I glance at Rafe. “Pretty big trade-offs, don’t you think? Let’s just be honest about it for once. The people we love? They’re never truly safe. There’s always a target on our backs, which means there’s a target on theirs.”
“Would you throw yourself in front of a bullet to save Blake?”
“Of course. I wish I'd had the opportunity to do that when Ekaterina shot her.”
“You think the average person has someone who’s willing to do that for them? I know this life is hard, Nero, but don’t be so fucking arrogant to think we’ve got it worse than everyone else. Sure, there’s always a target on our backs, but we have armies to protect the ones we love. We move mountains to keep them safe.”
I stay silent, absorbing his words.
“That man you’ve always wanted to be? A protector, a provider, a man who people respect? You are him, but not because you’re a mobster. Not because of some fucking label. How many made guys do you know who aren’t any of those things? You are that man because of your character and your actions. And I’m pretty fucking sure Blake can see that.”
“Then why did she leave?”
“Maybe she just needs some time to process what happened. Maybe it’s not over yet.”
I huff a breath. “I don’t need to torture myself with false hope.”
“Have a little faith.”
“You know I’m a fucking atheist.”
Rafe tsks. “Your nonna would be disappointed. Did Blake leave with her wedding ring still on?”
I think back to this morning. “She did.”
“Then maybe she’s not as sure about what she wants as you think.”
I pull my hand out of my pocket and look at my own gold wedding band. The one I put on myself at the jewelry store when I bought it along with Blake’s diamond band.
I wish Blake had slid it on my finger. I wish she'd smiled at me while she did it. I wish she’d kissed me afterward and said she loves me.
Too bad wishing for things doesn’t make them real.
CHAPTER 38
NERO
Rafe drops me off at home and tells me to call him if I need anything.
I check my phone. No missed calls since Alessio this morning. Not even an angry phone call from Gino. I wonder how he reacted when Alessio told him I didn’t show up. Maybe he’s cutting me some slack because my wife got shot during a mission he sent us on, but I’m not under any fucking illusions.
He’ll expect me back on duty soon. Tomorrow, or the next day.
But not tonight.
With a groan, I sink into the sofa. I’ve drunk enough today, but the itch is still there. The whiskey bottle glares at me from across the room, daring me.
I try to resist. I really do. But after a few minutes, I give in and pour myself another glass. I take a long swig. I want the burn to chase away the edges of despair gnawing at my insides, but it doesn't work. The alcohol doesn't numb me the way it used to. The pain is still there, sharp and unyielding.
As I lift the glass to my lips again, Rafe’s words echo in my mind.
“You pushed her away prematurely in case she chose to leave. You probably thought it’d make your pain easier to handle—which is bullshit, by the way."
I lower the glass and stare at the oscillating liquid. Was I really that fucking blind? Blake had been trying to tell me something, something I’d dismissed because I couldn’t—or wouldn’t—face it.
She’d been afraid of what she was becoming—afraid that loving me, being with me, was changing her into someone she didn’t recognize. And instead of facing that fear with her, I let her face it alone.
The thought slices through me like a blade.
