Chapter 25

                                    

                                          
I stand frozen in place as I listen to their conversation. Peter looked exactly the same and I felt relieved that he was alright. The air was tense and serious, so I didn't want to interrupt. 
                          
"Please, just hear me out," Peter pleads, his voice cracking. 
                          
"Not interested. We're done." 
                          
"Please," he begs, stepping closer. "Lynda's in jail. I need your help." 
                          
Lynda was in jail? What did she do? And why was he coming to Roman for help? A million questions were running through my mind. 
                          
"No." 
                          
"Fuck," he huffs. "Be mad at me. But, this is Lynda we're talking about," Peter stares at Roman with desperate  eyes. 
                          
"Sounds like she fucked up," Roman shrugs. "Not my problem." 
                          
"She was always good to you. She's not going to make it in there." 
                          
They are silent for a moment. "What do you want me to do about it?" 
                          
"I need money," Peter admits hesitantly. "To hire a lawyer."
                          
I shake my head. I couldn't believe Peter would only come back for money. I loved Lynda and I felt sorry that she was in jail, but I can't believe Peter would come back only for that reason.
                          
"So, you came here to beg?" Roman scoffs.
                          
"Can you please loan me twenty thousand dollars?" Peter said through gritted teeth. "I'll pay you back."
                          
"I always liked your mother," Roman says. "She baked cookies. My mother never baked cookies. I can shoot you the dough, but I'm not going to do that. I'm not giving you shit." 
                          
"Maybe you forgot I saved your life." 
                          
"Shelly saved yours." 
                          
"I think about her all the time," he cries, failing his arms. "She might still be out there."
                          
Roman begins walking down the stairs. "She died alone. And when Letha died, and I needed you, you tucked your dick between your legs and ran away like the little fucking bitch you are," he steps close to Peter. "Get out of my house."
                          
I was done listening so decide to step out. I stand at the top of the stairs and say, "Peter?" 
                          
Roman continues to glare at him. "He was just leaving." 
                          
Ignoring him, I slowly walk down the stairs and give Peter a hug. I was pissed, but I was also happy to see him. I pull away and notice he was crying.
                          
"Get out," Roman repeats, pulling me away from Peter. "I'm not going to say it again." 
                          
"Roman, I know he left," I start. I knew I shouldn't get involved, but Lynda was in trouble. "Think about Lynda." 
                          
"I did," he shrugs. "The answer is still no." 
                          
A single tear falls down Peter's cheek. "Roman, please." 
                          
"Get out!" He yells, pointing to the door. Peter flinches, closing his eyes for a brief moment before slowly walking out of the house. 
                          
"I need to talk to him," I tell Roman. Before he could stop me, I run outside. Peter was getting into his car when I call his name and ask, "Are you alright?"
                          
"Why do you care? You must hate me just as much as Roman does." 
                          
I sigh, wrapping my arms around my body. The wind was blowing and it was cold. "I don't hate you, Peter. Yeah, I'm pissed, but Roman also left me. So, I should hate the both of you, but I don't. You have your reasons why you left, and I've come to understand that."