I walk down the hallway, which is l

I walk down the hallway, which is longer than any normal hallway should be. It’s lined with paintings, some of which are by people I know. I’d stop to look, but I need to find Romy. She freaked out when she saw my painting, and it wasn’t exactly the reaction I was hoping for.
I don’t know what I was hoping for, really. Maybe that she would throw her arms around my neck and kiss me. Maybe that she would tilt her head up and whisper that I’ve done the same thing for her. Every time I’ve worked on that piece, I’ve thought of her, how she came to me that night when everything went to hell, how she walked right into my apartment when she could have walked away, how she held me tight when I was disintegrating. How she’s strong, so fucking strong, and it’s deceptive because it’s delicate and subtle, but it’s unbreakable all the same.
I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with her.
It’s written all over that painting, and I figured she would see it. Maybe she did, and that’s what made her run away. My chest starts to ache as I stride past Daniel’s paintings. She said she needed a bathroom, and there’s one off to the right, but it’s empty …
A muffled sob comes from the room at the end of the hall, off to the left. No. She’s crying? Fuck. I hit the doorway, planning to say or do whatever it takes to make it better.
I pull up short at the scene in front of me.
Romy’s cowering on the couch, her hands over her mouth, her eyes glittering with tears. There’s a blond guy standing over her, his back to me. He’s got a throw pillow clenched in one hand.
My fingers grip the doorframe. “The auction’s starting,” I say loudly.
The guy spins around, dropping the pillow. He’s not that tall, but he’s built, broad and thick-necked, like he works out. “You’re the fag she came here with,” he sneers. “We’re talking. Leave us alone.”
I step into the room. “You’re Alex, aren’t you?” I ask quietly, raw hatred running toxic in my veins. “You’re Alex.” It has to be. My hands ball into fists.
Romy moves unsteadily off the couch. “Caleb,” she rasps, and I hold my hand out to her.
Alex steps between us. “We. Were. Talking.”
“She doesn’t look like she wants to talk to you.” I’m fighting to control my voice. Every muscle in my body is burning with the desire to lash out.
Behind him, Romy’s fingers close around a small metal sculpture sitting on an end table. Her green eyes are wide, and her expression is determined.
“I don’t care what she wants,” Alex snarls. “She—”
“You don’t care what she wants?” I shout. “I’d say that’s the fucking problem right there in a nutshell.”
That’s all it takes for him to crack. He lowers his head and lunges, and I’m not quick enough to sidestep him before he barrels into me. My shoulders and head hit the wall, but I raise my elbow drive it down into his back. He lets out a strangled roar and punches me in the stomach, doubling me over. I wrap my arms around his waist and throw all my weight on top of him, thinking only of stopping him from hurting Romy. He crashes to the floor with me on his back, his arms swinging and his legs kicking. I slam my fist into his side and he nearly smashes his heel into my face.
Which is when Romy marches over to Alex’s head and straight-up kicks him in the face.
He yowls and I get to my feet quickly, ready to put him down if he grabs for her. She’s staring at Alex, her fingers still wrapped around that metal sculpture, which probably cost more than a few month’s rent. I swear, it looks like she’s considering caving in his head with it. And I wouldn’t blame her, but I think she’d regret it tomorrow. I touch her shoulder, and she looks over at me, her expression fierce. She looks back down at him and kicks him in the ribs. He grunts.
“Listen to me, Alex,” she says with a shaking voice. “When I leave here tonight, I’m going to file a personal protection order. Nothing you do now can stop me. I’ve got a shark of a lawyer who’s going to make it stick. I’ve saved all your messages, so I have plenty of evidence. If you come near me again, you’re going to be arrested, and I will press charges. You can kiss your career goodbye. Trust me, I’m not worth that.”
“Bitch,” he mutters.
Her grip on the sculpture tightens, and I put my hand over hers, gently restraining her. Her whole body is trembling, but she stands there, her eyes blazing as he leans on the wall and clumsily gets to his feet, clutching his side.
“We’re going down to the auction,” she says to him. “If you don’t leave right now, I’m going to call the police and tell them you’ve assaulted me and Caleb. We can do this quiet or we can do it loud. I’m fine with either, so it’s up to you.”
Romy is a badass. She’s a fucking badass. It’s all I can do not to cheer for her as she stares into his eyes, daring him to try something. And he might be a loser, he might be a pathetic, abusive son of a bitch … but he’s not insane.
“I’m leaving,” he growls. “Don’t bother with the restraining order.”
“Too late. Now your choice is that or assault charges.