Page 103 of Always: A Legacy Novel

Cross walked on past his step-father, ready for a nap.

“You need to speak with your mother—apologize for worrying her.”

“Fine.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed one of these days,” Calisto said behind him.

“As long as I die doing something that I love, seems worth it.”

“Things like Catherine Marcello?”

Cross’s shoulders tensed, and he stopped walking away. “Pardon?”

“You know Wolf has a GPS on Zeke’s car, right? I know exactly where you were all weekend, Cross.”

He turned to face his step-father. “It’s Zeke’s car.”

“That Wolf bought. Although, he only reactivated the GPS when Zeke said you snatched the keys and left.”

“Why didn’t you come get me, then, if you knew where I was?”

“Seems you need to learn these lessons on your own,” Calisto murmured, “because nothing I say or do is getting through, son.”

Cross lifted his arms wide, and smirked. “Here I am, perfectly fine.”

“This time, sure. Next time, though …” Calisto shook his head, adding, “You can act beyond your age all you want. You can behave as a grown man would all you want, but you’re still not, Cross. But when you choose the behavior of an adult, you’re going to deal with adult consequences when you’re caught. I hope you realize that.”

“Still worth it.”

“I wish you could hear yourself.” Calisto scratched at his jaw and asked, “Is that it, you love the girl, and that makes acting like a foolish boy worth it to you?”

“Shit, I think I’ve always loved her.”

And hell yeah, that was exactly why it made it worth it.

Catherine had only ever seen her mother dress down a few times in her life. Once, when her father had served a thirty-day sentence; Catrina barely left the house. When she did, she was not dressed in her usual name brand, luxury dresses, nor did she do her makeup or put very much effort into her hair.

Dressing down for Catrina Marcello still meant looking good. Of course. Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses, skinny jeans, boots worth more than most people’s monthly incomes, and a blouse covered by a three thousand dollar jacket.

The only other time Catherine could remember her mother dressing down?

On holiday mornings, and when they visited the DMV.

Catrina sighed, and shifted in the hard plastic seat as they waited. “God, this place is awful.”

“How much longer do we have to be here?” Catherine asked.

“Until they finish scoring your test, although that should have been done thirty goddamn minutes ago.”

“Do you think I failed?”

Catrina snorted, not even bothering to hide her amusement. “You’ve spent the last month studying for your permit, Catherine. You can recite the book forward and backwards. You didn’t fail.”

“Then what’s taking so long?”

“It’s the DMV. Why else? It’s their job to make you wait.”

And that, Catherine suspected, was why her mother always dressed down when they were forced to pay a visit to the DMV.