that’s all I see when I look down at it.
Switching my fork back into my left hand, I put my right arm under the table so I won’t be tempted to use it for food.
“I want to watch the game first, if that’s okay? We can chill on my bed and watch a movie after I watch the Rebels kick ass. And maybe watch Hunter’s and the guys’ tight…ends?” I wink over at Madison.
Madison’s cheeks grow red as she giggles, and Kate snorts and chuckles a little, then coughs, trying to hide it.
“Is Hunter your boyfriend now?” Madison asks, and it makes me blush a little.
I shrug and grin widely as she giggles. We never said it exactly like that, but I guess he is.
“Oh my god. He’s so cute, Mila,” she practically screams from beside me, and I move a few inches away to protect my ears. But I can’t wipe the grin from my face because, yeah. He’s cute. More than cute.
“He’s a real gentleman, that one, Mila.” Kate winks at me.
I smirk. He can be a gentleman…some of the time.
I set my laptop up just in time for the start of the Rebels game. As I lie down on my left side, Madison comes bearing every type of snack she could find downstairs and some sodas for us each.
“What number is he?” she asks as we both stare at the little red blobs on the screen. I wish I had a huge TV in my room so I could see them all on the big screen.
“Hunter is thirty-three and Roman is eighty-seven.”
“Is he okay?” she asks, and the concern in her voice has me turning to her.
“Hunter?”
She shakes her head. “No, Roman. After the car accident? Like, you’re here and have a broken wrist and ribs. He’s playing football. Did he not get hit as hard?”
Fuck, I hate having to lie about the accident. But I will take the truth to my grave. This time, I really will. I’d told myself I would take the first kisses to my grave, and I told Roman the truth—that he was my first kiss. But, at the time I thought I was dying, and I needed him to know that I wanted him to be my first and my last. I never lied about that, and I knew he wouldn’t tell the others. He would take that secret to the grave with him. Just as I will take this one we share as well.
“I was thrown into the air. He tried to save me.”
That’s exactly what I told the cops, and I won’t stray at all from the story. It’s close enough to the truth, and it won’t change. Everyone will get the same version. That I don’t remember anything else, only the sound of the car’s brakes, flying in the air, and Roman holding me.
“Oh my god, he tried to save you?” Madison’s voice gets higher, and I hear the emotion in her voice. Her mouth opens wide, and there are tears in her eyes.
My throat grows thick. “He did. He held me…he kissed me right before everything went dark, and I woke up in the hospital days later.”
Her hand flew to her mouth. “He kissed you? Oh my god, Mila. That’s so much better than any romantic movie or book. He’s your knight, and now your boyfriend is his best friend? Roman is just as cute, if not a little scary…a lot scary. But he kissed you? Why didn’t you ask him to be your boyfriend?”
I look down at the screen and see Hunter. He’s standing beside Roman on the field. There’s a smile on Hunter’s face as he pats Roman’s back. I can’t see Roman’s face, his hair is hanging in the way and I itch to get my hands on it and braid it.
My big Viking. I wish that he’d come to see me. I would have helped him with it. Even if he didn’t want to talk, I would’ve sat here without saying a word and done his hair for him. Just to be in the same space as him…to touch him.
“I’m going to,” I reply as my heart aches to reach through the laptop, grab Roman, and hug him. Tell him that I’m here, waiting for him.
“But you’re with Hunter now.” She gives me a confused look. “Are you going to break up with him already?”
Shaking my head, I smile over at her. I wiggle my brows, and her mouth pops open, a piece of popcorn falling out onto her lap. I laugh.
“Like, both of them at the same time? Can you do that?” Her brows raise high, and the look on her face almost has me laughing, but I hold it in to save my ribs the pain.
“Yes, as long as everyone is consenting and agrees. Hell, I have no idea how this could work, but Hunter is open to the idea. Roman…I need to talk to him first.”
The game starts and she doesn’t ask any more questions. I hold my breath as I watch, my heart in my throat as I hope that Roman doesn’t get injured. Hunter too, but he wasn’t just almost beat to death two weeks ago.
“Next time, we need to watch at my house so we can see all their tight butts on the big TV in the living room.”
I laugh at Madison as she stares very closely at my laptop, trying to catch a glimpse of the players’ asses.
“Next time, we will see them in person,” I promise.
We watch the whole game. The Rebels are so close. We just need a touchdown, and we will win the game. It’s been close, which I think surprises most people. The West Oakley Warriors are nowhere as skilled as the Rebels. But I have a feeling that Roman is more injured than he let the coach know. He fumbled the ball earlier in the game, and the Warriors picked it up and scored a touchdown. But then he got us a touchdown.
“Come on, Roman,” I whisper under my breath as he runs down the field. He has this.
I notice Asshole—oops, I mean Jace—watching Roman. Damn him for being a good quarterback. Hunter is running down the field too, and I hold my breath to see which one Jace picks. He has favored Roman most plays tonight. Not that I’m surprised. Jace still hasn’t spoken to Hunter, but I bet after he finds out we are together, he will have something to say about that.
Roman’s wide open and has a clear run to the end zone, same as Hunter. Holy shit, this is intense. They both have players gaining on them as Jace throws the ball.
I scream as Roman reaches out to catch the ball. He’s only a yard from a touchdown, and I know it’s in the bag. I scream out in celebration, my ribs protesting. Roman’s got it…until he doesn’t. He catches the ball, then it just slips from his fingers and bounces off the green grass.
And that’s it. The end of the game and the Rebels lost.
I sit there and stare at the screen. There’s no way Roman would have missed that catch under normal circumstances. He could do that with his eyes closed. He must be more injured than anyone thought; he shouldn’t have been allowed to play at all. He needs medical attention, not a helmet and gloves. I’ve been worried all day about this, remembering that feeling in my chest. Roman needed someone to tell him to sit this one out. He’d needed me.
The Warriors are all cheering and celebrating, and the Rebels walk away looking so defeated. A few of the guys are tapping Roman on the shoulder. They must be telling him it’s not his fault they lost. Because they, like me, know he’s blaming himself for missing that catch.
“I’m sorry, Mila. That’s got to be hard on Roman. I know because Asher is the same when he misses. He shouldn’t have been allowed to play right after the accident. It’s obvious he’s injured. He must have broken fingers or something.”
I nod. He might have, but he’s played with broken fingers before. Hunter told me that Roman plays with broken fingers and ribs all the time. That it’s normal for him to have something broken and ignore it. So, whatever this is, it’s much worse, and my stomach won’t settle at the thought.
When they replay the catch on the screen, they slow it down. I look closely for his injury. But the way his fingers curl around the leather…His eyes, they look down at his hands, like he’s just caught a live grenade. It only happens for a split second. His right hand releases the ball just before he can grip it tight, fumbling it, then it drops to the ground and bounces.
The look on his face isn’t one I’ve seen before. He looks at that ball like it wants to kill him, and he can’t get away fast enough. It’s a strange reaction to have.
I’m not sure anyone else sees what I do; Madison hasn’t said anything, but then she doesn’t fully get football. And no one gets Roman like I do. Why would he drop that ball when he clearly had it?
Oh god. No…
I freeze, feeling like someone is pressing on my chest and I can’t breathe.
Roman lost the game…on purpose.
