Page 46 of Under His Watch

“Don’t speak to her like that,” he said, looking my mother up and down.

She bristled, not liking anyone to interfere when she was belittling me. Not even my dad could get a word in when she was on a roll. He just had to take his turn and yell at me after she was done.

Running into her here was inevitable. She was an LPN at this very hospital, and my luck ran out when I left Romeo’s room to let Dante have a few moments with his son.

“And who areyouto tell me what to do?” she sassed back, clueless as to who he was.

I considered him from what she saw. The dark circles under his eyes from a long night of poor sleep. The redness on his cheek from falling to the floor. His clothes were clean and not bloody, at least. Franco brought a change of clothes for both of us since our clothing was so red.

Romeo looked tired and disheveled. Still handsome as ever, according to me, but tired and worn down.

She pushed past him to face me directly, oblivious of his lethal stare that he didn’t take off her for a single second.

“I’ve got every right to tell this brat how disappointed I am in her. Running off, quitting her job, stealing my husband’s car?—”

Oh!I stepped closer and got in her face. “I didn’t steal anything!”

“You didn’t bring his car home after work. That’s the same thing as stealing.”

“I didn’t bring his car home—” I stuttered and stopped short. Words failed to form, and I closed my mouth. A glance at Romeo showed that he’d lightened up his glare at my mom to frown at me, knowing exactly what happened that night.

I hadn’t stolen my dad’s car because I’d left it right where it was parked while I worked. And I hadn’t driven that car anywhere because I’d been reduced to a numb mess after being raped.

I couldn’t air that fact here. Telling my mom about what happened was something I didn’t want to ever share with her because in a backward, twisted way, she’d try to convince me that it was somehow my fault, that I wasn’t a victim but an idiot who'd encouraged those men to chase after me.

She gathered steam while I faltered. “You didn’t bring his car home. He had to go get it and be late?—”

“For a fucking fishing store?” I growled. “Tough shit.”

She lifted her hand to slap me but at the last second, noticed how much attention she was getting, arguing with me in a public place like this.

“You don’t come home. You don’t pay up?—”

“Pay up forwhat?” a woman snapped.

My mom turned as Eva strode forward. Compared to my mom in her scrubs and dumpy, dated hairstyle, Romeo’s cousin looked like a princess, royal and gorgeous. Maybe she was high-maintenance with her perfect makeup, immaculate designer clothes, and flawless skin and hair, but that was her choice. And she rocked it.

“I asked you a question. Pay forwhat?” Eva demanded.

“It’s none of your business. This is between me and my daughter.”

“Your daughter? Or your free labor?”

My mom gaped at her, stunned and furious. “What the fuck? Howdareyou speak to me like that.”

“It’s true,” I retorted. “It’s true. You and Dad treat me like free labor, making me pay rent to live with you since the day I turned sixteen. You never gave me a chance to save up to move out because you mooched off me and guilted me into giving you my money, all because Dad never wanted to work a day in his life.”

She lifted her hand to slap me again. I’d pushed her too far, throwing these truths in her face.

Romeo was quicker. Before she could lay a hand on me, he grabbed her wrist and stopped her midair. “Do. Not. Touch. Her.”

She wrestled and fought his grip. Wrenching her arm away, she stepped further from him and scowled. “Oh, so this is what you thought to do? Run off with a man like him?” Again, she dragged her judgmental glare up and down him, disdain clear in her eyes and wrath evident in her sneer.

“Answer me,” she demanded. “You thought you could run off with a man like this?”

I couldn’t stand the thought of her criticizing Romeo. He had no faults she could count. He had no flaws that could make him a horrible person. Not to me. “I didn’t run,” I said, hating that I was trying to deescalate the situation by focusing on my actions.

“It looks like you did.” She lowered her furious gaze to my hand that Romeo took. As if he felt the ire of her attention, he squeezed my fingers with a comforting pressure. To ground me, to remind me that I had him for support. The man just got out of surgery, and here he was, taking on my mother for me.

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