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Neither spoke during the drive. So much time had passed that Haven knew it would be impossible for them to just pick up where they had left off, unrealistic to expect to have back exactly what they had once shared. It was still there, though, buried beneath the surface. It would take time to unearth it and nurse it back to health.
If he was willing to try, that was.
They made their way into the Morettis’ house when they arrived. Carmine was on edge, his hands shoved into his pockets and body tense. He kept his head down, retreating further into himself with each step. He walked inside without knocking, stopping in the foyer. She stepped in behind him and saw Corrado standing by the bottom of the stairs.
He glanced at his watch. “Thirty-nine minutes.”
Late.
An animated voice carried through the hallway as they headed toward the living room. Haven smiled at the familiarity, recognizing Dominic. Carmine paused in the doorway and she stopped behind him, glancing past him nervously. The large room was packed with people and she spotted Dia right away, sitting on the couch. Tess was beside her but mostly blocked from view by Dominic, who stood directly in front of her. Celia sat in a chair near the door beside an older woman.
There were at least two dozen others, people Haven didn’t recognize, but each of them listened intently as Dominic spoke. He told a story about a fishing trip they went on when they were children, about how Carmine had dumped out all of the worms they had caught the night before.
Gazing at Carmine, Haven saw no flicker of emotion in his face, no recognition as Dominic recounted the story. He stood tensely right inside the doorway, his hands still shoved in his pockets with his head down. Haven realized then, looking at him, that he knew exactly how she had felt on her own. He knew what it felt like to stand in a crowded room, surrounded by people, yet feel utterly alone.
Haven slid her arms under his from behind, shoving her hands in his pockets with his. She laced their fingers together as she laid her head against his back. Carmine didn’t move or speak, but his body relaxed from the contact.
Stories were shared, one after another, until the room grew quiet, a somber feeling taking over as no one seemed to know what else to say. Haven pulled away from Carmine and felt him tense again as she cleared her throat. “I think I have something to share.”
“Twinkle Toes!” Dominic bounded across the room the second he noticed her and pulled her into a hug. “I’m glad you’re here!”
“Put her down, Dominic,” Tess said sternly.
Dominic put Haven back on her feet, smiling sheepishly. Dia and Tess both said hello to her before Celia chimed in. “Go on, Haven. I’d love to hear what you have to say about Vincent.”
Not everyone seemed as confident as Celia about hearing Haven speak. Corrado watched her apprehensively and she noticed a few others were, too, all of them likely aware of what Dr. DeMarco had done to her.
“About a year and a half ago, when I was living in Charlotte, I wasn’t doing so well. I guess you could say I was, uh . . . homesick.” She glanced at Dia, who smiled knowingly. “I wanted nothing more than to run back to what was familiar to me, and Dr. De—err, Vincent knew that. I hit bottom one night and did something stupid out of desperation, and he came to talk to me. He said he knew I was scared but that I needed to give life a chance. He told me to show those who had doubted me that they were wrong, that I was strong enough to make it, and after I did, if I was still homesick, he’d help me find my way home. He promised when I was ready he’d help me, even if it was the last thing he did.”
inced. “Don’t say that, Carmine.”
“Sorry, you’re right,” he said quickly, taking another drink from his flask. “I shouldn’t be saying this shit to you. I just . . . I’m sorry. I’m glad you’re here. You didn’t have to come. You don’t owe my family anything, but it’s good to see you.”
His words lacked the emotion he had had just minutes before. “It’s good to see you, too. I’ve missed you.”
“Yeah?” He glanced at Haven. “I’ve missed you, too. You look good, tesoro.”
Her heart started acting erratically, a fluttering in her stomach as the word tesoro escaped his lips. He tried to run his hand through his hair but cringed, a white bandage covering it. “What happened to your hand?”
He shoved it back in his pocket as if to hide the injury. “Corrado shot me.”
“He shot you? Why?”
“You’d have to ask him.” He grew quiet again and Haven knew he was holding back. “That’s where the scar on my face came from, too. Someone shot at me. Wasn’t Corrado that time, though . . . some Irish fucker.”
Haven stared at him as that sank in. “That’s scary.”
“That’s life,” he said, shrugging as if it weren’t a big deal. “That’s my life now, anyway. Thank God it’s not yours.”
Silence lingered between them as he took sips from his flask, his eyes looking everywhere but at her. She could see the sadness, the yearning for something he felt he couldn’t have. It made her chest ache.
“A guy named Gavin asked me out a few months ago,” she blurted out.
Carmine froze with the flask to his lips, cringing at her words. Tension rolled from him in waves. “Did you go out with him?”
“Once, but it could never work.”
