Page 30 of Thin Lines (Donati Bloodlines 2)

“You always make sense, Calisto. Even in yourramblings.”

“People are supposed to learn from their mistakes.”

“They are,” the priest confirmed.

“So why haven’t I learned from mine?”

Father Day let out a quiet sigh. “Sometimes, there aremen who need to walk the wrong road several times over before they find thesmall path that links them to a new one. The right one. As for this … grieving… you mentioned.”

“Hmm?” Calisto asked. “What about it?”

“No one but you gets to decide how you grieve forsomething, be it imaginary or real. If you feel like you lost something, thenmaybe you did. There’s nothing wrong with giving yourself the chance to healand move on from that.”

“It wasn’t mine to have in the first place,” Calistosaid.

Father Day’s smile evaporated. “You’re still allowedto grieve.”

“Am I?”

“Of course, my son.”

Father Day stood from the pew and patted a hand onCalisto’s knee as he straightened fully. Calisto was still rolling the rosarybeads between his fingers, calmer than before and a little more settled in hismind.

“You can stay and be by yourself for as long as youneed,” Father Day told him.

Calisto shrugged. “I’m good. I have business to do.”

After the incident last week with the Irish leaving oneof Affonso’s Capo’s men dead in an alleyway, the streets were as tense as theyhad ever been. Calisto had some collecting to do, money-wise. He didn’t trustthe Irish as far as he could throw them, but Affonso had assured his famigliathat the Jersey family had backed off a bit.

Enough for the streets to be safe.

Bullshit.

This life was never safe.

Calisto stared down at the small cross in his hand.The only safe place was right where he was sitting. He still had a job to do.

“Keep that for a while,” the priest said, bringingCalisto from his thoughts.

Calisto’s gaze snapped up. “The rosary?”

“Mmhmm. Keep it. It helps you.”

“It’s yours.”

“Consider it a loan.”

Calisto laughed darkly. “In my business, loans neverend well.”

The priest smiled. “Good thing this is my businessthen, hmm?”

Who could argue with that?

Calisto

It seemed like in no time at all, June had jumpedstraight to July, and then July jumped into August without warning. By the timeSeptember rolled around, Calisto was sure he was just walking around in abubble, unaware of the seasons changing around him.

Fall was Calisto’s favorite time of year. He enjoyedthe colors of the leaves—burned,bright, or dulled—and he could spend hours watching them fall from the trees inthe park on a windy day. Fall wasn’t too hot, and it wasn’t too cold.