Be With Me: Chapter 16

She hadn’t listened. Why hadn’t she listened?

Mia’s hand rested on my shoulder. Small. Warm. Steady.

She was trying to comfort me, but it was having the opposite effect. My lungs tightened even more.

I shrugged her off and tried to get back to my feet, stumbling as the world tilted around me. The memories clawed their way to the surface, unrelenting. The flashbacks were vivid. A horror movie projected straight into my head.

Nails digging into my thigh. Water rushing in with a roar. Her choked apologies, the names of the children⁠—

My chest felt like it was splintering apart, my head splitting open.

Control. I needed to get back in control.

“Romolo, look at me.” Mia’s voice broke through.

I blinked. I was back on my knees, soaked to the bone, heart hammering like it was trying to break free of my ribs. I couldn’t get enough air.

“I said leave me.” My voice was raw. She wasn’t supposed to see me like this. No one was. And no one had, not since that night.

I’d shut the emotional valve off inside my head back then, and it hadn’t opened. Not until now.

“I’m not going to do that.”

My eyes squeezed shut. Arms wrapped around me, pulling me close. Her wet cheek pressed against my own. She was as drenched as I was, but still warm somehow. Still trying to comfort me.

That night, I’d almost begged for this. I’d just wanted someone to hold me, to tell me it would be okay. But no one did. No one ever did.

I felt like I was choking on something. I didn’t know how to receive comfort anymore. Maybe it was like a muscle. It atrophied if it didn’t get used.

“Tell me what’s going on,” she whispered, her lips brushing against my cheek.

I shook my head. I’d never tell. Not her. Not anyone.

She pulled back slightly, her brown eyes searching mine. “You’re trembling.”

The words echoed in my head: “You. Can’t. Be. Weak.”

I jerked back, knocking Mia’s arms away. “Get away from me.”

“No. I’m not going anywhere. I don’t care if you don’t like it. I’m right here.”

After a moment, her hands found my arms and rubbed up and down in slow, soothing strokes.

Something cracked inside my chest. I couldn’t look at her. I looked down at my muddy hands instead and fought against my instinct to push her away from me again.

I didn’t know how to handle her touch, but it dawned on me I would like it even less when it was gone.

On each inhale, I braced myself. On each exhale, I relaxed.

She kept rubbing my arms, reminding me I wasn’t alone.

The cord around my throat began to loosen. Something welled inside me.

Rain poured down on us, unrelenting, but I didn’t care. It was better than being in the car, because being in the car felt like I was in a coffin.

Her hands stilled on my shoulders. “That’s it. Slow, deep breaths.”

I stared at her bare knees plunked into the muddy grass. I’d been an utter asshole to her in the car. And she was still doing what she always did—taking care of people.

I tried to summon some disgust at that. I couldn’t. The truth was…nothing about her disgusted me. She just stirred up a whirlwind of strange, fucked-up emotions when she proved to me, again and again, that her goodness wasn’t fake.

Not even a little bit.

She held a mirror up to me and in its reflection, I saw all the ways we were different.

She helped people.

I destroyed them.

I kept my eyes on her knees until my pulse slowed. She didn’t rush me. She just sat there, her presence a quiet comfort, waiting for me to find my way back to myself.

Shame crept up my spine as I realized what a coward I was being. Hiding from her, from the understanding in her eyes.

Finally, I forced myself to meet her gaze.

And fuck, she was beautiful.

Even now, with the buns on her head falling apart, her mascara smeared, and her black cardigan covered in dirt.

Without thinking, I brushed away the dark-gray streaks on her cheek with my thumb—only to remember too late that my hands were covered in mud.

“Shit,” I muttered, my eyes tracing over the streak I’d left on her cheek. “I got you dirty.”

She smiled, and it was pure light. The first break of sunrise over the horizon. “Don’t think it makes much of a difference at this point.”

I huffed. We were both filthy.

Her eyes searched mine. “What happened to you?” she asked again.

I couldn’t tell her. Couldn’t let her inside that part of me. The ugliest, darkest part. But the walls I’d spent years building around it were weak now. Punctured.

And the way she looked at me—with no pity, no judgment, just quiet concern—made the words slip out.

“A while back, I ran my car into a lake. Almost drowned. Driving in the rain made me—” I swallowed hard, shaking my head. I sounded like a fucking idiot.

“The rain made it feel like we were underwater,” she said gently, squeezing my shoulders. “I get it.”

I focused on the sensation of her touch. It didn’t bother me anymore. It anchored me to this moment instead of letting me drown in the past.

We stayed like that until my body felt like it was back to normal.

But I feared nothing would ever be normal again.