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“She’s supposed to be the love of your life. You’d think you’d treat her more kindly,” Max says, putting whatever Gia was making into the oven.
I scowl and narrow my eyes at him. I was kind. I’m trying to help her heal. The doctor said she has to rest.
“We have another shipment coming in tonight.” I try to lead us to a topic I’m more comfortable discussing.
“I never realized we killed so many people,” he says absently while jumping over our couch to lie down.
“Hugo and Coy are restructuring. They’re cleaning out everyone who’s not loyal to him. He’s popping made men. No one is batting an eyelash that he’s taking all of our rules and acting as if they don’t apply to him.”
“Are we safe?”
I pull out a stool, plant my ass on the flat surface, then stand up. I’m agitated.
“The only time we’ll be safe is when we’re in power once again. Gia may be the only thing saving our asses right now. For some reason, Coy seems to be unwilling to rock the boat with the Rossis. Or maybe he’s just waiting for us to be his fall guys. I don’t know.”
Max snaps his fingers and sits up. “What about the other families? Shouldn’t they care that Coy and his father are bending the rules?”
“I doubt they know. When guys just disappear and no one hears from them again, it’s never the story that’s told that is true.”
“What would Dad do?” Honestly, that should never be a motto we want to live by. But in this case, we may have to adapt to it. He was a ruthless piece of shit, but he was smart enough to run his part well.
“That’s the problem; I’m not sure. He looked at us like we were useless boys who had to grow up first. He should have brought us under his wing more.”
“Why didn’t he?”
“He thought we were weak. Just like Coy thinks. But we’ll prove to everyone that they underestimated us in the end. And we will take back the mafia, keeping it under the Mancini name.”
Max nods before lying back down on the worn leather couch. An hour later, Gia’s casserole of some type is making my mouth water. By the smell of it, the girl can cook. I haven’t had a home-cooked meal that didn’t taste like shit for months.
Max takes it out, allowing it to cool. “You plan on waking her?”
I fight my eye roll and silently walk toward my room. Creaking the door open, I see she’s sleeping on the hard, cold floor. That can’t be good for her already bruised muscles. Effortlessly, I scoop her into my arms and place her back on my comfortable bed. I cover her with a blanket, and the urge to kiss her on the cheek becomes overwhelming. I thread my fingers through her hair before turning around and allowing her to sleep more.
I head back into the kitchen and make a dish up for her, placing it to the side to save for when she wakes up. Max eyes me, then the dish but doesn’t say anything. Wise, considering I would have no problem punching him in the face.
When I wake,it’s dark, and my stomach growls. It’s cramping like it’s trying to eat itself. I sit up, frightened, not knowing where I am until the memory of Romeo comes back to mind. I pull the blankets closer around me, and all I can smell is him. It’s a clean, woodsy scent. Inhaling the blankets, I breathe him in. My eyes adjust to the darkness. He’s nowhere in the room. My hand moves to the small section of the bed beside me. It’s cold, and the sheets are ruffled around my body.
I pull the top blanket off the bed and wrap it around my torso. The warmth keeps the night’s chill from seeping in as I head to the kitchen. The house is eerily silent, the only sound being the creaking of the floor under me.
The stove light is on, with a small plate on top of the range. At least they saved me some, even though they didn’t wake me. The thought of them laughing at me behind my back has me frowning and feeling homesick. Homesick from who or where, I have no idea.
Opening a few drawers, I look for utensils. Each time I close them, I slam them hard enough to make it echo in the small room. I punch my fork into the plate, wishing I could have eaten with them. It feels cold and lonely sitting in the dark while eating by myself.
The sound of tires on gravel catches my attention, and I peek outside. The car I hear is nowhere in sight, but all the lights around the pig pens are on, and the pigs are talking enthusiastically.
When I shove my fork down, it comes back up bare. Checking my plate, I see it’s empty.
I think I can see Romeo and Max out in the distance, but honestly it could be anyone. It’s mostly figures with no details from here.
What if someone is trying to steal their animals? There’s no reason to work in the middle of the night. I bite down on my thumb, not knowing what I should do.
“Romeo?” I call out. Silence.
It has to be them. My heart is dancing around in my chest, and still, I take a few steps toward the door. Slowly, and with as little noise as possible, I step outside onto the porch. I can make out Romeo better now. He and Max are walking back up to the house.
I hide in the shadows, my presence still unknown to them. The brothers are talking, and Max nudges his shoulder into Romeo. It’s obvious they’re close. For a split second, I envision sisters, but the image is gone before I can remember any details.
Where is my family?Why hadn’t I thought of this before? I feel my pulse behind my eyes. Each time I think I remember something or try to, my head throbs as if scaring me off from that information. Could Romeo and Max be the only people who care about me? I close my eyes and press my palms into them. I have a feeling this is my body’s way of trying to force me not to dig into my past.
