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She smiled, but he could sense her apprehension. “You make me happy. I, uh . . . I don’t like being here when you’re not around.”
That had to have been hard for her to admit. “I can’t predict the future, but I’ll do anything I can for you. You’re taking a chance on me. I appreciate it, and I’m not gonna take that shit for granted.”
He pressed his lips to hers softly, and she smiled when he pulled away. “Wow.” She ran her fingers gently across his lips. “Your mouth is surprisingly sweet for saying such naughty things.”
He burst into laughter. “I think you’re delirious. How about we take a nap before you tell me I smell like sunshine or something.”
o;Was the boy okay?”
“He’s like a cockroach. I could cut his head off, and he’d still run around.”
She sighed at his unwillingness to give her a straight answer. “I know I have no right to tell you what to do, but I don’t like people being hurt because of me. If you want to blame anyone, blame me. Punish me. But please don’t keep hurting them. They didn’t do anything.”
He stared at her, his mouth hanging open. “You think I look at you that way?”
“When you attack people, it’s like you’re upset they’re messing with something that’s yours.”
He laced his fingers in his hair, tugging on a handful of the locks. “I have a problem with my temper. It’s just, I feel . . .” He hesitated, taking a deep breath. “Look, it’s not because I think you belong to me—it’s because I want you to be mine.”
Her brow furrowed. “Is there a difference?”
“That didn’t sound right. Christ, I care about you, okay? I overreact because I don’t want anyone to hurt you. And maybe that doesn’t make sense, considering I’m hurting you more than any of those assholes, but I don’t do it intentionally. You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met. You can understand me the way no one else ever could.” He scooted closer to her. “La mia bella ragazza.”
“You know I don’t know what that means,” she said, blushing from the intensity of his stare.
He ran the back of his fingers along her flushed cheek. His touch was soft, and she leaned her head in his direction. “My beautiful girl,” he said.
She took in his expression. “You think I’m beautiful?”
“I don’t think you’re beautiful, Haven. I know you are.”
His words flustered her. “You are, too.”
He smirked. “You’re saying I’m beautiful?”
She nodded. “A beautiful person.”
“I’ve been called everything under the sun, but a beautiful person was never one of them.”
* * *
Never in Haven’s life had she encountered a disaster like the one that met them downstairs. Trash was scattered throughout the rooms, beer cans and empty bottles littering the tables and counters. Food was smashed into the floor, the house smelling wretchedly like the inside of a trash can. There was broken glass in the family room, furniture moved, and things out of place.
Haven stood at the bottom of the stairs, scanning the mess, as Carmine disappeared into the laundry room. He returned with some black trash bags. “You start in the kitchen, and I’ll go deal with whatever got broken. I know not everything survived the night intact.”
“You don’t have to do this,” she said. “I can get it.”
“I know you can, Haven,” he said. “Just let me try to help.”
She went into the kitchen and cleared off the counter, hearing noises every few minutes as Carmine tossed things around the family room. She got all the cans picked up and lugged the bag over to the side of the room. She was washing the dishes when Carmine appeared, dropping a second trash bag on the floor.
“You don’t have to do those by hand,” he said. “We have a dishwasher.”
“I don’t know how to operate it.”
Carmine opened the dishwasher and pulled out the top rack. “Get your hands out of that nasty water and fill this up.”
She looked at him cautiously. Considering he couldn’t operate a washing machine, she had a feeling he didn’t know what he was doing, but she conceded and loaded it with the dishes. When it was filled, he smiled proudly—whether proud of himself or of her, she wasn’t sure.
