Page 5 of Chasing Hope

Frowning, I call out, “Valenti?”

A scoff has me rounding the Honda to find him at the back of Carter’s car, kneeling. “I told you to call me Matteo.”

“And I’ve told you that I like calling you Valenti.”

He lifts those gorgeous forest-green eyes to mine, the contact freezing me to the spot. “You called me Matteo earlier.”

I shrug. “I’m in clear emotional distress. I was shocked, and you caught me off guard.”

The last person I was expecting to not only come herebut to join me on this vandalism escapade was Matteo, and saying his first name has always done things to my insides. Things that I’ve had to suppress for a long twenty years, so no, I will not start calling him by his name,especiallynot now when I feel so emotionally raw.

Valenti is safer. Valenti is what my brother calls him. Valenti reminds me that he’s never been mine and never will be.

Careful not to stand on the glass littered between the two traitors’ cars, I peek over the back of the banged-up BMW. “What are you doing down there, by the way?”

“Shoving a potato in his exhaust pipe.”

“First of all, very imaginative, so I know you didn’t come up with that on your own. And second, where did you get said potato from?”

Valenti snorts. “I’m offended you think I lack imagination.”

“Have you met yourself?”

Matteo blinks.

Rolling my hand, I urge him to continue. “Come on, cough it up, where did you get the potato from?”

“My apartment.”

“You brought a potato with you?”

“I brought a lot of things with me.”

“Why?”

He stands, wiping his hands on his jeans, not the least bit concerned with the dirt that stains it. “For optimal damage.”

My brow quirks. “You really are trying to go to prison, aren’t you?” Narrowing my eyes, I lean forward conspiratorially. “Have you got a prison fantasy you’re trying to live out, Valenti?”

Matteo’s lip twitches before he shoves the smile down and picks up his crowbar once more. “I think I’d look good in orange.”

“You’d look good in anything. Doesn’t mean you should wear a jumpsuit to prove a point.”

“You think I look good in anything, Dove?”

“I think a raccoon would look sexy right now if it was destroying Carter’s beloved car.”

A muscle feathers in Matteo’s jaw. Turning on his heel, he walks back to his car, rummaging around in the trunk.

Huffing out a breath, I look to the elevator to my left, the only one that leads to the apartments. My mind begins to whirl. “Son of a bitch.” I check the time on my phone and realize I’ve been down here for forty minutes. “They didn’t stop fucking.” Indignation and another wave of madness rush through me. “They haven’t even stopped fucking!”

Matteo’s strides eat up the distance between us. He places something in my hands and by the time I realize what it is, the sound of rushing air has my eyes snapping up.

“Only slash three,” Matteo declares as he plunges the blade into another one of Felicity’s tires. “Slash all four and insurance will cover it.”

My eyes practically glow with glee. Skipping over to Carter’s car, I let out a guttural scream as I stab the blade down. “You piece of shit man child!” I rip the blade from the tire, the whoosh of air satisfying my need for revenge. But staring at his broken car isn’t enough. Turning to face Matteo, I blurt out, “Did you know I had to beg him to brush his teeth?”

Matteo stops mid-strike, the blade a mere inch from one of Carter’s tires. “I’m sorry, what did you just say?”