Page 27 of Heaven Help Me

His eyes are sparkling with anger, but his lips purse into a devilish smirk. It’s a nice one. If you like that kind of thing. I certainly don’t. Especially not on Deuce St. Legare.

He steps backward and now I can see the man in the bed. His salt-and-pepper head has swiveled our direction and the same green eyes stare at me from the white sheets beneath him. Deuce sweeps his arm in the man’s direction.

“Meet my father, Marcel. Papa, this is Landry Greer, the one I told you about.”

Marcel holds out his hand. I step forward, a little off-balance. I should have guessed this. I didn’t even ask Deuce about his father. I should have known he still lives here in Heaven. I’d heard Bettina grouse about his small-town life infecting her son often enough over the years. I slide my palm into his hand and he tugs me closer.

“Let me get a good look at ya,” he says with a weak voice, but a warm Southern twang.

My smile is wobbly but he doesn’t seem to care. His thumb strokes across the back of my hand and I can sense that he’s a genuinely kind person. Pretty much the opposite of Bettina.

“Pretty as a picture. Welcome to Heaven, Valentina,” Marcel says kindly, using my real name. “I can’t say I’m glad to see you, but now that you’re here, you be good to my son, ya hear?”

“I intend to be,” I say weakly. I actually had no such intention when I got here, but it’s sweet that Deuce has a father who cares about him. I never knew my father. “I’ll make sure he stays safe.”

Marcel smiles, but it looks weary. “I’m not worried, honey. He can take care of himself. He is also Bettina’s son, after all. I’m more fretful about you and that doctor you stole your outfit from.”

I look down at myself. I forgot I changed clothes to sneak in here. I feel a bit foolish, to be honest. Marcel gives my hand one more squeeze before dropping it.

“I think I’m almost done here if ya don’t mind waitin’ for me.”

Deuce places his hands on my shoulders and steers me away from the bedside. “Of course we’re waiting for you, Papa. Take as long as you need. I’ll let the nurses know the drip is done.”

He pushes me right out the door. He’s not exactly gentle as he pushes my backside against the wall just outside the room. He crosses his arms over his chest, back to not looking happy to see me. The toe of his dress shoe taps the linoleum floor, impatiently waiting for an explanation of why I’m here.

“You’ve been taking phone calls and being secretive about it!” I hiss, trying to defend myself. It’s a somewhat plausible reason to follow him all the way here.

“Why didn’t you just ask me?”

I screw up my face. Is he serious? “Because! It’s not like you would have told me.”

Deuce drops his arms, looking disappointed. I don’t like that look. It’s like he expected more from me and I’ve let him down. Valentina Ricci doesn’t let people down. Well, only if they deserve it. And that’s the whole point. Deuce doesn’t deserve it. He’s here taking care of his ailing father. Even I know that’s nice-guy behavior.

“You should have just asked, V. I would have told you. I keep telling you we need some trust between us, but I don’t think you’re capable.” He spins to leave, but stops. “Nice flower, by the way.”

My hands fly to my head where I still have the stupid pink flower Harlow made me wear lodged to the side of my head. My cheeks burn with humiliation. I shove the nuisance in the pocket of the white lab coat.

I watch Deuce march off to the nearest nurses’ station where they all hang on his every word, male and female alike. He interacts with people like it’s the most natural thing in the world to smile and joke and build rapport. I hover at the doorway of the treatment room as he helps his father sit up, not knowing what to do with myself or how to help or even if I want to help. Deuce patiently fans his father’s face until he feels well enough to stand up. No task is below him when it comes to his father.

It’s a side of Deuce I didn’t know he had.

Caring. Doting. Loving.

It makes my stomach feel all squishy and liquid. I’m not sure if I need to find a bathroom or if this is the feeling of guilt for following him. For not trusting him.

As he helps his father down the hallway and out of the hospital, I trail behind, wondering if maybe what Deuce said is true. Distrust is kind of my default. Has been my whole life. It’s kept me alive.

It’s kept you lonely, a little voice in the back of my head screams.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Deuce

“Goodbye, Valentina,” Papa croons softly as I lead him away from the car and help him back into his townhouse.

“Nice to meet you, Marcel,” Valentina calls out.

Papa turns at the door and shoots her a wink. It bothers me that they’ve met. Like two very separate worlds colliding, shifting everything I thought I knew about life.