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A knock at the door startles me. I check the cameras from the kitchen; Van is on my doorstep, staring at his shoes. His shoulders are curled in, hands stuffed in his pockets. He doesn’t exactly look thrilled to be here.
Or maybe that’s just me projecting.
I jog down to the front door and swing it open. “Van! Good to see you, buddy.”
He glances up. “Bricker.” No smile. No handshake.
This isn’t the Van I know.
I usher him in and he refuses all drinks, but the meal is just about ready. After I serve up, we sit across from each other at the table, avoiding eye contact as we twirl noodles around our forks. The tension is thicker than the pomodoro sauce I managed not to burn this time.
I clear my throat. “Nico’s doing well. I saw him today. He told me Giddy got out of the hospital.” I’m hoping to draw out more than just a one-word answer.
“Yeah, I went round today to see Tank and Giddy at home,” he says, offering me a quick glance before returning his attention to the food in front of him. “Giddy’s doing okay. Still sleeping a lot, I think because of the pain meds.”
“Yeah, I bet. I’ll go by to see him tomorrow, make sure he and Tank don’t need anything.” I wrack my brain for another casual topic of conversation that won’t make this awkwardness between us stretch endlessly.
I’ve got nothing.
Van stabs a meatball, watching red sauce splatter across his plate.
I set down my fork. “Okay. I know things have been weird between us since the funeral. But Van, I want you to know…hell, you’re my best friend. You always will be. ButI’vebeen a bad friend. I let bullshit get between us, and I’m sorry about that.”
Van looks up at me, curious.
“You were right about Max,” I tell him. “You know what I found out?He’sthe reason my old man’s in prison. Max kept that little secret tighter than the fucking First National vault.”
Van’s eyes open wide. “What the fuck? How did you findthatout?”
I don’t feel like digging into that open wound right now. “Long story. Point is, you tried to warn me: never trust a Castellani. And I didn’t listen. I’m sorry, man. I was a shitty friend and I want to make things right.”
There’s a short silence before Van nods. “Apology accepted.” Then he actually smirks as he adds, “We both know you’d be fucked without me, asshole.”
Thisis him.
This is Van, the guy who’s had my back through thick and thin. We can get through this. I laugh in relief. The tension evaporates; we’re us again. Just a couple of old friends bonding over truly mediocre pasta.
“And, uh, I’m sorry, too,” Van adds with a sheepish grin. “For planting that kiss on you outta the blue. I’ve been...confused about some shit for a while, and I always saw you as…well, as a role model for being out and proud in the Family, I guess.”
My cheeks warm, but I wave it off. “Forget about it. Heat of the moment.”
Van frowns at his plate. “It wasn’t just the heat of the moment, Bricker. I meant what I said. But it also wasn’t fair, and I don’t want it to get in the way of our friendship.”
“It won’t. And Van—any guy would be lucky to have you.”
Van gives a snort, then asks tentatively, “So…you still want me in your crew?”
“Are you fucking kidding me? There’s no one I’d rather have as my second than you. The minute Anna-Vittoria lets me back in the game, you’ll be getting a call.”
He grins at that, although I have no idea if the Maestra will even let me have a crew again. “Good to know,” he says. But then he leans back in his chair, staring into the middle distance. “Speaking of the crew…” He pauses, choosing his words carefully. “Pedretti came to see me yesterday. He’s still trying to figure out who the mole is.”
My good mood evaporates. “What the hell did that bastard say?”
“Whoa!” Van holds up his hands in a calming gesture. “He’s just doing his job, Bricker.”
“His job is to go home and suck up to psychos like that fucker Julian Castellani.” I shove away from the table and stalk to the window.
“You know, maybe you should talk to him.”
