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“So you’re Vincenzo,” Logan says, running his hand down my cousin’s arm. “Normally, I’ll never share Mama Murphy’s cookies, but you can have some.”
I raise an eyebrow, waiting for Enzo to remove Logan's hand, preferably without breaking any of his fingers in front of Alexander, but my cousin does nothing of the sort. He simply lowers his gaze to where Logan is touching him with mild annoyance before he looks back up at him. He eventually steps away without uttering a word and heads out of the living room.
Logan gathers the cookies and follows Enzo out of the room, looking delighted. I turn to Alexander, who’s avoiding looking in my direction, his fingers worrying at the hem of his shirt.
I close the distance between us before speaking. “So, you’re at the university?”
He finally lifts his eyes to mine. “I knew you’d be mad if I told you I wasn’t in New York.”
“Let’s go.”
He follows me out of the house without another word, and we find Enzo and Logan standing beside my BMW, glaring at each other.
I unlock the car and open the passenger door for Alexander. “Get in.”
“We drove here,” he says, pointing at his old Volvo parked a short distance away, the keys dangling from his fingers.
I take one look at the car before snatching the keys from his hand and tossing them toward Logan, who catches them easily. “Drive it back with Enzo.”
“What the fuck, dude?” Enzo complains, straightening away from the car.
I pay him no attention and usher Alexander into the passenger seat and shut the door.
By the time I round the hood and climb behind the wheel, Alexander has fastened his seat belt and is sitting with his hands folded in his lap, looking determined to take up as little space as possible.
“I’m sorry,” he says as I start the engine.
I shake my head, watching through the windshield as Logan pulls the Volvo away from the curb. “You’ll be more than sorry, little stripper,” I tell him, keeping my voice low as I turn toward him. “I am not angry you visited your mother, but I am furious you lied.”
Alexander swallows audibly, his fingers tightening around each other before he lowers his gaze to his lap. “I’m sorry,” he repeats.
I turn my attention back to the road, but a moment later, I feel his fingers close around my injured hand. I glance down, watching as he lifts it between both of his. “What happened?” he asks in a soft voice, his thumb hovering near the gauze.
Something inside me loosens at the concern in his voice, and I flex my fingers, feeling the bandage pull against the split skin as I look at the way his smaller hands cradle mine.
“Smacked someone with a lip ring across the face.”
Alexander nods, but doesn't ask any more questions. He releases my hand and sits properly while I start the engine and begin the drive back to New York. The journey passes faster than the drive to Trenton.When I park in front of his apartment building in Brownsville, there's no sign of his Volvo. I glance at the time before dialing Enzo's number. The call rings out without an answer, and when Alexander sends Logan a message, he doesn’t reply either.
“Come in, I have first aid,” Alexander says, glancing at my hand as he unfastens his seat belt.
He leads me into his apartment, and I inspect the place as we walk through the living room. The renovations have turned out reasonably well and everything appears to be in order. The apartment is empty, and the only sounds accompanying us are our footsteps. When we reach his room, he gestures for me to wait before hurrying into the bathroom. I sit on the edge of his mattress, resting my injured hand on my thigh while I glance around the room. Alexander returns a moment later carrying a first-aid box, which he places beside me before moving close enough to take my hand.
He begins removing the gauze Davide wrapped around my knuckles, carefully unwinding the bandage where it has loosened before slowing when he reaches the sections that have stuck to the dried blood. He takes a sterile gauze pad from the box and dampens it with saline before gently cleaning the blood from the surrounding skin. The cool liquid stings when it enters the cuts, but I don’t react, more interested in the way Alexander keeps holding my hand as he works, his thumb resting lightly against my palm to keep it steady.
He leans closer to inspect the wounds once they're clean, his hair falling over his forehead as he turns my hand toward the light. His lips press together in concentration as he places a small nonstick pad over the split skin and secures it with medical tape, smoothing the edges carefully before wrapping a clean bandage around my hand.
Unlike Davide's hurried attempt, Alexander makes certain the gauze sits comfortably over my knuckles, checking that I can still bend my fingers without pulling too tightly against the dressing. The entire process takes only a few minutes, but he doesn't release my hand immediately, turning it over once more to inspect his work before finally looking up at me.
“You’re all good,” he says, his fingers lingering on my hand. “It should heal in a few days.”
I lower my gaze to our joined hands, feeling the warmth of his fingers against my palm as something strange stirs in my chest. I withdraw my hand, flexing my newly bandaged fingers as I get to my feet and leave without a backward glance.
Chapter
Eighteen
ALEX
