Opposites attract. Very cute. Very meant to be.
A tear escapes the confines of my will, trickling over my eyelashes and landing on my cheek.
Stupid.
What did I expect? That she’d live with me forever? BemyRuby, forever? I’ve been actively rooting for her to accept Will’s love—for her to love him back. And now that she does, I’m crying over it?
Selfish.
Will deserves her. She deserves him. I can’t think of anyone better for the two of them than each other. I can’t think of anyone better, period. Being sad because they’re experiencing love? Whatisthat?
Is it because I don’t have what they have? Because the closest I have is something undefined, unclear, and unsure? Will spent years of his life in the undefined, unclear, and unsure. I’ve barely done a few months time. Begrudging him his love when he grew up with so little of it is just…bitter.
So I do the only thing I can think of to chase it away—I find something sweet.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Oop, let me just close that door real quick…
Elodie
A knock on my bedroom door pulls me from my post-shower hair routine haze. A glance out my window tells me it’s late—dark already—and I squeal, running to the door and throwing it open. “Ru-oman?” I ask, peeking around him. “Isn’t Ruby here?”
“She went to bed,” he says, his voice low and rough. “Said she’s tired.”
My eyes shoot to his, startled at his tone, then more startled at the tear tracks running down his face. “Salty?” I ask, cautious. “What’s wrong?”
He takes a shuddering breath, opens his mouth, then… an awful whine escapes him, the likes of which I never want to hear come out of him again. It’s awful, tearing out of him like his soul itself is cracking. Big, strong protector Roman should not ever make that sound.
I don’t think. I grab, pulling him into my room by his Marathon for Blind Children T-shirt and tugging him to my bed. He lets me, then drags me with him as he falls into the comfort of my puffy quilt and rolls, gripping my blanket until we’re folded into it like caterpillars ready for transformation, legs tangling as his arms tuck me close to him.
“Roman?” I whisper, concern lighting an unpleasant fire in my belly. “Honey, are you okay?”
“Not really,” he croaks. He presses his face into my neck, scratching my throat with his stubble and warming my skinwith every ragged breath he takes. “My baby sister is getting married.”
Ahhh.
Getting married and leaving him behind.
It’s so close to my situation with Sol, and my heart aches that Roman is feeling anything like what I felt at my brother’s leaving.
“She still loves you,” I murmur, running a hand over his hair. He’s let it grow out longer than usual, and it’s softer than I expect. “So does he. They’re still here for you. They still want you.” I go on, saying all of the things I needed to hear about Sol, feeding the lessons I’ve been learning into him, so that we can learn them together. “You will always be her brother. His brother. They will always need you in their lives. They will always love you.”
He whimpers, closing nonexistent space between us, pressing into me and over me until I can’t breathe—until I have to poke at him for air.
“Sorry,” he exhales, giving me just enough space to feed my lungs. “I wasn’t… I wasn’t like this the first time.”
I run my hands over his hair again, adding my nails until he shivers, groans. “It’s okay. Sometimes we don’t know what we’re feeling because we’re feeling too many things. We’re happy for them as much as we are sad for ourselves, and if you’re the type of man who is always thinking about other people first, then it makes sense that you’d let the happy lead you and ignore the sad.” My hands move to his neck, and I lay my head against his. “I let the sad lead me when Sol left. It hurt a lot. It felt like… like I wasn’t…”
“Enough,” he finishes for me. “Like we aren’t enough. Even though we want more for them. Even though we know they deserve more than we could ever possibly give them.”
“Yeah,” I agree softly. “Even though.”
Roman’s only reply is to burrow deeper against me, turning us onto our sides so I can breathe while he tries to dig himself under my skin.
We lie like that for a long time, long enough that one of my arms goes numb and his breathing evens out and, if it weren’t for how tight he still holds me, I’d wonder if he’s fallen asleep.
“I’m sorry,” he says, finally. “I didn’t think. I was upset and just… wanted you. I’ve probably messed up your hair right before the wedding.” He groans. “Yourhair, Sweet.”
