Page 313 of John + Siena: The Complete Duet

Lucia eyed the folded up piece of paper. “What is it?”

“A better apology.”

His sister plucked the paper from his hand, but never took her gaze off him all the while. It was almost like she thought he was going to jump out and snatch the paper back, or some kind of nonsense.

Lucia unfolded the four squares of the paper, and silently read over the information. He saw the way her gaze flicked back and forth—how her fingers tightened to crumple the edges of the paper, and the way her eyes filled up with tears all over again.

“You don’t have to say anything,” John told her. “Not thank you, or fuck you, or anything, Lucia.”

“Does Dad know you got this for me?” she asked.

John shook his head. “Nope. It’s also not about Dad. It’s about us. Sometimes, I think Dad just worries too much about us. He wants us to be safe, and happy, and fulfilled. In the process, his protective nature sometimes smothers us, too. And that’s just Dad—he is who he is, and we have to love him regardless, Lucia.”

“I do love Daddy, but—”

“You’re angry with him, too.”

A single tear dropped down Lucia’s cheek, but she didn’t move to wipe it away. “So fucking mad, John.”

“It’s cliché, kiddo, but what’s meant to be, will be, and fuck the rest.” John pointed at the paper, and said, “There’s your lifeline, Lucia. You want to talk to Renzo—you want to know? He’s right there. I’m sorry it’s not more.”

Lucia clenched the paper harder, and looked up at her brother. “This is perfect, John.”

He smiled. “That’s all I wanted to—”

His words cut off when a scream filled The Annex. A terrified scream that was accompanied by several other shrill shrieks. People began to scatter like horrified rats shoved in a very small space. One shoved John, which caused him to ram into Lucia. He grabbed hold of his sister with a fucking death grip to keep her from being shoved to the ground.

“What is happening?” Lucia asked.

John had no idea.

Another shrill scream echoed.

Someone shouted, “She’s got a gun!”

John’s blood ran cold. He didn’t have any reason to think this was an attack on him, or Siena, but for some reason, he just … knew.

It had to be.

His luck had run out.

“Don’t fucking move,” he told his sister when he shoved her behind a vendor tent.

“John!”

“Don’t move!”

John didn’t look back as he darted in the direction that everybody was now running from. The same direction that Siena had went in earlier to get his fucking jam.

Jesus Christ.

For jam.

He would be lucky if he could ever put the shit in his mouth again after today. At the moment, it only made him want to vomit at just the thought alone.

John rammed through the oncoming people—he barely heard their shouts of terror, and he faintly registered the fear on their faces. He was laser focused on one thing, and one thing only. He didn’t care about anybody else at the moment.

Siena. Siena. Siena.