Page 29 of Roman Blake
“Only when I feel like I need the answer.”
She shifted a little, then dropped her eyes. “I do not like feeling weak in front of people.”
“That ain’t weakness,” I said. “You human.”
She looked back up at me. “You let people see you like that?”
“Don’t nobody see me like nothing unless I want them to,” I said honestly. “But I got people I can bleed around when I need to.”
“Must be nice,” she mumbled.
I tilted my head. “You got Charlee. Fee. Your people.”
“That is different,” she said quickly. “They know what I tell them. They do not know everything. Some shit I keep to myself.”
“Like what?”
She inhaled slowly, then exhaled like she was letting go of something.
“Like how scared I am that if I really let myself care about somebody again, I am gone lose my mind if it goes left,” she said quietly. “Like how I do not trust myself not to choose wrong again. Like how sometimes I feel like I attract the worst type of shit and I am the common denominator.”
Her voice cracked just a little on that last part.
That hit me straight in the chest.
“You not the problem,” I said, my tone leaving no room for argument.
She laughed under her breath, but it sounded tired. “You don’t even know me like that.”
“Melissa,” I said, and waited until her eyes met mine. “I know enough to tell you this…you not some curse walking around fucking your own life up. Life did you dirty. People did you dirty. That is not the same thing as you being the problem.”
She blinked a few times like she was trying to keep tears from falling.
I did not call her on it.
I let her have her pride.
“I hate feeling like this,” she admitted. “I hate feeling like I am always bracing myself for the next bad thing.”
I understood that on a level she did not even know yet.
I sat back, looking at her. “You do know it is okay to want something soft, right? Even after everything you been through.”
She swallowed. “Soft gets you hurt.”
“Nah,” I said. “The wrong nigga gets you hurt. Soft is just what you wanted to give to the wrong person.”
She stared at me for a long second, then let out a breathy laugh that sounded a little broken. “You really think you know everything.”
“I don’t,” I said. “But I know I ain’t him.”
The room got quiet again, but it was a different kind of quiet… heavy and close.
I did not move at first. I just watched her. The way her chest rose and fell. The way her fingers picked at the seam of the pillow. The way her eyes kept finding mine and then running from them.
“Come here,” I said softly, causing her to freeze.
“What?”
