Hate Thy Neighbor - S.M. Soto Page 0,62

too. It wasn’t my intention to ruin your date. I’m also sorry you have such atrocious taste in women.”

I laugh, despite myself. “She wasn’t my date.” Something flashes behind those beautiful doe eyes, though I don’t have time to dissect it. “Can I show you something?”

Her mouth opens, but nothing comes out, as if like she’s incapable of speech. She opts for nodding her head instead and follows me into the garage. I pull out an extra bucket just for her, identical to the one I’m sitting on. She eyes me warily, perching on the edge of it, like she needs to be ready to get to her feet, at any moment, in case I attack.

“So,” she says, clearing her throat, fidgeting with the plastic. “What did you want to show me?”

I shift on the bucket, staring out at our darkened street. The streetlights illuminate the pavement in an orange glow. My brows tug down, as I try to work out how to say what I need to say.

“I guess I didn’t bring you in here to show you anything per se, but rather, explain what happened, and why I reacted the way I did.”

She nods slowly, still not following.

“That woman, she wasn’t there because—”

“Look, Rome, you don’t have to explain anything to me. I get it.”

I sigh, rubbing an anxious hand across the back of my neck. “No, I do. She was a social worker.”

A crease forms between her brows, and she looks up at me with questions in her eyes. “A social worker?”

“My little brother, he’s…” I pause, a grimace tainting my features, as I try to get the words past my lips. It’s always so difficult to admit our situation to people. I normally don’t discuss it for that reason alone. “He’s in foster care. I’ve been trying to get my life together, so I can get him back. The other day was my home visit.”

I hear her sharp gasp and see the moment realization dawns on her, by the way the pain enters her eyes. “Oh my God, Rome. I am so sorry. I didn’t realize. I feel horrible.”

I shake my head, smiling sadly. “Don’t. I think it proves I’m not ready. Maybe I’ll never be. I’ve worked toward one single goal most of my life and that’s to get him back, but it’s almost like, every time I try, it’s never enough. There always seems to be something that gets in the way. I’m starting to wonder if it’s life, fate, telling me to give up. Maybe he is better off elsewhere.”

I startle at the soft touch of her hand on top of mine. Her skin is soft where mine is rough. Her body is cold where mine runs hot. We’re opposites; yet, I’ve never been more drawn to another individual like I am to her. My gaze drops down to our point of contact. Her creamy skin against my tan, weathered skin. Slowly, I lift my gaze back up to hers and realize she’s been doing the same thing, taking it in, watching me. She has tears swimming in her big doe eyes. I’ve never noticed it before, but her eyes are a chaotic blend of colors. Like honey in the sunlight. Fine strands of amber. The most beautiful flecks of gold. She’s like a siren calling to me, singing a song, enrapturing me.

“No,” she says vehemently. “It’s going to happen, Roman. I promise it is. You deserve this. You both do.” Sadness slackens her expression. “I wish I would’ve known. I wish I’d known about your brother…God.” She sighs, shaking her head.

“It’s not your fault. I avoid talking about it.”

“With my parents. When you said he lives in Oakland, that’s true?”

I nod. “He lives in some shit place. Hell, I’m not sure if this home now is better than the one we had growing up. It’s not a far stretch, but I know if I had him, I’d be able to give him a better life than anyone else could. I promised him I would.”

Her eyes soften as she gazes up at me. “What about your parents?”

A scoff bursts past my lips, as resentment fills my chest. The pressure is unbearable, making it hard to breathe.

“My parents? Non-existent. My father was a trailer trash piece of shit, and my mother wasn’t any different. She loved drugs more than her children. She had Ryder with her drug dealer boyfriend, before he dumped her, and I was the one left to raise him. I was

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