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“Whatever’s happening, it’s going to be fine. And you could drag me through the pits of hell and I’d still be one hundred percent in it with you,” I tell her.
“A few warehouses were blown up tonight. It’s a direct attack on my family and Charlie’s, and until they narrow down the threat and eliminate it, we’re going to be kept under lock and key,” she says.
I look over at her. “How often does this happen to you?”
“A few times over the years. It’s usually resolved really quickly though,” she says. “On the bright side, Gray was the one who insisted I bring you. He said that because everyone knows we’re dating, you’d be a target too.” She smiles.
“You’re happy I’m a target in someGodfather-style mafia war?” I ask her.
“No, and my family isn’t mafia. I’m happy that my brother likes you enough to make sure you come home with me, to make sure you’re protected.”
“Your familyisthe fucking mafia, Aliyah, and your brother likes you enough, not me.”
“Maybe, but we don’t use the word mafia.”
“What do you use then?” I ask her. The topic of what her family does isn’t something we’ve ever discussed.
“Business.” She shrugs.
“Business.” I laugh, because how can I not? This situation is absurd. We’re not living in an episode of theSopranos. I follow the GPS directions to the address Aliyah punched in. I haven’t been to her father’s house before—can’t say this is the kind of situation I wanted to be invited to, but it is what it is.
“I’m really sorry,” she apologizes again.
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”
“You could get hurt because of me,” she says.
“Babe, I’m a hockey player. Getting banged up is in the job description.” I smirk.
“It’s not the same thing.” She sighs.
“I know. But you can’t help who your family is, just like I can’t.” I still haven’t spoken to my mother. Honestly, the way she treated Aliyah back in New York pisses me off more than the fact she slept with my fucking coach.
Matty has been calling nonstop, trying to be the peacemaker. He wants us all to be together for Christmas. I’ve told him he’s more than welcome to spend the holidays at my place, but no way am I going home. Aliyah is a lot closer to her family anyway. It makes more sense for us to stay here. Not that we’ve discussed holiday plans yet. I’m just assuming at this point. I mean, everyone knows where this woman goes, I go.
I pull up to a huge gate. There are three men blocking the entrance. When they see us, they move aside and the gate opens. My jaw drops as I drive up to the house. “This is where you grew up?” I ask.
“Yep. Trust me, a house may look big and pretty, but more often than not, what goes on inside it isn’t what it seems.”
Turning the car off, I look over at her. “Does being here bother you?”
“Sometimes. I mean, I have good memories here too. But sometimes the bad ones take over and bring me right back to that place. Like if I walk past a closet that she used to lock me in or something like that.”
“She locked you in fucking closets?” I growl.
“She did.”
“How the fuck did nobody know this was happening to you?”
“She only did it when my father wasn’t home. Which was a lot. He was home more after she left though,” Aliyah says. We both know her mother didn’t leave voluntarily, but if that’s how she wants to process things, then that’s what we’re sticking with. “Come on.” Aliyah opens her door and steps out of the car. I follow suit, coming around the other side to grab her hand.
“What are the chances your father will let me into your bedroom? Maybe we can create our own memories here, the X-rated kind,” I suggest.
“Uh, sure, if you’re prepared to get shot.” Aliyah laughs.
“For you, always.”
“Don’t ever get shot for me, Liam King. I mean it.”
