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The sound of a gunshot makes my decision for me. I run back where I came from as fast as I can, with each step admonishing myself for leaving Jodie in the first place and hoping that I’m not too late.
Please don’t let me be too late.
As soon as I see her kneeling on the ground beside the car, I let out a breath of relief. Good. She’s alive. It’s the man lying in front of her who seems to be dying, and when I get closer and see the gun in Jodie’s trembling hands, I understand why.
Fuck.
I run to Jodie and wrap my arms around her. She starts sobbing against my shoulder.
“Shh,” I whisper in her ear as I rub her back and rock her back and forth like a child. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay now.”
~
“How is she?” my father asks me over the phone.
I take a moment to glance at Jodie, who’s lying on the bed. She’s still sound asleep.
“Sleeping,” I answer.
It’s a good thing. It means that she’s at least managed to calm down. She could barely do that in the car, her hands and knees shaking the whole time. Then when we got back here to the hotel room, she started sobbing again. I held her through it, not saying anything other than “I’m sorry” and that everything would be okay. Silently, I continued to admonish myself for leaving her alone.
Why do I keep on doing things that hurt her?
Finally, she stopped sobbing. She seemed dazed. I helped her take a shower and change, then tried to put some food in her. Afterwards, I just lay beside her on the bed, talking to her about my fond memories of our childhood. Eventually, she drifted off to sleep.
She’s been asleep for nearly eight hours now.
“Is it true Sergio told her about the family?” my father asks.
I suppose Cain told him.
“Yes,” I answer. “What do you want to do about it?”
He sighs. “There’s nothing to do, really, is there? Now that she knows, the choice is hers – to be a part of the family like her father was or to stay away and stay silent.”
I nod. On one hand, I’m hoping that she’ll stay away and go on with her life. That way, she’ll never be exposed to danger or have to kill anyone again. On the other hand, I don’t want her to go anywhere, not now that I know how she feels about me. But whatever she decides, I’ll respect it.
“No matter what, we’ll keep her safe,” my father says. “We weren’t able to keep her from knowing our secret like her father wanted, but we can at least make sure she’ll never be in danger again.”
“Yes, we can,” I agree. “We should.”
I promise I’m going to protect her.
“Anything else you want to tell me? Or ask me?” my father asks.
I pause. “Do you think Sergio Bianchi killed Mom?”
He lets out another sigh. “Honestly, I don’t know, Leo, but I’m not going to stop trying to find out who’s responsible for her death, or Antonio’s or Bart’s.”
So many senseless deaths.
“Why? What did Sergio tell you?”
I think of telling him that Sergio said he knows who killed Mom, but then I don’t even know whether he was telling the truth.
“Nothing,” I say. “I guess I just… want to know.”
“I know. I know you miss her. I do, too. But we owe it to the dead to keep on living. Isn’t that what Bart told you?”
He knows about that?
“Yes.”
“Try not to dwell on the past too much,” my father adds. “You have your whole life ahead of you.”
I grunt in assent.
“Anything else?”
I shrug. “I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused lately.”
“It’s fine,” he says. “It’s part of a parent’s job to be troubled and to find a solution to those troubles.”
“Okay.” I glance at Jodie. “That’s all. I should go. Jodie might wake up soon.”
“Okay.”
“Bye.”
I’m about to hang up but he speaks again.
“Leo?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m proud of you, son.”
My eyebrows arch. What’s this all of a sudden?
“And I wish you and Jodie the best. Personally, I always thought you were a better match for her than your brother.”
What?
“Take care,” he says. Then he ends the call.
I put the phone down, but the final words of the conversation remain in my mind. Where did that come from? What does he mean he wishes Jodie and me the best? We’re not getting married or anything.
Weirdo.
I set aside the words and go to the bathroom, thinking I’ll take a shower before Jodie wakes up. When I come out, I find her already awake, sitting on the bed.
“Hey.” I sit beside her. “How do you feel?”
“Better,” she answers.
She does look like it. Her cheeks no longer look pale. Her eyes no longer look swollen.
“I mean, I still can’t believe I killed a man,” she explains. “But I’ll be fine. I think.”
