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“They’re blood but blood doesn’t mean shit if your family tries to kill you.”
I bit my lip. Of course, that was true, but I doubted Gianna and Isabella, or any of the other women in the Famiglia had known about the ambush plans.
“The Famiglia played dirty and so did we.”
I imagined how Gianna and Isabella must have felt. “Would you really have hurt them?” I wanted to believe that Nevio, Massimo and Alessio had only put on a show, that they they wouldn’t have hurt Gianna and Isabella no matter what had happened.
Nevio’s smile hardened and his eyes gave me an answer before his mouth did, “If you go into war as a player, you need to be willing to play it to the end. A bluff is a risk, especially if so much is on the line.”
I nodded. It wasn’t the answer I wanted, but it was the answer I’d expected. I knew Dad, too, would have done anything to protect Mom and me. “I’m glad you didn’t follow the rules. It was really scary. I thought we’d all die.”
Nevio shook his head. “This was a good reminder to stay on our toes. It won’t happen again. You don’t have to worry, Rory.”
The way he looked at me with absolute conviction, I believed him.
“It’s tragic. This must be hard for Greta.”
“That’s what you get when you let emotions run your life.”
A week had passed since the disastrous wedding. I relived the car chase every night, the panic and fear, but my nightmare always ended with Nevio sweeping in like a dark knight and saving us. Well, in my dreams he saved me, carried me off in his arms and then kissed me.
Carlotta gave me an amused look. “You’re daydreaming again. Only you can turn a nightmarish event into an anti-hero tale.”
“Anti-hero?” I said. My cheeks burned as I once again regretted telling Carlotta about my dream even if we usually shared everything. Carlotta didn’t have a crush on anyone, and she’d never really had one. Maybe that was why she couldn’t understand my inability to act like a capable human being the moment Nevio was around.
She opened her eyes wide, as if her big green doll eyes weren’t already striking enough. “He’s not the hero in this story, or any story, Rory, even if your dreams say otherwise.”
“Shhh,” I hissed, glancing over my back at the guys. Nevio, Alessio and Massimo perched on the banister at the top of the half pipe and watched how my brother raced down the pipe with a howl. Then Giulio followed, as usually doing a stunt that was still too hard for him and slammed into the pipe. He seemed to see Davide as his role model, often forgetting that my brother was much older than him.
Giulio’s knee and elbow were burst but he got up with a grin as if nothing had happened. Nevio gave him a thumbs-up. Then our gazes met, and he rolled his eyes at his own brother. I grinned and shrugged then quickly looked back to Carlotta.
She pressed her lips together and sent me a look that said “get-a-grip”. Being around Nevio used to be easier. I’m not exactly sure when it became a major effort for me not to make a fool out of myself. The first time it really hit home that I was hopelessly and embarrassingly in love with him was in the night of Greta and Nevio’s eighteenth birthday when she snuck into my bathroom and Nevio later followed. Even Greta noticed it that night and that said a lot about my inability to chill around him considering Greta wasn’t overly perceptive when it came to emotions.
Since then, I had to pay extra attention to act normal around Nevio and I’d obviously failed once more judging by Carlotta’s expression.
I grabbed my skateboard and climbed up the pipe. Skating always cleared my head. And no matter how stupid I acted around Nevio, it never affected my skateboarding. I was cool as a cucumber when I threw myself down the ramp.
I reached up for my necklace, then realized that it was no longer there. Today was the first time I skated since I’d left it in New York. The first day that had felt almost normal since war had become our new normal. I lowered my hand and released a small sigh. Normal had never been harder to achieve.
I made a mental note to talk to Greta today. I’d been caught up in my own trauma and knowing her tendency to deal with problems herself, I hadn’t wanted to push her into a girl-talk she probably didn’t even want.
I briefly caught Nevio’s gaze who was no longer in deep conversation with the other guys but watching me intently. This was the first time we hung out together since that day. He too seemed oddly normal.
I gave him a brief nod then focused on my skateboard and the ramp. I let myself drop, my feet firmly on the board. The air tore at my ponytail and T-shirt, tugging it from my dungarees. I raced up the other end of the ramp and did one of my favorite tricks, one I always got right no matter how bad of a day I’ve had, a backside nosepick.
I did a few other tricks I was really good at. Today was a day for my comfort tricks. I preferred to work on the more advanced tricks on feel-good days or with less people around, especially the noseblunt slide was still giving me major problems so I needed to be in the right mindset for it. I had a feeling it would take a few weeks for me to reach that mindset again.
When I finished my routine without a hiccup, Nevio let out a whistle and applauded.
“Show off,” Davide muttered, but his expression told me he was actually proud of me.
I gave a small shrug. I hadn’t meant to brag. This wasn’t a difficult routine for me but I couldn’t help but grin at their praise.
It had taken a long time for me to feel comfortable on a skateboard but more importantly in a skate park. I had been the first girl in our circles with an interest in skating and always felt like the odd one out when I’d joined the boys. Many had made teasing remarks, as if me being a girl made it impossible to be good at skating. Boys in our circles were often caught up in the Middle Age with their thoughts. Nevio, however, had never made a big deal out of me skateboarding. He treated men and women the same way, from what I heard even when it came to his kills. It was a thought I didn’t like to dwell on.
Maybe Nevio had that opinion because his dad always said “women should stop thinking and acting like the weaker sex if they don’t want to be treated that way”.
Carlotta smiled broadly. She joined me at the skate park most days, even if she didn’t skate herself. Her brother Diego considered it too risky because of her heart condition, though she hadn’t had any troubles in a long time. I thought Carlotta wasn’t too sad about it anyway. She was a girly girl, who preferred art, dancing and music to most sports.
