Page 62 of Roman and the Hopeless Romantic
“You’re naïve if that’s all you think he wants. Date him, I don’t care, but you can’t spend the night in his room.”
“Sure, Dad. Whatever you say, Dad.” He’d acted like he was responsible for her ever since their mom died and their dad checked out. Newsflash, she was only one year younger than him. They weren’t even in different grades of school since she was in her accelerated online program. “You can go now.”
“Cass—”
“I said go.” She pointed to the door.
He clenched his jaw but held in whatever scathing words he wanted to throw at her as he stomped from the room.
She was under no illusions her brother didn’t spend the night with Charlotte at Hadley’s party during the storm. Did he think less of his girlfriend? What right did he have?
She kicked her bed frame, cursing the pain shooting through her foot.
Slamming her door open, she stormed into the bathroom and turned the shower on. Maybe she could scald the anger away. Steam swirled around her, soaking into her pores as she stepped under the hot spray.
But it didn’t soothe the ire.
What were they even doing barging into Roman’s room? That was the million-dollar question. Thoughts of Roman made her finish her shower quickly. He was probably still sick and had no clue what was going on.
She dried herself off and slipped into linen pants and a t-shirt. Her dark hair hung wet around her shoulders, soaking into the shirt. But she didn’t stop to dry it. Knocking on Roman’s door, she pushed it open.
He slept as if nothing had happened, as if her dad and brother hadn’t found him curled around their precious Cassie.
Grumbling something she couldn’t make out, he turned onto his side.
“Rome,” she whispered, glancing back at the door to make sure Jesse couldn’t hear her.
He lifted one eyelid. “Ughhh I feel like crap.”
“I’m sorry.” She brushed sweaty hair back from his forehead. “Are you hungry? I can bring something up.”
“Starving actually. But I think the only thing I could eat is toast.”
She nodded. “Coming right up.”
She refused to be cowered by Jesse. Holding her chin high, she walked down the hall and descended the stairs. She hadn’t done anything wrong. He’d see that if he paid any attention at all.
She stopped in the doorway of the kitchen, not believing the sight before her. Her dad stood behind the stove with his old grilling apron tied around his waist. Her mother gave that to him for his birthday one year, and she could still see the joy on his face, how much he loved anything she bought for him.
But he hadn’t worn it in the two years she’d been gone. In fact, it was the first time in years she could remember him cooking. That task usually fell to Jesse.
He pointed a spatula at her, giving no indication how he felt about what he’d seen. “Pancakes?”
“You’re making pancakes?” She slid onto a stool at the counter, resting her chin on her hand. She could almost forget about her fight with Jesse when she saw her dad doing something so dad-like, so normal.
He nodded, his lips turning up into a half-smile. “I did.” He looked so proud of himself, Cassie slid off the stool and rounded the counter to wrap her arms around him. Because she was proud of him too.
She was proud of both of them.
They didn’t mention the furniture he’d donated the night before, but they didn’t need to.
Will ran into the kitchen and snagged a piece of bacon from the plate before their dad could swat him away. Eli hopped onto a chair at the table, waiting patiently.
Even Jesse appeared, the scowl from before gone from his face. No one could be angry at a sight like this.
Will’s cackling filled the silence around them until their dad started to hum.
Yep, hum.
