AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Not wanting to appear to be eavesdropping, Haven took a step away and quietly gazed at the headstone that marked his mother’s grave.
Maura DeMarco
April 1965–October 1996
“Ama, ridi, sogna—e vai dormire”
She had only been thirty-one, too young to be ripped from the world. Dr. DeMarco had lived more than a decade without his wife. Haven couldn’t begin to imagine how he had felt waking every morning to face the realization that he would never have it back, he would never feel the spark again.
“Sorry about that,” Carmine said, interrupting her thoughts. ”It was—”
“I don’t need to know,” Haven cut him off, but she heard him mutter Corrado’s name regardless.
An awkward silence lingered before Carmine sighed. “Ama, ridi, sogna—e vai dormire,” he said, reading the line chiseled into the stone. ”It means ‘Love, laugh, dream, and go to sleep’.”
Haven smiled softly. “I like that.”
“Me, too,” he mumbled, a sad smile tugging his lips. “That’s what she did.”
“She was an amazing woman.”
“She was. Too bad I couldn’t take after her more. Instead, I’m like him.” Tears brimmed his eyes, sudden anger flowing out with those words. “Vincent DeMarco’s son, so that makes me the fucking enemy. As much as I hate it, it’s true. I’m one of them.”
“You aren’t.”
“I am. You don’t even fucking know.” He shook his head. “You wouldn’t be able to look at me if you knew.”
“You only did what you had to do.”
“You don’t even know what I’ve done,” he said. “What I’ve stood by and watched without saying a goddamn word. I’ve watched people die and kept my mouth shut like they didn’t matter, like they didn’t fucking count. What kinda person does that?”
“Me,” Haven said quietly. “Did you forget about Frankie killing that girl? Number 33—that’s all I know about her, a number written on a piece of paper someone stuck to her. She’s dead and I don’t even know her name. I never did anything to help her.”
He shook his head. “That’s different.”
“How?”
“He would’ve fucking killed you.”
“Are you saying they won’t kill you if you don’t go along with it?”
“It’s still not the same,” he said, the aggravation clear in his voice. “You were born into it, but I chose this life. I chose to be this fucking person.”
“For me,” she said. “If nothing else, that makes you good.”
“Good,” he sneered. “They talked today about how good my father was, about all the people he helped, but what about the bad? He helps a few people and suddenly all the ones he hurt are forgotten? What about what he did to you? What about what he did to me? He opened fire on a house and I had to see that shit! Then he . . . then he fucking tried to . . .”
He shook as he fought for control, on the verge of hyperventilating. Haven rubbed his back, her tears steadily falling. He hurt, and she had no idea how to make it any better.
“He’s gone,” Carmine said after a moment. “He went out in a blaze of glory, and I can’t help but hate him for it because now he’s gone, too! And the worst part is that I wasn’t surprised, because he did exactly what I would’ve done. I would’ve killed every single one of those motherfuckers. I’m just like my goddamn father.”
Haven grabbed his arm to calm him down, his moods shifting so quickly she had a hard time keeping up. He shrugged away from her, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a silver metal flask.
Bringing it to his lips, he closed his eyes and shuddered as he took a drink. “I owe you a lot of apologies, but sorry doesn’t seem good enough.”
“Your intentions were always good,” Haven said, not liking his self-loathing. Based on his demeanor, he had been beating himself up for a while.
“How’s that saying go—the road to hell is paved with good intentions? Makes sense, I guess, since I’m heading that way.”
