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The next morning, Rosa and I sit on the rooftop garden. Each time we come here, it reminds me of when this all started, the man appearing and changing everything. Rosa pushes a croissant around her plate with a fork, staring at it listlessly.
“I’m sorry about yesterday,” she murmurs.
No, I can’t do this. I can’t listen to more apologies from her, especially after what Leo and I did. It’s like I’m stuck in a perpetual loop. Do something intimate, romantic, or life-changing with Leo, then sit and listen as Rosa says sorry when she doesn’t need to.
“I understand. You were upset. You have every right to be.”
“I can’t believe I did that to Mom’s shrine.”
“Did you see it this morning? It’s as good as new.”
Rosa smiles sadly. “Good old Eddie.”
Guilt twists into me, through me, angry, ugly, and very much deserved. I try to ignore it, but it keeps rising like a monster ready to swallow me and my most cherished friendship whole. I shouldn’t tell her before I’ve cleared it with Leo. He has a right to be part of this decision, but at the same time, I feel like I have to. The longer we let this go on, the worse it will be when we finallydotell her.
“Rosa…”
“Hmm?” She looks up from the untouched croissant. Her eyes narrow. “Whoa, Emma, what’s wrong?”
I’m about to ask why she thinks something’s wrong, but she can read me, mostly. Sure, I can hide secret relationships from her and steamy encounters with her dad, but overall, through the years, Rosa has been able to read me just like I’ve been able to read her. Now, with the emotion pressing close to the surface, she can see it. I can’t run anymore.
“Hey…” Rosa shuffles her chair around the table and gently touches my arm. “Whatever it is, it’s going to be okay. I promise.”
I clear my throat and warn myself not to cry. If I start sobbing, she’ll go into full best friend comforting mode. Without knowing the reason for my tears, she’ll hold me and be there for me like always.
“I’m not sure you can say that—”
I get a major dose of déjà vu when somebody suddenly bursts onto the rooftop garden. I think I’ve slipped back in time, but then I push that thought away. It’s crazy, and I no longer have to think like that. I thought wanting Leo was on the same scale as the delusion I experienced after Mom’s death, but he proved me wrong. I’m not imagining it. Eddie runs into the garden, panting, his face red.
“What’s wrong?” Rosa asks.
“We’re about to be attacked,” Eddie says.
“I don’t unde—”
“No time,” Eddie snaps. “Both of you, with me. Now.”
I’ve never seen Eddie like this, his face red and panicked. There’s something in his eyes, determination and fierceness. He steps forward, waving his hand at us. I notice he’s holding a pistol in his other hand.
“Now.”
So much for telling Rosa the truth.
My heart pounds as we rush down the stairs. I want to ask Eddie where Leo is. Ishebeing attacked too? I know it would be a mistake. I’d reveal too much in my tone when I asked—too much emotion, need, and budding love. Too muchus.
“No time,” Eddie snaps when Rosa turns toward her room.
“But my notebook is in there,” Rosa says.
“No. Time.”
Rosa gasps, then nods. She must be able to tell this is far more serious than some routine evacuation.
“How do you know we’re going to be attacked?” Rosa says as we run down the stairs, making for the front door.
“I got word from Dario. It seems he’s established a mole within the Bratva. Dario’s never wrong about stuff like this.”
“What about Dad?” Rosa asks, almost like she’s reluctant to bring him up, to care about him, but has to.
