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I strolled toward the door, stopping as I started to push it open, then looked back, narrowing my eyes on him. “Away from you.”
“Rafael.” My name coming out of his mouth was a warning, one I didn’t adhere to as I sauntered across the backyard and over the lawn, heading into the back of the house I’d grown up in. Mom was sitting in the kitchen, a cup of coffee in her hands, a sure sign that she wouldn’t be sleeping again tonight. It was already after eight p.m.
“Hey, Mom.” I hated that I hadn’t seen her in so long because I’d refused to stay here, but right then, I didn’t have a choice but to go inside to get clean. And Dad knew that.
She gasped, the blood covering my clothes the first thing she saw, but I didn’t need to explain it, not to the daughter of a previous Mafia boss, as well as the sister to one. She’d grown up in this world, just like I had.
“I’m going to shower,” I told her, placing a kiss on her head, the smell of coffee bringing back memories. Every time she would scream in the middle of the night, her nightmares taking hold of her, I’d smell the coffee not long after. When I got a little older, I used to come down and join her, having a hot cocoa and just wanting to make sure she was okay.
The more I let all of the past memories fester, the more the hatred for my father seeped in.
“Okay, Raf.” She smiled up at me, placing her hand on the side of my face. “Are you staying after?”
I shook my head, not able to get the word out as I backed away, keeping my attention on her for just a second longer before spinning around and heading upstairs.
It didn’t take long for me to get to my bedroom, strip off my clothes, place them in a bag so they could be burned, then take a shower. It felt like the longest shower of my life, but in reality, it was actually the quickest because I wanted to get the hell out of there. I knew it wouldn’t be long until my dad finished the job. We’d gotten the information we needed out of our victim, so he was no longer of use.
But I was done with needing to clear up the mess. He’d never cleaned up the destruction he’d made with his own wife, so why should I have had to clean up that mess?
I was done with it all. Totally fuckin’ done.
My mind was a whirr of thoughts as I toweled off and dressed in a pair of light-denim jeans and a white T-shirt. I wanted to look clean, even if I felt like the blood was still staining my skin.
Slipping my feet into my black boots, I then grabbed my wallet and keys, intending to get the hell out of there without another word, but I wasn’t so lucky because Mom was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, a sad smile on her face.
“Raf,” she started, her tone tentative. I halted halfway down the stairs, my stomach dropping at the way she said my name. “I…what happened that day…” She trailed off, her gaze snapping to the right, her feet shuffling on the floor. “I should have told you before. You were always there and—”
I couldn’t listen to her blame herself, not anymore. “It’s not your fault, Mom.” I took the stairs as quickly as I could, then wrapped my arms around her when I was close enough. “You were trying to make yourself better without any help, but now you have the supplies and can heal properly.” I pulled back, letting her go but looking her right in the eyes. “But…I can’t be here to see it happen, Mom. The hatred in me is too much and I…you don’t need that around you right now.”
She didn’t miss a beat. “I need you, son. I’ve always needed you.”
I nodded, knowing that she has, but I had to be honest with her… “I need myself more, Mom.”
Silence stretched between us, her eyes filling with tears as my words physically impacted her. There was nothing else for me to say, not now, not about this. So I placed a kiss on her cheek, then walked past her, letting myself out of the front door and walking toward my car that was parked on the driveway.
I got in, turned the key in the ignition, and had no idea where to go. Maybe I could have driven to my new house, the one that I’d closed on the morning I’d taken Peyton on a date. I was so damn excited to tell her about it; I’d even planned to take her there after we’d eaten to show her.
But then Romeo had called and fucked up every single one of my plans.
Slamming my hand on the steering wheel, I spotted Dad walking around the side of the house. I had to get away from here—from him—so I revved the engine, wheel-spun off the drive, then sped out of the neighborhood I’d grown up in.
I wasn’t sure where I was heading, I just drove, letting my mind take over and steer me to wherever it wanted to be. Forty minutes later, I was pulling up outside of Romeo’s house, but it wasn’t his home that my gaze veered to, it was hers. Peyton.
Without a second thought, I climbed out of the car, the streetlamps illuminating the way in the now near-pitch-black darkness, and headed across her empty driveway. It didn’t even occur to me that her car was missing, didn’t register for a single second because I could feel that she was close by, and that was all I needed.
Leaning my head on her front door, I debated whether I should knock or not. I’d come all the way here, not even considering the fact that it was ten p.m. and both boys would probably be in bed.
But I’d made her a promise. I’d told her that we’d finish what we started. And I always kept my promises. So I lifted my hand, knocked twice, and waited.
Seconds ticked by, ten, twenty, then a light came on, shining through the small glass strip above her front door.
There was several seconds of silence, and then I heard the echoing of her feet hitting the stairs as she came down then her shadow appeared.
“Hello?” her tentative voice asked.
“It’s me,” I responded, trying to keep my tone neutral and low enough not to scare her.
A lock clicked, then another, and another. Damn, how many did she have?
