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Alessia shakes her head. “Not really. I mean, she likes to draw animals, but usually she just draws random things. There are a lot of drawings of her, Dylan, and me. And after I told her about this project, she drew a house with her version of a police officer.”
“Oh, really?” I can’t help but smile, wondering what it would be like to have only a fraction of Becca’s love for life, to view the world through her unjaded eyes. “Does she go to school or…?”
“No. She, uh, tried to go and take special ed classes, but she got bullied too much. And my parents can’t afford to send her to the school where she’d really excel—Bec’s really smart, just not in a normal way—so my mom homeschools her.”
Which could be a positive—all four Bryant siblings were homeschooled through high school—but the difference is that John nor Jackie had an alcohol problem. I don’t ever see Tom or Sofia Moore’s vehicles at any of the local bars, but to be honest, closet addictions—whether that be alcohol, drugs, or something else—are just as bad as public ones. Sometimes they’re even worse because nobody sees what goes on behind closed doors. Trust me, because I’m someone whohasseen some of those “behind closed doors” moments, and I can’t pick out a single one that was pretty.
“But you and Dylan go to the public school?”
She nods. “Yeah. I kinda wish we didn’t, but Mom can’t do all of us, ’cause she also works from home for the bank.”
I doubt Sofia drinks much during the day, but I still have to wonder what it’s like when she and Becca are the only ones at home. It helps that it’s summer break right now so Dylan and Alessia are there more, but Alessia also works and is helping with this project. Then again…
“How about you have Dylan and Becca come along sometime?” I offer. “I can talk to your parents about it, if you want, and give all three of you a ride. I was thinking we should all write messages on the walls here before we ever paint, and they’re welcome to be a part of it. Or draw a picture if they want to.”
Alessia looks up at me, shy hope in the crease of her dark brows. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. We can always use more sets of hands to help.” I bump my shoulder against hers, smiling so she’ll know I don’t have any ulterior motives for suggesting this. “Besides, my picture has already made it onThe Wall.I feel like I should meet this Becca Moore artist before she becomes too famous to talk to a guy like me.”
Another laugh bubbles out of her, and she nudges her glasses up on her nose. “She would probably be so excited that she’ll bring you a drawing and ask you to hang it in your house, then send a picture so she knows you did it. And just so you know, she loves hugs. Like, she’ll give you one every twenty minutes or so if she trusts you.”
“Alessia, if she trusts me, I’ll accept her drawing and her hugs.” The pizza delivery vehicle pulls up to the curb, so I stand and pull my wallet from the pocket of my jeans, but I make sure to finish my conversation with Alessia before anything else. “I’ll send a picture to prove I hang it, too. But for now, can you go inside and let everyone know the pizza’s here? I hope whoever lost that arm wrestle found something to dry off with before going back into the house.”
Alessia slides off the sawhorse with a grin, nods, and hops onto the porch with her hands in the pocket of her hoodie before glancing over her shoulder. I have a smile ready for her, but it doesn’t take long for me to realize her quick glance backward wasn’t for me. I look to my left in time to see Gabe Giorgi lift his hand in a wave as he gets out of the car, but when I glance the other way Alessia’s already disappeared inside.
Ah.
Maybe that’s why she came outside. I still feel like there’s something she didn’t tell me—even if she did come out to see Gabe—but that can wait for another time. If it was that urgent, I would hope she feels comfortable enough to confide in me.
I meet Gabe—the son of Abby and Mateo Giorgi, who own the best (and most authentic) pizzeria in town—halfway between his car and where I was. The kid just graduated high school this year, but I heard he’s sticking around to eventually run the family business his grandfather started decades ago. Though, based on the wordless interaction between him and Alessia, I’m willing to bet there’s more to the story.
“Hey, Chief.” Gabe grins as he tries to juggle the pizzas and a receipt, and I reach out to relieve him of the boxes. He might be a little young to know what he wants in life, but he’s a good kid. I’ve never had any issues with him and the law before, which is saying something. “Let’s see, you ordered two hamburgers, two cheese, one supreme, and one Top Secret, right?”
I pass him the cash I already got out. “Yes, sir. And keep the change.”
“Hey, thanks.” Gabe stuffs the bills in the bag he’s used since he was old enough to deliver, then glances up. “Oh, wait. Dad said I was supposed to ask if you want to sign up for our new reward system. All you gotta do is put your name and number and email on the receipt and then we start adding points to your account. Then you start earning free breadsticks or pizzas or things like that.”
Reward system…earn things.
“Yeah, sure.” I shake off the thoughts I’m trying to decode as I motion for him to follow me. I set the pizzas down on the sawhorse and take his pen and receipt to fill out the lines he mentioned. “All right, there you go. Considering we’ll probably be ordering plenty of pizza throughout the duration of this project, I can’t hurt to have it pay itself back, huh? And nothing beats your family’s pizza.”
I’m pretty sure Gabe blushes, but he hides it with one of his wide grins. “Well, thanks. Have a good night, Chief.”
“You too, Gabe.” I clap the kid on the shoulder, then lift the pizzas and carry them back inside. “Supper’s here. I recommend eating while it’s hot. As always, ladies first.”
Before anyone can move, Marshall and Colin walk in through the sliding glass door leading to the backyard, and I try to stifle my groan. Clearly, I didn’t give Colin enough credit, because he is most definitely not the one who’s soaking wet. I’m grateful this meeting will be wrapped up after we’re done with our pizza, because I’m not sure I want to listen to Colin flaunt his strength tonight.
“We did best of five,” Marshall says with a lopsided smile. I honestly don’t know how he can be so fun-loving all the time, but I guess it takes all types to make the world go ’round. “To be fair, I was going to win until…well, until I didn’t.”
I snort. “You don’t say.”
“Oh, hey, the pizza’s here.” Colin strides towards the stack of boxes, hands in the pockets of his black jeans, but I stick my arm out to block him. “What are you doing?”
Because I’m clearly the responsible adult of this group, I gesture to the girls. “It’s ladies first, as you know by now. Please go grab Marshall a blanket from my truck so he can dry off.”
“Oh, come on,” Colin whines. “He’s the one who made the dare.”
“Yeah, well, you decided to accept it. Nice try.”
