Chapter 6 - What Aaron ConfessedAaron Pike talked.
Not because he was sorry.
Because men like Aaron often believed confession became power if they controlled the details.
He admitted drinking that night.
He admitted taking the SUV.
He admitted racing another vehicle along Lake Shore Drive before entering the interstate.
He admitted striking the rear quarter of the DeLuca sedan.
Then came the detail that broke Elena.
He had not stopped.
He saw the car break through the barrier.
Saw it disappear.
And drove away.
Roman sat beside Elena in the prosecutor’s office when the recorded confession played.
Maya waited outside.
When the door finally opened, Elena looked ten years older.
Maya stood.
Elena came toward her.
Then collapsed into her arms.
“He saw us go over.”
Maya held her.
“He knew.”
“I’m sorry.”
“He knew and left.”
Maya had no words.
Roman emerged last.
His face was expressionless.
That frightened Maya more than anger would have.
Elena went home with Dante.
Roman remained outside the courthouse.
Maya stayed.
Snow fell between them.
“You should go with her,” Roman said.
“She has Dante.”
“She wants you.”
“She wants you too.”
Roman looked away.
Maya stepped closer.
“You don’t have to be indestructible every minute.”
His gaze snapped toward her.
“I’m fine.”
“No.”
“Maya.”
“You taught me that one.”
Roman almost laughed.
But nothing came.
He stared at the courthouse steps.
“For three years, I imagined finding him.”
Maya waited.
“I thought I would kill him.”
She believed him.
Roman continued.
“I rehearsed it.”
His voice was quiet.
“Every night after Elena stopped sleeping. Every time she screamed because she could feel pain in legs she couldn’t move.”
He looked at Maya.
“And then he was standing in my house.”
“You hit him.”
“Once.”
“You stopped.”
Roman’s expression hardened.
“Because you told me to.”
Maya shook her head.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You stopped because you chose to.”
Roman stared.
Maya continued.
“I didn’t make that choice for you.”
Something softened in his face.
Perhaps nobody had ever described restraint as strength to Roman DeLuca.
They stood beneath the courthouse lights.
Then Roman said, “Come home.”
Maya smiled faintly.
“Your home or mine?”
“My home.”
“That sounded suspiciously like an order.”
Roman corrected himself.
“Will you come home?”
“Yes.”
He looked almost annoyed by how much the answer relieved him.
The next several months were full of strange beginnings.
Aaron was denied bail.
Fraud charges multiplied.
The murder investigation became vehicular homicide charges, obstruction, evidence tampering and conspiracy.
Marianne testified.
The scrapyard owner testified.
The loan companies were frozen.
Maya’s debt disappeared.
Not paid.
Invalidated.
For the first time in years, she owed Aaron nothing.
The day she received the official letter, she sat at the DeLuca kitchen table reading the same sentence repeatedly.
Balance due: $0.
Elena rolled beside her.
“Are you crying?”
“No.”
“You’re terrible at lying.”
Maya laughed.
Roman entered.
Elena pointed.
“She’s crying.”
“Traitor.”
Roman looked at the letter.
He understood.
Maya handed it to him.
He read it.
Then quietly returned it.
“Congratulations.”
That was all.
Maya loved him a little for not making the moment his.
She did not admit that.
Not even to herself.
Her surgery was scheduled for February.
By then she was officially working with Elena’s rehabilitation team.
The title on her contract actually read:
MOVEMENT AND REHABILITATION COMPANION.
Maya had laughed for five straight minutes.
Roman had not understood why.
“It sounds like I escort muscles to social events.”
“It’s legally accurate.”
“It’s ridiculous.”
“You signed it.”
“I was emotionally compromised.”
Roman looked at her.
“I’ve noticed.”
She went silent.
So did he.
Their relationship had become a series of moments neither knew how to name.
Coffee placed beside her before she asked.
His hand at her elbow on icy steps, never touching unless she reached first.
Her leaving dinner on his desk when meetings ran late.
His presence outside the music room when Elena attempted something difficult.
One evening, Maya found Roman alone in the music room.
He sat at the piano.
“You play?”
He looked over.
“No.”
“Then why are you sitting there?”
“My mother did.”
Maya entered.
Roman touched one key.
“She played every Sunday.”
“Was she good?”
“No.”
Maya laughed.
Roman smiled.
“She was terrible.”
“Don’t let Elena hear you say that.”
“She knows.”
Maya sat beside him on the bench.
Their shoulders almost touched.
Roman looked at the keys.
“I avoided this room after the accident.”
“I know.”
“Elena stayed here because it still smelled like her perfume.”
Maya looked around.
“Does it?”
“Not anymore.”
“Is that bad?”
Roman thought.
“No.”
Silence settled.
Then Maya placed her fingers over the keys.
She played a simple waltz.
Roman listened.
“You remember.”
“Your body remembers things your life tries to forget.”
Roman looked at her knee.
“Will you dance again after surgery?”
“I don’t know.”
“You want to.”
Maya’s fingers stopped.
“Yes.”
Roman stood.
Then held out his hand.
Maya stared.
“What?”
“Teach me.”
She laughed.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“You look like you threaten orchestra conductors.”
“I don’t.”
“You absolutely do.”
Roman kept his hand extended.
Maya looked at it.
Then placed hers in his.
She stood carefully.
“Basic box step.”
Roman followed.
Badly.
“You stepped on me.”
“You moved.”
“That is generally how dancing works.”
“Again.”
They tried.
One.
Two.
Three.
One.
Two.
Three.
Roman learned quickly.
Maya forgot her knee for almost thirty seconds.
Then pain flashed.
She stumbled.
Roman caught her.
Their faces were inches apart.
Everything stopped.
Maya felt his hand at her waist.
His breathing.
The warmth of his body.
Roman looked at her mouth.
Then her eyes.
He released her immediately.
“I’m sorry.”
Maya stared.
“For catching me?”
“For assuming.”
He stepped back.
That mattered more than he understood.
Maya moved closer.
Roman did not move.
She lifted one hand and touched his face.
Then kissed him.
One soft kiss.
Roman froze.
When she pulled back, his eyes were dark.
“Maya.”
“That wasn’t an invitation to reorganize my life.”
His mouth twitched.
“I know.”
“Or increase security.”
“I know.”
“Or buy me anything.”
“Maya.”
“Yes?”
“Can I kiss you now?”
She smiled.
“Yes.”
So Roman DeLuca did.
And behind the half-open door, Elena silently wheeled backward before either of them caught her spying.
May you like
Then she texted Dante.
FINALLY.
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