“I’m not kidding,” he said. “Ask me anything.”
“Where were you born?”
“Right here in Boston; it’s my home and my heart. I love the Red Sox, never miss a Pats game, live and breathe the Bruins, and scream and cheer for the Celtics. I never miss a Marathon Monday and was there the day of the bombing, though I was a mile away from it. I watched every hour of the hunt for the perpetrators on TV. This city is part of my soul.”
“It’s easy to fall in love with,” she said. “I have since I moved here.”
“And where were you born?” he asked as he released her and settled onto one of the steps. He rested his back against the metal railing, lifted his knee, and draped an arm over it.
Cassidy gulped when he looked up at her. The dim glow of the nearby streetlights illuminated the lighter brown strands in his dark hair. It also made him look younger and somehow more vulnerable, or maybe that was because he was looking at her with such hope. Her heart swelled, and it took everything she had not to throw herself into his arms and hug him.
She glanced around, but the street remained deserted except for a passing vehicle. She settled onto the stair across from him and leaned against the wrought iron railing. A spring breeze teased her hair as she told him about being born in Oregon before moving to Maine with her family and later coming to Boston to live with Kyle and Aida before Julian arrived.
They talked about their childhoods, and she was amazed to discover how similar they were… given their extremely different circumstances. She didn’t go to public school until high school, and she had nine siblings, but there were a lot of similarities.
She told him about the vast amount of love her parents shared and how that love had spread throughout her siblings and their families. When she told him about the loss of Doug and how his death left her broken and unable to sing afterward, she saw the understanding in his eyes, and he stretched his hand out to her. She took it and squeezed before releasing him.
He told her about how his father came over from Spain when he was a child and how his voice retained the faintest hint of an accent. He told her about how fluent he was in Spanish, and she melted a little when he switched between Spanish and English with ease. That voice saying those words was almost as panty-melting as his touch.
He’d never known his father’s parents as they passed away in a car accident before he was born. However, his mother’s mom was very involved in his life until she passed away in her sleep when he was sixteen. His mother never knew her father; he took off when he learned his grandma was pregnant.
And he talked about Maya. He told her about how they would make blanket forts and curl up inside them with flashlights and books for hours. He told her about how they would hop on the T and ride it to Fenway on game days. Sometimes, they’d get lucky enough to score standing-room-only tickets cheap, but a lot of times, they hung around outside the park, listening to the cheers and stuffing themselves on hot dogs from the vendors.
He told her about how they tortured each other, shared everything, and talked about their dreams. The more he spoke about Maya, the more real she felt again, and once he started, he couldn’t stop. It had been years since he had anyone to acknowledge Maya’s existence with him; it was like a floodgate opened and all his pent-up love flooded out.
And he told her about how broken and angry he felt when she vanished. How unfair and hopeless it all felt, especially since he couldn’t do much to help find her. When the reality that she was probably dead sank in, he couldn’t get out of bed for a week.
His mother, who was barely surviving at the time, came in on the seventh day, sat beside him, and cried. Dante had no idea how to react to her tears, so he simply lay there, staring at the ceiling and listening to his mother’s quiet sobs as his broken heart shattered further.
When she finished crying, she wiped her eyes and stood. “I’ve already lost one child; please don’t make me lose another.”
That was all she said before leaving. Dante lay there for another hour before he pushed himself out of bed and took a shower. Vowing to do whatever it took to bring Maya home, he joined the police academy the next day.
Cassidy blinked away the tears burning her eyes as she felt his suffering and that of his parents in his words. When she held her hand out to him, he took it. She never wanted to let him go.
They talked until the sky lightened on the horizon and their voices grew tired, but there was still so much more she yearned to learn about this man. She could talk to him every night for an eternity and never grow tired of listening to him.
“How did you become a vampire?” she asked as she stifled a yawn.
Dante ran a hand through his hair as he considered that low point in his life. “It’s not exactly something I’m proud of, but after the death of my parents, I started to drink more than I should have. I still had the police force and friends, but I didn’t have a whole lot else, and the booze helped me forget that for a time.
“One night, I was in a bar, getting drunk after my shift again, and a pretty woman approached me. We talked, I learned her name was Clora, and after an hour, she took me back to her place. When she saw my locket, she asked the story behind it. It’s not one I often shared, but I drank enough that night not to care. So I told her about Maya and that my biggest fear was dying without knowing what happened to her.
“My tale intrigued her, or at least that’s what she told me afterward. She offered me a choice; I could walk out of there the next morning with an altered memory of the true events, or she could guarantee me more time, so my fear might never come true.
“I can’t exactly tell you what my thought processes were that night—there was a lot of tequila involved—but I do remember agreeing to do whatever it took for more time, even though I didn’t know what I agreed to. I went through a whole lot of pain, woke up thirstier than I’ve ever been in my life, and I couldn’t escape the pounding hearts in the room with me.”
“Hearts?” Cassidy asked.
“While I was transitioning, Clora went out and brought back two girls for me to feed on. Thankfully, she made sure I didn’t kill them, because I’m not sure I could have controlled myself. When I finished feeding, she took them away. I stayed with her for about a month while she taught me about my new world.”
Cassidy buried the jealousy boiling inside her like rancid acid. “Then what happened?”
“I woke up one day, she was gone, and I was on my own. I’d already quit my job; I didn’t think it was a good idea to try keeping this big of a secret around a bunch of detectives.”
“Probably not.”
“I go out of my way to avoid running into someone from my past life, and so far, I’ve been successful. I’ve gotten better with my mind control, so at least they won’t remember it if I do run into someone.”
