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Carmine didn’t know what he’d expected to hear, but that wasn’t it. “You saw a girl die? Is that the worst thing you’ve seen?”
“Maybe. I’ve seen a lot.”
“Like?”
She averted her eyes. “Like my mama being raped.”
As much as those words sickened him, Carmine was immensely grateful for whatever pharmaceutical company cranked out those potent little yellow pills that made her open up. “That’ll never happen to you here. You know that, right?”
She nodded but didn’t appear to be convinced.
“Look, sex can be great between people who want it, but I’d never touch a girl unless she wanted me to. None of us would. That’s wrong.”
“Do you love those girls you touch?”
“No.” He felt bad about admitting that.
“Have you ever been in love?”
He stared at her, unsure of how to answer. “I don’t know. I’m still figuring out what love is.”
“Me, too,” she said. “It’s confusing.”
He pursed his lips in thought. Could she feel what he felt? He couldn’t ask her, though. Even if she said yes, he couldn’t be sure it wasn’t drug-induced.
Leaning back on the bed, Carmine stared up at the ceiling as Haven spoke, her words slurring from exhaustion. “Carmine? What’s the worst thing you’ve seen?”
He contemplated whether to answer. It was a story he’d never told anyone. His family knew the technical parts, the shit that made the newspaper, but he never talked about what he saw.
Could he tell her?
He looked at her and smiled when he saw her eyes closed, lips parted as she lay there, fast asleep. He would have told her, he realized. He would have told her everything.
* * *
When Haven woke up, muscles throbbed she hadn’t been aware of. The intoxicating scent of cologne invaded her lungs, assaulting every cell in her body when she took a deep breath. It reminded her of the smell of the air in Blackburn when a storm came and it rained for two days.
Haven sat up, needing to clear her head, and stretched her back as Carmine retrieved a bottle of Tylenol. He sat down and gave her the pills before grabbing a half-full bottle of water from his nightstand. “I promise I don’t have any diseases.”
o;How did she know what?”
“How did she know your window opened, Carmine? Because it’s my house, and I didn’t know!”
Carmine turned back to the window. Oh, shit. “Where is she?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
His father stared at him hard. “Why?”
Carmine blanched. Why? “Because it does. You’re a lot of things, Dad, but . . . Christ, this? I didn’t think you were this fucked up!”
Vincent’s eyes narrowed. “Do you have something to say?”
“Yeah. Nothing’s gonna bring her back.”
Vincent’s calm mask slipped. “What?”
