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8
Shaye
“Do me a favor and just wear the damn thing.” Nico smacks the top of the steering wheel with his hand. “Yesterday could have turned out very fucking badly. That watch is meant to protect you.”
I let out a deep breath, fighting the urge to roll my eyes since I know how much it pisses him off. He doesn’t need to be so worried, not that he knows it. “Fine, I’ll wear it.”
“And don’t take off on Rocco again, okay? He’s doing me a favor by keeping an eye on you.”
“Okay,” I grumble, gathering all of my books together in a pile on my lap. We’re still about twenty minutes away from school, and I’d like to be done with the me conversation. I’d much prefer the us version.
“How’d the meeting with your dad go?”
His fingers grip the steering wheel even tighter and his back stiffens. “It didn’t go as I’d expected.”
“How so?”
“Because your father showed up and hijacked the whole thing, shooting off his mouth about shit he doesn’t understand.”
Okay, this deserves a definite eye roll. “Nico, I’m sure he was just trying to help. He’s worried about the family just as much as anyone else.”
“It seems like he’s more worried about his interests than the family’s.”
“I know he doesn’t always handle these things the right way, but he means well.”
Nico’s knuckles are white right now. That must mean there was way more said than he’s letting on right now. I know the background. I know what my father did to incite Frank Cappodamo. And I know he’s a big reason why there’s a big-ass target plastered across my back.
But he’s still my dad. And I hate being in the middle of their never-ending dick slinging contest. There’s never been any love lost between Nico and my dad, and things have gotten more prickly since Grandpa Vito died and Nico rose in rank. Dad doesn’t like taking orders from anyone, much less from his daughter’s boyfriend.
And he’s not shy about airing his grievances, which is only going to cause more trouble for him.
“He needs to keep his fucking mouth shut. He says the wrong shit to the wrong people again, and…” Nico’s voice trails off and he pounds on the wheel again. Poor steering wheel. What the hell did it ever do to him?
I tug on a strand of my hair and twist it around my index finger. This is not the direction I wanted the conversation to take. “You sleep okay last night?” I slam my mouth shut, but it’s too late. The words are already out. And I know damn well he didn’t sleep well at all.
I’m tired of him shutting me out. The whole biting his tongue so he doesn’t say too much thing has to stop.
He slows at a red light outside of the Holland Tunnel. “Not bad.”
I snap my head around to face him. “Really? So you didn’t have another nightmare that made you jump out of the bed again, panting because you can’t even breathe?”
He narrows his eyes at me. “What the hell are you talking about?”
I point at the traffic light. “It’s green.”
“I don’t fucking care.”
I lean back against my seat and glance in the side-view mirror. Luckily, there’s nobody behind us. I guess it’s a random time to be heading into the city. “I know you’re having trouble sleeping. And I also suspect it’s because you carry all of this family bullshit on your shoulders every day. You’re the one making decisions, taking risks, dealing with the mess that comes along with it all.” I turn to him, cringing at the look of defeat in his eyes. His face is twisted into a grimace, but the eyes…they tell me everything I need to know. Everything I’d already suspected. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the light has flickered back to red. “You’re responsible for so much, and I’m worried about you, Nico. I can’t watch you do this to yourself anymore.”
“It’s my job.” His voice is tight, teeth gritted. I get it. I just called him out on something he’s been desperate to hide from me, something nobody else knows. Something that can change people’s perception of him in a hot second.
Fear. Weakness.
They’ll either break you or kill you.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
“You need to drive.”
