Page 33 of Complications

“Maybe I owe you one.”

Rather than answer, I looked back out the window to study the tree line in the distance. No moose in sight, but the hazy edges of memories were front and center. At fifteen, I found out exactly what Frankie thought of me. His punch knocked me ass over end in the shed, and my fall was broken by my face into a terracotta pot. My eye was fine, but the scar that stretched across my cheek was a permanent reminder that being a dumbass left a mark. Frankie did fucking owe me one, but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of taking it, and I damn sure wasn’t gonna ask to give it.

Matteo had flatly refused to guess how long it would take before we were released from our scenic prison in purgatory. Hours would be preferred, but I’d accept a day if I were forced to name a tolerable length. If I could survive all these years working next to Frankie the Asshole, how hard would a few days be? Stay in my room and don’t talk to him? Fucking done in spades. If I lay back on the headrest, it was to rest my eyes and avoid looking at the fucker next to me.

“Where’s the next turn?”

The buzzing in my ears was annoying.

“Joey.”

Ugh, dreams were annoying.

“Joseph Virgil Carbone, wake up.”

That was enough to startle me back to consciousness.

“Don’t fucking government name me.”

“Wake up the first time, and I won’t have to.”

“What do you want?” I snarled.

“Read me the next directions. I can’t look at them and drive on these roads.” Annoyingly and with absolute calm, Frankie kept his eyes trained on the road, his long fingers wrapped around the gearshift while he hugged the curves of the winding road. We were deep in the mountains now, and the GPS signal couldn’t penetrate the dense cover.

“Fine.”

I never agreed to do it nicely. If it annoyed Frankie as much as I hoped, he didn’t have the decency to show it. Asshole. The least he could do was become a little ruffled. A little bothered. The fact that it mattered to me at all pissed me off even more. Twenty years later, and I was still aware of his every move.

“There’s a hidden driveway up on the left. Turn there.”

With ruthless efficiency, he turned off the road onto the gravel track, paused to enter the code into the discreet pad, and the heavy iron gate slid open. Frankie waited until it was secure behind him before moving farther down the road. Rather than a straight path, the road zigged and zagged through the old-growth forest before the cabin appeared.

Elio had warned that it was a simple place, but I’d expected it to be a rich kid’s version of simple, which it wasn’t at all. Nope. It really was simple. The parking pad was barely enough for us to park the SUV, and the house in front of us was so small that the two chairs crowded the front porch. It was miniature. Maybe even minuscule. Fuck me and my dumbass luck.

“Let’s get our stuff and get inside,” Frankie said quietly.

A quick glance at him confirmed he was staring at the house just like me. The only hint of his thoughts on it was his thinned lips. I knew him well enough to know it meant he was fuming. Good.

“Be careful when you get out. The drop-offs on the sides are steep.”

“I know how to get out of a car, thanks.”

“Suit yourself,” he answered with a curt nod.

With that, I jerked the door open and promptly fell down the embankment.

Goddamn motherfucking shit.

CHAPTER TWO

Frankie

“For the love of all that’s holy, just let me help you. You don’t get extra points for being as difficult as possible,” I bit out after sliding down the embankment and getting covered in dirt and twigs.

Joey still had the audacity to try and get back up the embankment while holding his bag and what was obviously a dislocated shoulder. It was beyond me how one man could be as stubborn as he was, but he never ceased to amaze me with how he stubbornly avoided anything that had to do with me. There was no doubt that I’d fucked up, but that was twenty years ago, and at some point, you’d think he’d at least speak to me again so I could apologize.

“I don’t need your goddamn fucking help. I can get up there by myself.” The anger in Joey’s voice was directed at himself, and I knew it, but I also knew he never missed a chance to take it out on me.