I can feel Lindsay disapproval stare boring a hole into the middle of my head. She stands at the doorway, watching me as I mope in her daughter’s playroom, it’s a little pathetic. I don’t even like cigarettes. But when I’m not beating someone up or committing murder, they work perfectly at making me feel less like shit.
After so many years of feeling emotionally numb, I’d rather have my heart cut out than be in this position.
Eventually my sister in law sighs. She moves to sit beside me on the floor, leaning her head against the wall. She doesn’t speak for several long seconds until I arch an eyebrow in question.
“I’m not sure how to comfort you, Rafaelle,” she states.
I scowl, “Don’t bother. I don’t need comfort.”
“How are you feeling?”
The question has my jaw clenching. What I should be feeling is anger and rage. I should want nothing more than to burn the Navarro house to the ground and possibly everyone in it. Instead, the pain in my chest continues radiating through my every pore. Reminding me of the exact moment Liliana decided to leave me.
Lindsay’s blue eyes are kind as they stare at me. I don’t reply so she continues regardless.
“It’s hard, isn’t it? Feeling so much for one person,” she murmurs.
“It feels like shit,” I agree. “But I’m sure it’ll wear off eventually.”
“That’s not how emotions work, Rafaelle. You have to deal with them and understand them before you can move past it.”
“I’m dealing with it,” I assure her. “I spent two hours in the ring yesterday and came out with three cracked ribs. I also beat Kennedys’ face into a pulp. It was fun.”
She frowns, “That’s not what I meant.”
I shrug.
Lindsay studies me for a moment. She is acting entirely too comfortable for my liking. I miss the days when she was scared of me.
"You know what your problem is?"
"I have several."
She snorts.
"You're acting like she woke up one day and decided to hurt you for fun."
I look away. Because that's exactly what it feels like. A fucking joke and I’m the butt of it.
"It doesn't matter why she did it."
"It absolutely matters."
I scoff.
"Please. Enlighten me, cognata. "
Lindsay rolls her eyes. "She cared about you."
I laugh. A harsh, ugly sound.
“You didn’t even know her.”
“Yes, but Matteo did and you know he’s almost never wrong about anything. He told me how she looked at you and you told me the things she did for you.”
“That was a mistake and I told you to forget that happened,” I murmur, thinking back to the night I was buzzed enough to spill my secrets to my sister in law.
She's looking at me like I'm a particularly stubborn child. Which, admittedly, isn't entirely inaccurate.
