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“I don’t know.” It was the truth; he had no idea how to handle the situation. “I considered sending her to Chicago.”
“We would’ve taken her.” He looked at Celia skeptically, and she smiled. “I would’ve convinced Corrado somehow.”
Vincent doubted even Celia could have talked him into getting involved. He’d been refusing to intervene for years, and Vincent couldn’t blame him. It was a disaster.
“It doesn’t matter now. I missed my window of opportunity.”
“Vincent, you’re a fool if you believe you ever had a window of opportunity.”
He didn’t respond. There was nothing to say. His sister was right, but he didn’t want to admit it.
He’d known for a while what was happening. He’d feared the worst that first morning until he heard what his son said when he let go of Haven’s wrist. It was such a simple word, a word most people used needlessly, but a powerful word to people like them. It was something Carmine hadn’t said since he was an innocent eight-year-old child, ignorant of the world’s troubles, but he’d uttered it that morning so casually, so nonchalantly, that Vincent wondered if he knew what he was saying.
The word was sorry.
It was a word even Vincent couldn’t bring himself to say. His sister would say he was a good man, a decent man with a heart full of compassion, and Maura would have said the same thing. She never saw the evil inside him. Neither of them did.
When his wife was stolen from him, the blackness took over. He became possessed by it, consumed by anger and guilt. No matter how many people he killed in his quest for vengeance, his thirst for blood never went away. That timid brown-haired girl, the one his youngest had grown fond of, almost became a casualty in his need for retaliation.
Vincent pulled away from Celia and sat down, rubbing his face in frustration. Celia sat across from him and laughed. “It’s cute how slick they think they are. Reminds me of how you and—”
“Stop!” he said. Celia cut off midsentence and playfully pretended to zip her lips. “There’s nothing cute about any of this.”
“Oh, come on. It is cute! And why can’t you let them be?”
“You know why,” he said. “You can’t honestly think it’s smart for them to be together.”
Celia glared at him. “Shouldn’t that be their decision?”
“They don’t know any better.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Maybe you should explain. Tell him the truth.”
He laughed bitterly. “The truth, Celia? Exactly which truth are you talking about? Do you want me to tell him all of it, even the part that’s going to hurt? He’s a lot like me now, and you have to admit there’s a possibility he might snap. Carmine and I barely have a relationship as it is, and this could ruin the last bit we have left. Is that what you want?”
“You know it’s not.”
“Right, you want me to tell him enough of the truth to make him believe it’s okay for them to be together, but I can’t mislead him with bits and pieces. It’s all or nothing.”
She frowned. “I wish there was a way.”
“I know,” he said. “I’ve been trying to find some middle ground in the whole thing, but I’m not seeing a way out of this. I know what I’m supposed to do, but the potential wrath that might come down on us is too much to bear. Not to mention it would be throwing the girl to the wolves. And if that happens, I can’t imagine the lengths my son will go to for her.”
“You can’t dwell on the what-ifs, Vincent.”
“I always dwell on them,” he said. “I barely sleep at night, wondering how one little thing could have changed it all. What if I hadn’t taken Maura that weekend? What if we had gone earlier? What if we had gone later? Why did we have to be at that exact spot at that exact moment?”
“If that day hadn’t happened, that girl outside would be dead. You’re saving her, and she’s healing him.”
He shook his head. “If we hadn’t been there, Celia, my son wouldn’t need to be healed.”
Vincent would never forget the day that started it all, and how he felt driving down that long, vacant road in the desert for the first time. He’d been miserable, sweat dripping from his brow. The car was completely silent besides the sound of the rumbling engine. Maura knew he hated the silent treatment. He’d rather be yelled at than for her to sit there as she was, staring out the window with that blank expression on her face.
He had no idea, as he slammed his hands against the steering wheel, that it was just the beginning of a vexing day. “If you don’t say something, Maura, I’m going to spontaneously combust.”
She exhaled sharply but still said nothing.
“What do you want me to do? Huh? It’s my responsibility!”
