Page 115 of Made in Love and Blood

Something changed in his expression, and his eyes. A darkness seemingly carved into the planes of his face like she’d never seen.

“I thought I knew what I wanted,” he murmured, “but I don’t think I ever did.”

“What do you mean? Like, me—”

“No.” His fingers bit into her thighs, making her breath catch. “Hell no.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t worry about it. Tonight is not the time for that conversation, because I haven’t even unpacked what it really means to me. I’ve only just realized recently how much my perspective has changed in certain areas of my life. Priorities change. It is what it is.”

“What about your brother, or his...friend? Did you talk to them?”

“Carcoli?” Nico scoffed. “No, just viewed from a respectable distance. Gasoline and fire, me and them. Not the time or place.”

“He’s...a lot different than you.”

“Marco?” he asked.

She nodded. “Scary almost.”

Nico licked his lips, taking her statement in before properly replying. “Bullet meet gun. With us, you never know which one is which. People only figure out I’m exactly the same—scary like that—when it’s too late. You know with Marco straightaway. We’re two sides of the same coin, I think. Both of us wanted the same things for a large part of our lives, and maybe he still wants some of it, but we made different choices to get there. It’s why he is who he is, and so am I.”

“Like what?”

“Well, we both wanted Dad to love us, for one. And trust me when I say, that’s the easiest part of the mess between him and I to deal with.”

Her teeth found her inner cheek because she could tell he didn’t want to talk about it, and so she let the conversation go. They could get back to it another time like so many other things between them. She didn’t mind.

“Okay, help me down here. I’ve got to get back.”

He stood up and backed up before helping her down. She put away the lidocaine spray but paused to watch Nico in the mirror behind her when she straightened to her full height again.

“I don’t know,” he said, like he was scrolling on his phone and not gazing upon the swell of her backside, “but I don’t think you need the heels for that ass, Frankie.”

Heat washed her cheeks.

“What was that shit earlier about periods and weight, anyway?”

Her blush deepened for a different reason now. “How much of that did you hear?”

“Enough that I’m concerned.”

“Fuck off,” Frankie muttered, turning around fast to leave and poking him with two fingers against his chest, “eavesdropping is a bad habit of yours, Nico.”

“Hey.”

He slammed the bathroom door closed before she could leave and snatched her right back to her spot locked with her back against the vanity. His hands found the edge of the counter, holding tight and locking her in as he leaned closer. Something akin to fury, but it looked a lot like passion, too, found her in his unwavering stare.

“Fucking right I worry about you,” he said low and dark, “ever since I watched you do to yourself what you did that night. Did you think I brought you those cinnamon rolls you like from a place thirty minutes out of my way every night I showed up at your place for nothing? Oh, and that iced coffee I bring you in the mornings? Vanilla protein powder added, every single time. Girl, if I ever find out you’re doing that shit to yourself again, you and me are gonna be reevaluating what we want together. Do you hear me?”

She did all she could, nod.

His hands found her face then, and he pressed kiss after kiss to her jaw, chin, and lips until she started kissing him back. He caught the single tear that fell from her eyelashes with the pad of his thumb, swiping it away before it could do any damage.

“None of that,” he joked, “or Carina will have my head.”

She ignored that.