Page 30 of The Ache That Stayed

He watched me for a long second. Amusement flickered in his expression.

“I tried that once,” he said.

Then silence.

The storm outside shook the windows. We stood locked in silence. Neither of us moved. Neither surrendered. Lighting illuminated the sky once again, casting haunting shadows across the floor, while we stood there locked in the same stalemate we’d been trapped in for years.

I stormed back to my room and slammed the door so hard the frame rattled. I paced the room back and forth, folding already folded clothes, rearranging the room frantically at fucking 2 a.m. My body buzzed with leftover adrenaline.

Why’d he come back?

I collapsed into bed, sheets twisting around my legs, breath uneven. When I closed my eyes, memory dragged me under.

Two years ago. Sicily.

Romano was at my hip while I was passing the terrace. I heard voices.

“I have to go,” Santino was saying.

I froze in the hallway, unseen.

“Ronnie’s takeover is being challenged,” he continued.

“He needs reinforcement. It’s the least we can do after he helped us with Lorenzo.”

Dread settled heavily in my chest. I stepped onto the terrace.

“You’re leaving?”

Marcello looked at me. But my eyes were locked on Santino.

Marcello sighed. “I’ll leave you two to it.”

Santino smirked. “You want me to deal with fire alone?”

Marcello shot back without missing a beat. “You’re the one lighting it.”

He kissed my temple, taking Romano inside with him. I stood there, arms crossed, furious and not even sure why.

“It’s just for a couple of months,” Santino said.

“Why can’t Martin go?” I snapped. “He’s seen more war than you have.”

Santino exhaled slowly. “Ronnie doesn’t need muscle. He needs the brains.”

I rolled my eyes, but I knew that was true.

I hated that answer. I hated that it made sense. Martin was war, but Santino was information. And information won wars before they started.

I stepped forward and hugged him anyway because anger felt easier than admitting I didn’t want him to go.

“I’ll miss you.”

His arms came around me slower.

“Yeah,” he murmured after a beat. “Me too.”

“Leave your bike,” I muttered into his shirt.