Chapter 2
1281 Words
Roman didn’t let go of my hand.
Not once.
Not when we stepped outside.
Not when the cool night air hit my face and made the tears feel colder, sharper.
Not when he opened the passenger door for me like it was automatic—like he’d done it a thousand times.
Like I mattered.
“Get in,” he said quietly.
I didn’t argue.
Didn’t think I had it in me to argue with him even if I wanted to—which I didn’t.
Because right now, Roman felt like the only solid thing in a night that had completely fallen apart.
I slid into his truck and leaned my head back against the seat, staring at the ceiling while I tried to steady my breathing.
He shut my door, walked around the front of the truck, and got in.
Still silent.
Still tense.
I could feel it coming off him in waves.
“What happened?” he asked finally, pulling out of the parking lot.
Simple question.
Way harder answer.
I let out a shaky breath, staring out the window at the blur of streetlights passing by.
“I went to his house,” I said quietly. “I didn’t tell him I was coming.”
Roman’s jaw tightened just slightly.
“I figured that part out,” he muttered.
I swallowed.
“He wasn’t alone.”
Silence filled the truck.
Heavy.
Pressurized.
“You mean—”
“Yes.”
The word came out sharper than I expected.
More final.
Like I was trying to cut the memory off before it could replay in my head again.
Roman’s hands tightened around the steering wheel.
His knuckles turned white.
“What did he say?” he asked.
“Nothing,” I said, my voice hollow. “I didn’t stay long enough to listen.”
That earned me a glance.
Quick.
Assessing.
“Good,” he said.
Something about the way he said it made my stomach flip—not soft, not comforting.
Dangerous.
Like he meant it.
We drove in silence for a few minutes.
Not awkward silence.
Not the kind where you scramble for something to say.
This was the kind where everything that mattered was already sitting between us.
Unsaid.
Then—
“Stay here,” Roman said suddenly, pulling the truck to a stop.
I looked up, confused, and realized where we were.
My ex’s house.
My chest tightened instantly.
“No—Roman,” I said, my heart picking up again. “You don’t have to—”
“I know.”
Same answer as before.
Same tone.
But this time, it wasn’t calm.
It was controlled anger.
“I’ll be right back.”
My stomach dropped.
“Roman—don’t—”
But he was already out of the truck.
I should’ve stayed in the car.
That would’ve been the smart thing.
The safe thing.
But I’d never really been good at those.
So I opened the door slowly and slipped out, staying back near the driveway but close enough to see.
Close enough to hear.
Roman didn’t knock.
He just walked straight up to the front door and opened it like he owned the place.
Which honestly… kind of felt true.
Even from a distance, I could feel the shift as soon as he stepped inside.
The loud music cut off.
Voices rose.
Confused at first.
Then sharp.
Then—
“Where is she?”
Roman’s voice.
Low.
Controlled.
But it carried.
I wrapped my arms around myself, heart racing again.
“She—she left,” my ex stammered.
He sounded different than he ever had with me.
Nervous.
Small.
Like he knew exactly how badly he’d just messed up.
“You think I care about that right now?” Roman shot back.
A pause.
Then something crashed.
I flinched.
“Roman,” I whispered under my breath, even though he couldn’t hear me.
Inside, voices overlapped—someone else speaking, the girl maybe—but Roman cut straight through it.
“You don’t call her,” he said, each word slow and deliberate. “You don’t text her. You don’t show up anywhere near her. You don’t even look in her direction if you see her in public.”
My breath caught.
There it was.
Final.
Like a line drawn in permanent ink.
“You understand me?”
Silence.
Then—
“Yeah,” my ex said quickly. “Yeah, I—I got it.”
“Say it again.”
Roman didn’t raise his voice.
He didn’t need to.
“I won’t go near her,” he rushed out.
Another pause.
Long.
Heavy.
Like Roman was deciding something.
Then—
“If I hear your name come out of her mouth again—because you bothered her—” Roman continued quietly, “we’re going to have a very different conversation.”
A soft click.
Like something being set down hard.
Or maybe a warning.
“I won’t,” my ex said immediately. “I swear.”
A few seconds later, Roman walked back out.
He didn’t look at me right away.
Just closed the door behind him with controlled force and exhaled once, like he was locking something back down inside himself.
Then his eyes found mine.
And everything softened.
Not completely.
But enough.
“You weren’t supposed to get out of the car,” he said.
I shrugged slightly, trying to play it off even though my heart was still racing.
“You weren’t supposed to go in there.”
That earned me the smallest hint of a smirk.
Dangerous.
Familiar.
“Yeah, well,” he said, stepping closer. “Looks like neither of us listens very well.”
My breath caught just slightly.
Because now that he was closer…
I could see it.
The anger still simmering under his skin.
The way his chest rose and fell a little too steadily—like he was forcing control.
The faint tension still in his shoulders.
And underneath all of that—
Something else.
Something that had nothing to do with my ex.
“Are you okay?” he asked, softer now.
The question hit harder than anything else tonight.
I opened my mouth to say yes.
To brush it off.
To make it smaller.
But instead—
“No,” I admitted.
His gaze didn’t waver.
Didn’t flicker.
He just nodded once.
Like that was the only answer he expected.
“Good,” he said quietly.
I blinked. “Good?”
“Yeah.” His voice dropped just slightly. “Means you’re not pretending you’re fine when you’re not.”
Something about that settled in my chest.
Heavy.
Real.
“I don’t think I can go home,” I said after a second, the words coming out before I overthought them.
“My place,” Roman said immediately.
No hesitation.
No question.
Just a decision.
“I’ll text Zane,” he added. “Let him know you’re with me.”
My stomach flipped again—but for a completely different reason this time.
Safer.
Warmer.
And way more complicated than it should’ve been.
“Okay,” I said softly.
When we got back into the truck this time, everything felt different.
Not lighter.
Not easier.
Just… shifted.
Because the guy I thought I was giving my first time to?
He didn’t matter anymore.
Not really.
Not when Roman was sitting next to me, one hand on the wheel, the other tapping once against the center console like he was holding himself back from reaching for me again.
And for the first time all night—
I wasn’t thinking about what I lost.
I was thinking about what just changed.
- Writer
