I laughed and inched closer. “Seriously? Carmine reacted that way?”
“I don’t think he’d ever been cut before. So I calmed him down and got him back to my place. We cleaned the wound, but it kept bleeding. So I’m like, Carmine, we gotta stitch you. And do you know what he said?”
“What?”
“He said, Mal, if you fucking touch me, I’m going to throw you out a window. I had to wrestle the idiot down and get him situated while he writhed and cursed and tried to murder me. Took forever and he only needed a few stitches. It was no big deal. But god, he was so pissed. Didn’t talk to me for a week.” He leaned his head back, grinning. “I loved that bastard.”
“He told me about that, but his version of the story was a little different.”
“I’m sure it was.”
I watched him for a while. He closed his eyes and went quiet, and his big, broad chest rose and fell. I looked at the constellation of pink, puckered skin, at the tiny marks and the long, jagged rips. Mal was a map of hurt and pain, and I couldn’t begin to imagine how much he’d been through. Carmine had always looked up to Mal. He’d marveled at how much the big guy could take.
I touched his thigh. His eyes fluttered open. “You still here?”
“Still here. Making sure you’re not dead.”
“I think I’m gonna make it through.” His voice was slurred. Tired and drunk.
“Why’d you do it? Why’d you take the fall for him back then?”
He sighed and shook his head. “It was easy. He had things going for him. He had a future. I was gonna end up in prison sooner or later. Figured sooner was just as good.”
“That’s not true.” My fingers tightened on his leg. I moved closer. “We talked about it after. He said he didn’t want you to do it. He tried to stop you.”
“Yeah, he did.”
“You did it anyway.”
“Loved him. He deserved better.” He took a deep breath and let it out. “Shit, Cap. You of all people should understand.”
His eyes closed again. I went quiet and watched him breathing, in and out, steady and rhythmic. His face slackened, and I was pretty sure he fell asleep.
I understood. Carmine had been that kind of guy. He’d had a glow about him, like this strange, golden aura that had made people want to be around him. Made them want to do things for him. He’d cared about Mal more than anyone in the world, but that had paled in comparison to the way Mal had felt about him.
Mal would’ve died for Carmine. No question at all.
But I wondered if Carmine would’ve done the same.
Didn’t matter now. Carmine was gone and we were left. Together in our grief, but alone. Dealing with it on our own.
I shifted forward, sliding onto the bed beside him. Mal stirred, curled closer to me. I leaned my head against his big shoulder and put my hand on his chest. I felt his heart beating, slow and steady, like the pulse deep inside the Earth. His breath was a rumble, and his body was a mountain. He was warm, so warm, and I felt comfortable and safe in a way I’d never experienced before.
I’d never felt like this with Carmine. I’d tried, once or twice. I’d wanted to feel it. I had been supposed to marry him—but it had never been there. We’d been friends and nothing more.
But with Mal, it was different.
I wanted to deny it. Pure sorrow for Carmine and insecurity and guilt all tore at me like jackals every time I pictured Mal getting closer to me. I wanted him and always had, ever since we’d first met. He’d been the friend I’d wanted, not Carmine, even though it had been Carmine I was destined to marry.
Now, it felt like I was betraying my dead friend’s memory by getting close to the man I really needed.
I closed my eyes and thought about the last time we were all together—before our lives had been broken to pieces.
* * *
“Cap.”
I blinked a few times. The room was darker than I remembered. Wasn’t it just light out a second ago?
“Cap. You’re drooling on me.”
I sat up like a shot.
Mal grinned, head cocked. I wiped at his bare chest—but there was nothing. “Oh, you dick.”
He laughed and grimaced with pain. “Ah, shit.”
“Serves you right.” I straightened myself up. We were alone in his room. “What time is it?”
“A little after eight.”
I jumped up and looked around, bewildered. “After eight? Oh, shit. I was supposed to eat dinner with my dad an hour ago.”
He frowned deeply. “Looks like you missed it.”
“He’s going to kill me. And I mean that literally.”
“You can stay here.”
“No,” I said, pacing back and forth. “I have to go back. He’ll rip the city apart looking for me, and he’ll eventually find us both. We can’t afford it.”