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Chapter 6
Xavier
Life changes in an instant. What in the damn world was I thinking by kissing her? I shouldn’t have. I mentally kick my own ass. I’ve always kept a good distance from her. Kept my hands to myself. Kept the whispers away from her father’s prying ears. And he's got jumbo fucking ears. Dumbo ears. He’s always watching, always listening. She's on a short leash that he yanks back if she goes too far. Pretty sure that's why he hates me, because I’m the one thing he can't control.
I slip out the back door, still tasting her kiss on my tongue, and head down the long drive I've walked a million times to see Rhiannon, back to my mom’s house. I really fucked up coming here today but seeing her with that All-American athlete and piece of shit douchebag, Ian, well, no fucking way. There was no way I was going back to my apartment till I knew she was home.
Headlights come into view, driving away from the cottage I grew up in. I step to the side of the narrow drive, into the grass, as two black sedans speed by. Delaurio’s car.
A weird feeling sets in. You know the one, where your hair stands on ends, or your skin breaks out in goosebumps. I jog the rest of the way, up the front steps, and jiggle the front door handle. Mom’s car is still parked next to my piece of shit Ford truck. I fumble with my keys in my pocket and damn near drop them as I try to get them into the lock.
“Mom?” I call out, racing through the house, flipping on lights as I go. My heart beat slams into overdrive when I can’t find her. I reach for my cell, heading into the kitchen, and there she is sprawled out on the floor in her nightgown. Her eyes stare through me.
I slide along the floor, like I do on the field sliding into home base, and scoop her head off the floor.
“Mom, say something. Mom?”
Her chest doesn't move. No air comes from her lungs. She isn’t breathing. There’s no sound as I punch in the numbers 9-1-1 on my cell and bring it to my ear.
Suicide.Overdose. Mixed with alcohol.
I sit in disbelief as the coroner tells Mr. DeLaurio one more time about the events that took place. My mother didn't have anti-depressants. There was no liquor in the house.
What the fuck does he know? Asshole wasn’t even here, but pretty sure Mr. DeLaurio was.
The realization that she’s even gone hasn’t fully hit yet. She’s been everything to me—mom, dad, friend. And when I find out who did this, they will fucking pay. Rhiannon finds me and wraps a comforting arm around me, our earlier fight forgotten.
Her tears soak my shirt before her mother ushers her away. Everything is moving in slow motion.
Mr. DeLaurio finishes up with the officials, and a catastrophic storm is brewing in my bones. He glances at me, his solemn look as artificial as his worried smile.
The chief of police and coroner stand close together, signing off on papers. DeLaurio walks across the spot where her body lay an hour ago.
Even if I did speak up, then what? Who would believe a kid against the powerful Mr. DeLaurio? Who would believe me at all?
No one.
And I know what type of man he is. And now what? I’ll tell you what—I stand up to one of the most ruthless mob bosses in the world. What have I got to lose? I have nothing now but distant relatives I don't even know.
“Two cars left here,” I say, glancing over at DeLaurio. “Looked a lot like yours.”
“Son, you're upset,” the police chief says. “Sorry for your loss.”
“You're not going to listen to me?”
“No,” he says. He gives a chin nod to Mr. DeLaurio and they are both gone before I can get another word out.
We burymy precious mother's body on a rainy and cold, late spring day. As I stand next to my mother’s casket, laying a white rose amidst the mound of flowers on top, my heart turns to ice.
My eyes meet Mr. DeLaurio’s. The man’s damn face hasn’t left my dreams since the moment I found my mother dead on the floor.
Despite the rain pouring down in broad gray sheets, he heads in my direction. He sets a hand on my shoulder as I catch sight of Rhiannon turning to leave after the service. I just can’t bring myself to seek her comfort, even though she’s offered. Many times. I know she’s hurting, but my pain is too great and it’s all mine; I don’t want to share it.
“Son, I know this must be hard on you.”
I breathe through my nose to control the anger tearing through me.
“If you need a job…”
