Page 11 of Vow

Not that she was surprised.

It was all just stressful anyway.

This whole thing was the very definition of stress.

She opted for the coffee instead of the whiskey. She planned on calling her father after she filled her empty stomach, and she didn’t think he would appreciate hearing her sloshed. It wasn’t like he needed more things to worry about what with her mother being sick again, and all.

Once Haven had her steaming coffee in hand, she sipped from the drink as she fiddled with the knobs on the small radio in her kitchen to bring in the station she liked the most. Since she’d put the television into storage, the radio was the only thing keeping her sane during the quiet moments at night.

Music was good for the soul. The closer to the brain, the better. As far as she was concerned, anyway.

A song she didn’t like that much blasted through the speakers once she tuned into the station. Turning down the volume just a bit, Haven tried to focus on drinking her coffee, and letting go of the tension weighing down her shoulders. Very little worked lately to do that, and this was no goddamn exception.

Unfortunately.

It was only when the host came back on the radio station to announce the upcoming songs did Haven break out of her zone, and turn the radio back up. She listened to a few of the commercials—loans for cheap interest, and car salesmen with promises of great deals. She almost tuned the noise out until the host started discussing the news for the day.

Different things that happened in the city.

A major pileup on an exit ramp had caused the terrible traffic in Brooklyn—not that Haven could say she was surprised. A robbery in Hell’s Kitchen had ended with a shop owner shooting the would-be thief. A drive-by shooting in Brooklyn—

Haven’s head snapped to the side as the details of the drive-by in Brooklyn started coming through the speakers; the location of the shooting hadn’t been all that far from her club, which was what surprised her the most. She liked her location because it wasn’t a violent neighborhood. Drive-bys were not at all common.

The host spoke in a monotone which told her that he was likely reading from a paper, and not from memory. He wasn’t a news reporter or journalist, after all.

“One gunshot injury was reported at the scene,” the reporter said. “The victim, according to police, is in fair condition, and is being treated at the trauma center in Brooklyn. The victim was identified by police as Andino Marcello—they believe the drive-by to be related to the infamous Marcello family, and not a random event.”

Haven blinked.

She heard his name, that he was okay, and yet … it still felt like an echoing whisper humming through her mind all the same. An echo of fucking pain, and of fear. For him, and for herself. For her heart.

It took her far too long to realize, at the same time, that the police seemed to have no issue with outing Andino’s name to the public as the victim involved in the shooting. Not to mention, adding his family and their history into the mix like it should be used as an add-on to the fact he was shot.

Like that was the only reason why.

It was shocking.

And infuriating.

Haven’s anger was only a backdrop, though.

Her fear was far more present.

THREE

“Stop hovering,” Andino snapped.

His mother didn’t stop, though. She barely even gave him one of her looks for his tone, actually. Guilt compounded in his chest even as she quietly moved to fix the pillow on his bed that he wasn’t even using, for Christ’s sake.

All she wanted to do was love him, and help. All he could do was act like a spoiled little shit.

Andino was quick to grab his mother’s hand before she could move away from his bedside. With a little tug, she turned her attention on him. There, he saw the fear she’d been hiding with her silence and gaze turned away from him. There, he saw her pain.

“I’m sorry, Ma,” he said.

Kim pressed her lips together into a thin line, and nodded. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay. I’m just … edgy.”