AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“How is she now?”
“Good,” I say, swallowing past the emotions the thoughts of her not being here drag up. Jonas might have been torturing us with his presence all my life, but really, it was the two of us against the world. Things were so much more bearable before she got sick. She was always there, taking care of me, being the shoulder I craved, the support I needed when life as a baby mafia soldier got a little bit too much.
All of us were born with high expectations placed on us. Our blood alone ensured what our futures would look like. It’s something none of us have ever really pushed back against, all of us wanting the life we’ve been born into. But that didn’t mean that training our fathers put us through over the years wasn’t brutal.
Mum, with her soft voice and soothing hugs, was the balm for all that violence and corruption.
But as she got weaker, I lost her support. She was still there, of course she was. But it was never the same. And it only got worse as she spent more and more time either in hospital or in bed, and I was forced to spend more time in Jonas’s presence. I was forced to endure more and more of his abuse, the severity of his punishments for whatever he deemed I did wrong increasing week on week.
I put on a brave face when I was with Mum, but she could see. She knew what we were both suffering. She just didn’t have a way, or the strength, to get out.
If only she’d told me the truth sooner…
If only…
I let out a heavy sigh. I’ve been over all the what-ifs a million times.
If I knew about Galen and Stella, we could have fled the country. Left that cunt behind. But at the end of the day, what good would it have done? He’d have always found us. And it always would have hurt more. The result could have been worse than what we’re dealing with now.
I look down into Jodie’s eyes, feeling her pain and grief as if it’s my own, and for the first time since my entire life blew up in my face, I actually feel a little gratitude for not losing anyone I cared about. Jodie might not have any clue about who the men really were that she’s grieving for right now, but that doesn’t mean the pain is any less real.
If I were a better man. I might feel guilty for what I’ve spent the last few weeks planning. But I’m not a better man.
I was born into a world with Jonas as a father, and I killed my first man before my tenth birthday.
My reputation might be the nice one. But my soul is just as dark and tarnished as the others’. I just hide it better.
“They think she’s going to be okay. She has a good number of years yet.”
“That’s awesome.”
“She deserves it,” I say honestly. After everything my mum has endured with her husband, she more than deserves some happiness with the man who still holds her heart after all these years and the distance between them. And she needs to get time with her daughter.
“I look forward to meeting her one day.”
The thought alone makes me tense.
“I’m sure she’d love that too,” I say, although I already know that it’s never going to happen.
I’ve seen the excitement in Mum’s eyes as Stella and Seb fell in love, and then Emmie and Theo when she’s seen them together. I know she’s getting ideas for me being next, probably wondering what my girl’s going to look like, how quickly we’re going to send her out to buy a fancy hat and organise seating plans. Christ, she’s probably already been looking at fucking baby clothes when she’s been out shopping, knowing her.
She’s never made her dreams for me to have a family of my own one day—a real, loving, honest family, the type she was never able to provide me with—a secret, and I know it’s not something she’s going to forget about easily.
“I love it here. Can we stay forever?”
Jodie snuggles into my heat, and I find myself pushing reality out once again and just enjoying her company.
It’s a fucking dangerous position to be in.
* * *
“I’m not ready,” Jodie says beside me as I pull up outside her house Sunday evening.
Our long weekend was both a blessing and a curse.
I bring the car to a stop and kill the engine before turning to her.
She looks like a different person from the one I found in a heap on the ground out the back of the coffee shop a few days ago. She’s still fighting her battles, just like I am mine, but she seems lighter. The shadows in her eyes aren’t so dark and haunting. I wish I could say the same about mine.
