All Roads Lead Home ✓

33 | MAKE YOU FEEL MY LOVE

"He mows the lawn."

"But you'd like him to be important?" Roman straightened his shoulders and prayed for the right answer. What if she didn't want him anymore? Or worse—didn't love him. She'd never said the words because he'd not allowed it. His stupid rules. But she'd told Mariana, and women told their best friends things they didn't share with anyone else, so it had to be true. But now?

"No." She turned away but not before Roman saw a tear roll down her cheek. He wanted to grab on to her and never let her go. Tell her what a jerk he'd been. How he'd finally come to his senses and realized he loved her. But not before he got everything off his chest.

She walked into the kitchen. "Do you want something to drink? All I have is water."

What he wanted most was to get her naked and fuck her into next week, but that wasn't a great opening line. He shoved his hands into his pockets and began. "It's my fault the PI found you, and I'm sorry. Curiosity got the best of me, but I should have waited until you were ready to tell me about yourself."

"It's okay. I don't blame you." She sounded like she meant it.

He rocked back on his heels. "Well, I do, and I'll never forgive myself for it."

She took a glass from the cabinet and filled it, gulped, wiped at her eyes, then faced him again, her gaze sweeping over him like it was the first time she saw him. Maybe it was. "You look terrible. What's wrong?"

He pulled his hands from his pockets and gave a slow shake of his head. "Everything."

Rushing to him, she took his face in her hands and gazed up at him. "I love you. I know you don't want me to and I've tried not to but I can't help it. I kept telling myself if I could make a whole day without thinking about you it would mean I was getting over you. But it's been 152 days, and it hasn't happened yet."

Damn. He'd been doing the same thing for a hell of a lot longer than that. He'd argued with himself about how wrong it was on so many levels. She had no business falling for him. An ex-con would never fit in with her rich friends. But the most important reason was the deal breaker. He couldn't meet her eyes. "Once you know me, you won't love me."

She searched his face. "But I do know you."

For a moment, he didn't say anything, but confession was supposed to be good for the soul, and God knew Roman's soul was in trouble. Like a man about to be hanged, the secret tightened around his throat. Other than Terrance, no one knew the truth.

"No, you don't. I—I murdered a man, Zoya. And it wasn't self-defense. I thought about it. Planned it. Watched him die. And even now, after all this time, the only regret I have is that I can't kill him again. I'm glad he's dead."

Her gaze didn't waver and there wasn't a hint of judgement in her eyes. "Is that what your nightmares are about?"

He rested his forehead against hers. "Yes."

"Was he the one who gave you the scar?"

The memory flashed through his mind as vivid as if it happened yesterday. Danny Pittman. Inmate #05132162. Roman had everything about the guy memorized. Every tattoo, scar, blemish. He'd never hated anyone the way he'd hated Danny. Not even Grimald for putting him in that hell hole to begin with. Roman swallowed hard. "Yeah."

She wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his chest. "Then I'm glad he's dead, too."

He'd opened up to her, and she'd not batted an eye. She was the one person who'd seen him at his worst and now knew his darkest secret, yet she loved him anyway. How could she overlook everything he'd done and still find good in him? The part that wanted to take care of her. Protect her. Love her. He pulled away and took her hands in his. "Marry me."