Then it was my turn.

  The guards seemed more than happy to see me go.

  I was lucky to be leaving on my own two feet and not in a body bag.

  Like a prisoner who’d served his full sentence, I walked out of Castle Correctional Center with nothing but the clothes I’d been wearing the night I arrived. The pants no longer fit right, leaving my ankles exposed to the winter air. But I was free and didn’t give a shit what I looked like.

  Ms. Simpson met me in the circular driveway.

  No wonder the guards had gone easy on us after the big brawl. They didn’t want me leaving the place looking too beat up.

  “Can I drop you off somewhere?” she asked in a soft voice.

  I snorted and shook my head. Now she’s concerned.

  Since Castle was in the middle of nowhere, I didn’t have much of a choice. I accepted her offer and folded my aching body into her small sedan.

  “Where do you want me to take you?” she asked.

  I rattled off the address for Mrs. Shields’ house.

  Juliet’s house now.

  I didn’t know where else to go. I hadn’t written to her in so long, she might not welcome me at all.

  But being with Juliet was the closest I’d ever felt to home, so I had to start there.

  I watched the crumbling building fade away in the side mirror and felt nothing.

  Pain sizzled over my bottom lip. I flipped the visor down and stared at myself in the small mirror. My battered face was the least of the injuries I’d come out of that place with.

  “Roman—” Ms. Simpson’s concerned voice grated my last nerve.

  “Don’t.”

  “What happened in there?”

  “Why do you care?” I slammed the visor into place and glared at her. “Are you going to do something about it? Can you even do anything about it?”

  “I can try.”

  “That’s great. I’m sure your efforts will be appreciated.” I didn’t bother hiding the bitterness in my tone. I was done playing good little foster kid.

  I was finally free and in control of my life.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “You should be.” She wasn’t the only person who’d fucked up my life, but she was the most convenient one to take my anger out on at the moment.

  “Was it the guards?”

  I clenched my jaw and stared out the window.

  “I have other kids in there,” she said.

  “Well, I hope you do a better job for them than you did for me.”

  She pulled the car into the empty driveway and shifted it into park. “Is anyone home?”

  “How should I know?”

  She sighed and twisted in her seat, reaching for something in the back. She dragged my old backpack up front. I snorted when I saw it—a relic from my former life.

  “What the hell am I supposed to do with that now?”

  “I don’t know. I kept it for you. In case…”

  It was heavy but I didn’t bother unzipping it to see what was inside. I didn’t care.

  She reached behind her for again, then handed me a folder. A small white envelope was clipped to the front. I flicked it open and stared at the cash.

  “We usually give something to kids when they…”

  “Get thrown into the big, bad world?”

  “Yes.” She touched the folder. “There are some numbers in there. People you can call to help you adjust…”

  “Thanks, but no.” I rolled the folder and shoved it in the front pocket of my backpack. “Can I go now?”

  I didn’t wait for her answer. I grabbed my shit and shoved the door open.

  “Good luck, Roman.”

  The door made a satisfying clunk when I slammed it in her face.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Juliet

  Fat snowflakes fluttered from the overcast sky and stuck to my windshield. First snow of the year. Roman’s birthday was today. Would they finally let him out? I hadn’t heard from him since Mrs. Shields passed away. Mr. Potter promised he had a plan if Roman wasn’t released after his birthday.

  A terrible thought wouldn’t stop nagging me. What if he’d already been released to another facility far away that wouldn’t let him contact me? None of my letters had been returned, but that didn’t mean anything.

  Frustration flowed through my veins and I gripped the steering wheel so tightly my fingers ached. I rolled into the driveway and shut the car off.

  Something on the front porch caught my attention.

  A man.

  My heart leapt into my throat and my hand moved closer to the key in the ignition.

  Then he tipped his head up.

  “Roman!” I flung my door open and raced over the yard. “Oh my God. You’re here!” I shouted, not caring who overheard me.

  He stood slowly. His blank expression made my heart stutter, but I kept moving until I had my arms around him.

  He winced and I stepped back. My gaze lingered on his black eye and split lip.

  “What happened? Did you get mugged on your way here?”

  He silently shook his head.

  I grabbed his hand, also raw and battered, and dragged him into the house.

  “Roman, who hurt you?”

  He didn’t answer with words. His haunted green eyes captured mine as he kicked the door shut.

  I jumped at the noise but the expression on his face didn’t change.

  “Do you still love me?” he asked.

  “How can you ask me that?” I couldn’t hide the hurt in my voice. The time away had changed him. Hollowed his cheeks. Sharpened his already hard edges. But it was more than the physical changes. The playful gleam in his eyes had been stolen. His spark dulled.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were getting out?” This zombie version of Roman scared me to my soul. I wasn’t afraid of him. I was terrified of what had happened to him. “I’m so happy to see you. You must be starving. Let me get you something to eat. If there isn’t enough, we can run to the store.” Fear forced an endless stream of chatter out of my mouth. I turned and stepped toward the kitchen.

  Roman’s hand wrapped around mine, halting my escape. He yanked me toward him.

  “Are you still my girl, Juliet?” His blank expression shifted into need.

  “Roman,” I whispered. My heart raced, warming me all over. He pressed his palms against my cheeks. The chill of his hands jolted me. “How long were you out there? You must be freezing.”

  “Kiss me.”

  He covered my mouth with his, swallowing my answer. It didn’t matter, my answer would always be yes.

  He inhaled a sharp breath, then slipped his arms around my waist. His tongue slicked along my bottom lip, and I opened to him. The warmth flowing between us sent shivers of excitement through me.

  I’d had this dream so many times. Thank God, he was real. Here in my arms. In my living room.

  “You came back for me,” I whispered.

  “Where else would I go, butterfly?” His hands left me for a moment. He shrugged off his sweatshirt, tossing it on the couch behind him.

  “I don’t know. You haven’t responded to any of my letters lately. I know they were silly but—”

  “They weren’t silly. Your letters kept me alive, Juliet.”

  His words were so solemn, I didn’t question him or suggest he was exaggerating.

  “I’m sorry I stopped answering them,” he continued. “I couldn’t—”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m just so happy you’re here now.” I was ready to come out of my skin with excitement. I wanted to do everything at once—hug him, kiss him, feed him, shower him with love to make up for all the time we’d missed and to ease whatever had left him with anguish in his eyes.

  “How’d you get here?”

  “Ms. Simpson gave me a lift.”

  “Hmm.” I had opinions about his caseworker but I kept them to myself.

  I gently touched his lip. “Did anyone take care of this?”

  He snorted.

  I didn’t know how to reach this hollowed-out version of my boyfriend. It was as if all the sweet parts had been scooped out of him while he was away. I wanted to fill those empty spots with love again but didn’t know how.

  “Are you hungry?” I asked.

  “Starving.” He glanced down. “But I really want to take a shower.”

  “Okay.” I loosely grasped his hand.

  He picked up his backpack and kicked off his boots, wiggling his toes before following me upstairs.

  In the bathroom, he hesitated, leaning against the sink. I hurried to the linen closet in the hallway and gathered a set of fresh towels, a bottle of bodywash, a razor and a toothbrush.

  Happy I felt like I was doing something for him, I returned to the bathroom.

  With his back to the door, he stripped off his shirt.

  Bruises. Welts. Burns.

  His broad back and upper arms were covered in ugly marks.

  A strangled cry burst past my lips. The towels and supplies landed at my feet as I slapped my hands over my mouth. “Roman,” I gasped. “What happened to you?”

  Slowly, he turned around and stared at me. The deadness in his eyes chilled my blood.

  “Who hurt you?” Anger bubbled inside me. I’d talk to Mr. Porter and see if there was anything we could do. Whoever hurt Roman should pay. I wanted to wrap my hands around a baseball bat and find the person myself.

  “Someday.” He swallowed hard and turned, glancing at himself in the mirror briefly. “I promise, I’ll tell you. But right now—”

  “Okay. Of course. I’m sorry.” I bent over and picked up the stuff I’d dropped and set everything on the counter. “I didn’t know what you might want to use.” I picked up the bottle of Cyprus-scented bodywash. “I got this for you a couple of weeks ago. Hoping you’d…well, I figured you wouldn’t want to use my roses and vanilla wash…so…” It seemed so stupid now. He was away being tortured and I was worried about what soap scent he might like.

  But for the first time, his lips curved into a smile that reached his eyes. He eased the bottle out of my hands, rubbing his finger over my knuckles. “You were thinking of me? Like that?”

  “Like what?”

  He shrugged. “Thank you.”

  We stood there staring at each other and I sensed he wouldn’t finish until I left. “I, uh, I’ll go start dinner.” I swirled my hands in front of the medicine cabinet. “Use whatever you want. If there’s something you need that’s not here, we can go out and grab it.” I backed out the door.

  “I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

  He closed the door behind me.

  The sound of the lock clicking into place rang like a gunshot.

  I stood there staring at it for a second before heading downstairs. My mind was a jumble of anxiety, unable to sort through any of my thoughts or emotions. I headed downstairs and into the kitchen.

  The house had come with a treasure trove of recipe books from Mrs. Shields. Without Roman around, I’d been afraid to go anywhere besides school, the grocery store, and the house. I didn’t even want to invite Vienna over too often, in case her parents started asking questions about why I was living here by myself. All the alone time allowed me to concentrate on schoolwork and plow through the cookbooks. Sometimes, I invited Dex over for dinner. Often, I’d pack the leftovers and bring them to school for Pip. I liked to think Mrs. Shields would be delighted to know how much Pip loved the banana nut muffins I made from one of her handwritten recipes.

  I didn’t have a lot of food in the house. Tomorrow, we’d have to run to the grocery store. I peered in the refrigerator and pulled out a package of ground beef. Next, I put a large pot of water on the stove to boil. Spaghetti with meat sauce was something I could easily make. It should be filling and leave us with enough for tomorrow’s lunch.

  I was in the middle of browning the meat when Roman appeared in the archway.

  “Hey,” he rasped.

  I lowered the flame on the meat and covered the pan. “Feel better?” What a dumb question. He was bruised from his neck to his waist. A shower couldn’t fix that.

  He lifted his shoulders in a half-hearted shrug. “I feel cleaner.”

  “That’s a start.” I took a few steps closer. I had to tip my head back a little further to meet his eyes. His damp hair hung over his forehead, covering one eyebrow. I reached up to brush it away.

  He caught my hand mid-air.

  “Your hair’s longer,” I said.

  His body relaxed. He released my hand and gripped my hips. Instead of pulling me closer, he walked me backward and gently lifted me onto the counter. He wedged his body between my knees and framed my face with his hands.

  “Kiss me,” he whispered an inch from my lips.

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You could never hurt me, butterfly.” The warm weight of his forehead pressed against mine. “I missed you so much.”

  I took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh, woodsy scent of the bodywash I’d bought him and smiled. “You smell good.”

  Deep laughter rumbled in his chest. Brief, but it still counted.

  He pressed his lips to mine. Hard and demanding. We parted, breathless and staring at each other.

  “You don’t know how many times I visualized kissing you,” he said.

  I blinked. “I’m right here.”

  He caught my lips in a gentler kiss. He trailed kisses along my jaw and to my neck, tugging my shirt to the side to trace his lips over my collarbones.

  “Juliet?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Can we eat dinner later?”

  His hands tightened around my waist and he yanked me to the edge of the counter, pressing himself between my legs enough to share exactly what he had in mind.

  I looped my arms around his neck. “Whenever you want.”

  “I need you,” he whispered against my lips.

  “I need you too.”

  He lifted me against his body and I wrapped my legs around his waist. In his embrace, I felt complete for the first time in months.

  We took a quick detour toward the stove and I leaned over to turn off the burners.

  “Hold on.” He adjusted me in his arms, then all but sprinted for the stairs. I didn’t need to remind him. He knew exactly where to go.

  Having Roman’s arms around me again was the safest I’d felt in months.

  In the bedroom, he set me down. I stripped off my shirt and jeans, eager to be close to him again.

  “Roman.” I wanted him so much, my voice was nothing but a harsh whisper. I’d help him forget whatever awful memories he came home with. He needed to be reminded how much I loved him and of the future we’d been planning together.

  He reached out and cupped my breast, rubbing his thumb over my nipple. My bra was sheer, the fabric so thin, I felt every caress of his calloused hands. His other hand stroked over my ribs, my stomach, and finally pressed between my legs. I went up on tiptoes and dug my nails into his shoulders.

  “Ah!” My eyes squeezed shut. I’d missed this so much. “Please, Roman, please,” I begged.

  “Undress me first.”

  My eyes popped open. Something was different. More intense.

  It hurt so much to imagine what he’d been through.

  I slid my hands under his T-shirt and slowly lifted it until he flung it across the room. I gasped. He was leaner, all cut, defined muscle which somehow made all the hideous scrapes and bruises marring his skin stand out even more. He was almost too lean and hard, like food had been scarce.

  “Roman—”

  He pressed a finger to my lips. “Not now.”

  A flicker of pain in his eyes caught my breath, but I didn’t probe. I’d give him what he needed first and ask my questions later.

  Roman

  The worry and pity in Juliet’s eyes almost undid me. The shame of everything that had happened at the Castle still clogged my soul. There weren’t enough showers in my future to wash those memories away. I didn’t want Juliet to ever know about the fights. If she looked at me differently, or thought I’d turned into a monster, it would be the death of me.

  “Down.” I jerked my head toward the mattress. She spread out in the middle with her head on the pillows. I prowled to the foot of the bed.

  So much anger still pinged around inside my sore body, I worried I’d be too rough with her. My hands curled into fists at my sides. I needed her so badly I was afraid I’d break her.

  “Slide your hand inside your panties and touch yourself.”

  Her eyebrows lifted. “Roman?”

  “Do it.” I softened my tone. “For me.”

  She stared at me, still unsure or shy, I couldn’t tell.

  “The last few months have been non-stop ugliness,” I explained. “Show me something beautiful.”

  Slowly, she slid one hand down her belly and under her panties.

  “Open, so I can see. Please.”

  She bit down on her fist, which only made her look sexier.

  Her panties were sheer but I still couldn’t see much. Just the back of her hand pressing against the black material. I moved in closer, sitting on the edge of the bed and resting my hand on her knee.

  “Touch yourself.” I skimmed my fingers over her soft skin, pressing her legs open wider.

  “I’m so wet, Roman,” she whispered. “Mmm, you should feel it.”

  Damn if she didn’t know how to make me snap. I stood, shoved my shorts down my legs, and pounced on her. The bed creaked under my weight. She laughed and pulled her hand from her panties.

  “See?”

  I grabbed her hand, sucking her fingers into my greedy mouth.

  “Missed your taste.”

  Her cheeks turned pink.

  “Don’t you dare be embarrassed about anything we do together.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Good.” I snagged her underwear between my fingers and dragged them down her legs, tossing them aside. I shoved her thighs apart and inhaled.

  A little pleading sound from her throat made me pause. Calmed me. I moved in and kissed her thighs. Ran my scruff over her soft skin. Her legs quivered and she threaded her fingers into my hair.

  One corner of my mouth curled up. “You want me to kiss anywhere in particular?”