“It’ll all be fine.” Gently, she disengaged my arms. “I have all the faith in the world in you, Carly Ann.”
Her words echoed even after she’d g
one back to watch Fox train. I was glad someone did, because I didn’t have much faith in myself at the moment.
I slept for a couple of hours, then dragged myself up to study. I was still exhausted and felt vaguely off, so I skipped eating. Not that I needed to after that feast we’d prepared last night, amidst talk of guns and graves and death.
Our new normal.
That afternoon, I headed over to Slater’s. I took the subway as I always did, but I watched everyone who got too close. Men with long dark coats got extra stares, since they were probably hiding guns.
When I wasn’t paying attention, the world had become a dangerous, frightening place.
I got off at Slater’s stop and hurried up the steps to the sidewalk, checking over my shoulder every few feet. Maybe I’d never go back to the way I’d been. Oblivious to how quickly life could change.
In an instant. Less.
Clutching the purse I wore cross-body to my hip, I stopped in the lobby of Slater’s building and waited for someone to let me in. It didn’t take long. A tremulous smile at a harried businessman and I was inside, on my way up to Slater’s. Wondering with every step if I was making a colossal mistake.
I rubbed my clammy palms on the thighs of my jeans and knocked, deliberately staying out of view of the peephole. If curiosity didn’t win out, I wasn’t getting in there, because I seriously doubted he’d let me in voluntarily. Since I was from the enemy’s camp and all.
The door swung open, and I gasped. Gio thought I did that too often, but this time, it was deserved.
“Slater,” I whispered, gripping the doorframe.
The man standing in front of me wasn’t the sweet, lovable boy I’d known. Gone was the clean-shaven jaw, replaced by a thick scruff of light brown hair. His normally shaggy blond hair was wild and unkempt and longer than I’d ever seen it. The rings under his eyes made him seem ten years older at least.
He stared at me for a long moment, something like wistfulness passing through his sea-green eyes, before he made a sound of disgust and tried to shut the door in my face.
“No. Dammit, no.” I stuck my foot in the crack and pushed my hip against the door. “Don’t do this. I know what you’re going through. I get it, I swear.”
“You don’t get anything. Neither does your sister. Let go of the door, Carly.”
“Make me,” I challenged, thrusting myself into the scant opening I’d made. “Unless you plan on carrying me out of here bodily, I’m not going anywhere.”
He put up a token effort to dislodge me from the door then lifted his hands, palms out, and backed into the apartment. I knew he would never hurt me. The guy didn’t even swat flies. “Fine. You want to come in, come in. But don’t bother telling me—”
I walked inside and shut the door, sagging against it when my knees threatened to give way. Clean, neatnik Slater was living in a place that looked like it was a set for the TV show Hoarders. His beloved surfboards weren’t stacked neatly against the wall as they’d been the last time I’d visited a few months ago, but shoved haphazardly into a corner. Takeout boxes were everywhere, interspersed with empty beer bottles and old newspapers.
Slater, who rarely drank and definitely didn’t eat much takeout. His body had been a temple, at least until Olivia had taken up residence in his heart.
“Go ahead. Say it. Say I’m a fucking wreck.” He threw his arm out and gestured to the mess. “A loser.”
I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. Looking at him then was like staring into my own face, months down the road.
This was what love did to a person. When it wasn’t right, or when it was so right you weren’t strong enough to survive it.
Swallowing hard, I pushed off the door and moved closer to him. I had nothing but instinct to guide me, and bone-deep understanding.
And I didn’t want him to hurt anymore.
“I’m—I’m with Giovanni Costas.”
His head came up, and his eyes narrowed. “What?”
“Yeah.” Nervously, I tucked my hair behind my ears. “No one knows. Fox doesn’t. My sister definitely doesn’t. They’d kill me, or at least wonder at my sanity.” I took another step forward, closing in on him. “But they don’t know how I feel. They aren’t in my head, or my heart. And I don’t care what they think.” I huffed out a breath. “Or I do, but not enough to give him up. Nothing and no one can make me do that.”
Except him.