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“Of course we did,” Lili chimed in a beat too late. “He knows. I mean, I’ve tried…”
“Yeah, but did anyone actually say that to him? Tell him that they loved him.” That no matter what happened, they loved him.
Lili chewed on her lip. “He had a big fight with Tony right after it happened. Things were said. There was almost a brawl at the funeral, but he came back to us eventually.” She shared a guilty glance with her sister. “He’s family, he knows what we think. How much we love him.”
“Jesus, you guys suck donkey balls at being Italian.”
Cara’s smile was brief. “I know. We’ve never been the most demonstrative types. It’s all about food and family and knowing that underneath it all, blood is all that matters. We don’t need to say it. It’s right here.” She touched two fingertips to her chest. A few inches higher than her heart but Jules got the gist.
But he didn’t cook anymore, and the light in his eyes dimmed whenever his mother’s name was mentioned. He was still stuck in a broke-down place where peace and acceptance was impossible.
He needed a friend, but more than that, he needed her heart.
Thirty-Five
He wasn’t at Vivi’s and he wasn’t picking up his phone. Kennedy said he’d made it clear he’d be out of calling range the night before and all problems should be taken to Derry.
The house looked shut-in and lifeless. She knocked. No answer. Standing back, she assessed her options and thought she saw a twitch at one of the blind slats.
She knocked again and again until her knuckles turned raw. “Tad, I need to talk to you.”
Nothing but dead silence.
From her purse, she plucked the key Frankie had given to her thirty minutes ago with a nod and no questions. Righty-open, inside she went, the light behind her casting a wedge of brightness in the dark hallway where he had taken her so possessively just a few days before.
The door to the living room cracked open.
“Why are you here?” He sounded rusty, as if it was the first time he had spoken in days.
She inched closer and got a waft of booze fumes for her trouble. Giving the door a gentle push, she was relieved to see it give way.
“It’s so dark,” she said, her fingers moving automatically to the light switch.
“Leave it,” he rasped. There was just enough light to make out a bottle on the table, a couple of pizza boxes, and a sheet on the sofa. She didn’t need it to make out the lines of his body, which she knew better than any recipe.
His silence combined with the dark gave her a chance to examine him, but she decided quickly that she didn’t want to talk to him in the shadows. She moved to the window and pulled on the blind cord. Slatted light filled the room, bathing it in buttery stripes.
Illuminating the matter was an iced water shock. He hadn’t slept; that much was clear.
His eyes were bloodshot and raw, two days of stubble gave him a pirate’s jaw. His whole appearance was one of someone haunted.
She sat beside him, close enough to touch but she held off although every cell in her body fizzled at being so near to him. Would she always feel this way? Probably. Definitely.
“Is Evan okay?” he asked in a whiskey-rough voice.
“He’s fine.”
He curled his fist into her hair gently and pulled her close. “I’m sorry that bastard ever hurt you and then I just rolled back over you. I’m going to make sure no one ever hurts you again.” He released her with a gentle stroke of her cheek. “Including me.”
Alarm bolted through her. “Tad, tell me what’s going on.”
“I need you to leave, Jules. I have to be alone.”
“No, you don’t.”
He rubbed his hand across his mouth and gave her an eviscerating look. She had seen that look before from men who wanted to get rid of her. Guys with whom she had outstayed her welcome.
She didn’t care.
