It took Roman a few minutes to fully wake and clear his head. Had he hit her? She'd fallen backwards, but he didn't think he'd caused it. At least not by touching her. But what if he had? She'd never believe it was an accident.

All he'd wanted was to come to Arcadia and be left alone. That way when the dreams came there'd be no one to witness the tough ex-con scream like a frightened child and cry like a baby. With plenty of whiskey or sex, he avoided the nightmares, and sometimes he got by without either of those things.

He rubbed his hand across the scar on his belly. He didn't know which dream was worse, the one where he'd been shanked and almost died, or later when he'd killed his attacker.

Roman sat on the edge of the bed, shoulders hunched, head buried in his hands, and tried to erase the vision of blood swirling down the shower drain, as his victim bled out. Self-defense, but in prison, that didn't matter.

Terrance's voice screamed inside his head as he ripped the shiv from Roman's fist. Get the hell out of here!  He hadn't remembered following the instructions, but must have because Terrance took the fall. Doing life without parole, his cellmate explained that gave him a free pass. One more conviction wouldn't matter.

Roman drew a deep breath. He had to make this right with the girl. She had to understand he meant her no harm, but from her expression, he wasn't sure he could convince her. He rose and padded down the hall to her door.

She was probably terrified, and it left his stomach in knots. He hadn't meant to frighten her, but he did.  He didn't want her to think the worst of him—like the monster he knew he was. He didn't think he could stomach her being truly afraid of him.  

"Listen, kid... Zoya... I'm sorry if I scared you. I'd never hurt you—intentionally."

He waited, but no response. Okay, she was pissed. He got that, but he couldn't take a chance on her going to the cops without hearing him out first. "Open the door and let's talk about it. I promise to make it up to you. I'll even quit harping about you leaving. Whattaya say?"

Still no answer, he turned the knob, but the door was locked. Shit. She probably just needed time to get over the shock of his actions. "We'll talk in the morning."

He returned to his room, but couldn't sleep, so he dressed and grabbed his truck keys. No need to wait, he'd go into town and get more whiskey.

Keeping the beam aimed at the ground, Zoya followed the worn trail that curled into the woods. An owl hooted from a nearby tree. Frogs croaked in rhythm. Crickets chirped. She loved the sounds of the night. She'd never known how alive the forest was until moving to Arcadia. Even after the world went to sleep, Mother Nature stayed awake.

When she reached her destination, she collapsed onto a rock and rested a minute before she attempted her ascent. Strange how a house in a tree with no doors or locks felt safer than the farm.

It took longer than usual to climb the ladder because her legs were like rubber. Once she reached the floor, she wrapped herself in the blanket and sat cross-legged, clutching her stomach, rocking back and forth. 

She'd never had a man scream at her like that, or look at her that way.  She wasn't sure he was seeing her, but rather some demon from his past. The pain in his eyes made her think of the most heartbreaking episode of The Catch she'd seen where after years of suffering, parents found out their child was dead.

She took a deep breath, dragging clean, cool night air into her lungs. Roman hated her for no reason other than she existed. That wasn't anything new. She'd lived in a house where she'd experienced the same thing. As hard as she tried to be invisible, it was never enough.

Sometimes she wondered if some higher power hated her too. They must, or why take away the few people in the world who had loved her? Mom, Dad, Charamel.

Despite Dad's wishes, Zoya didn't belong here anymore.  Roman had never been a consideration. If he had, Dad would have chosen somewhere else for her to live. She dreaded having to face Roman again, but she'd have to return to the house. Everything she owned was there. She should go back now. Get the things she needed before he got up for the day. That way, she wouldn't have to see him.

It wouldn't take long to pack. Crawl back in the window, grab her clothes, money, computer, and phone and be gone within the hour. It was irresponsible to not give the funeral home two weeks' notice, but she couldn't help that unless she stayed at the local motel or Mariana's.

She'd decide tomorrow. Right now she'd get her things, spend the night in her car, and in the morning, with a clear head, she'd address her job situation. Decision made, she climbed down and headed back to Charamel's.

When she arrived at the house, Roman's truck was gone. She released a sigh and her chest relaxed. Things were finally going her way. She'd be in and out in thirty minutes. As she hoisted a leg up and straddled the windowsill, headlights beamed down the road. She scurried to get inside, but her pants caught on a loose nail. Before she could free it, the truck came to a halt, and he jumped out of the cab.

"What are you doing?"

He didn't sound angry, but her heart hammered anyway. She'd seen how quickly his mood could change. Before she said anything, he stood behind her and she froze in place, waiting for him to jerk her free.

"Let me help you." He made the offer but didn't touch her, just held his open hand toward her.

"I can manage."

"Are you going or coming?"

"Both."

"What do you mean?"

She swung her leg over and fell into the room, then pulled herself up and drug her duffle from the closet.

He stooped to lean inside the window. "I'm sorry about before. I didn't mean to scare you, but I'd had a bad dream. I do that sometimes. You know. Prison stuff."

She didn't answer, just grabbed jeans and shirts from hangers and stuffed them into the bag. "Charamel said you were a good boy, and maybe you were, but tonight, I saw a horrible man."

"I'd never hurt you, Zoya. I swear it. No matter what you think of me, you have to believe that."

Her heart stopped. He'd used her name and there was a sadness to his voice she'd never heard before.  She spoke over her shoulder. "I thought you were in trouble.'"

"In a way—I was. Can I come in?"

He didn't sound dangerous anymore. He sounded... small and wounded. She nodded.

In a few seconds, he filled the doorway but didn't step into the room. "I don't remember if I knocked you over or not, but if I did, it was an accident, and I'm sorry. I'm asking you not to report it."

She turned to face him. "To who?"

"The cops."

She'd not thought of that. He was afraid she could have him arrested. This changed things. Not that she'd ever accuse him unjustly, but she'd had a bargaining chip all along and not known it. This might be the reason he'd been determined to get rid of her.

"You didn't hit me and I would never say you did if it wasn't true."

He sighed. "Thank you. Where are you gonna go?"

She moved to the bathroom and gathered her toiletries. "I don't know."

He stuck his hands in his pockets. "Stay. I won't badger you anymore about leaving. And the nightmare thing... well, now you know to leave me alone when it happens."

He sounded sincere, and she wanted to stay. If she didn't, she had no idea which direction to head. She'd worked so hard to set all this up, to start over would be difficult.  Especially without Dad's help. "Okay."

"Okay." He turned and disappeared down the hall.

She wasn't sure what had just happened, but something had changed between them.  Whatever it was, she wouldn't question it. She'd keep doing what she was doing and hope for the best.

Roman wasn't sure why he'd asked the girl to stay. Perhaps it was because she'd seen the dark side of his soul and didn't judge him. He never wanted to see the fear she'd had when he yelled at her. The fact he could terrify a girl like her frightened him.

Somewhere, deep inside was the decent person he'd been before his world had fallen apart. Maybe she was here to help him find that man again. Or he saw a connection. Both were hiding from something.

Him, from the past.

Her, from the future.

Well, now that hes given up trying to get her to leave, maybe they'll have some sort of camaraderie now. Maybe.

TEASER: "Sooner or later, he'll find out. I just wanted to put it off as long as possible."

What do you think is going on here?