Dark Heart (Dark Heart 1)

“Luca, this is my younger sister Becca.”

“Hi, Becca. It’s nice to meet you.”

Becca flaps her right hand—the only one she can control—and I’m surprised when Luca reaches for it, closing his big hand around her smaller one and giving it a light shake.

Becca laughs again, and Maura wipes her mouth, and Luca doesn’t even flinch. I think of course he doesn’t. Why did I doubt him?

Still, I watch in shock as he tells Becca a long, one-sided story about the time he and his brother decided to make an obstacle course in their house with their mom’s magazines, couch pillows, and two pitchers of red Kool-Aid.

“Our mom was rabbioso.” He says the word dramatically, making Bec smile again. “Do you know what that means?”

Maura smiles knowingly, and after a brief pause, Luca says, “Furious. She was so mad at us, we had to clean the bathrooms for the rest of the year.”

“Bambini cattivi,” Maura murmurs, and Luca looks up at her.

“La tua famiglia viene dal vecchio paese.”

“Si.”

“Maura knows what’s up, huh?” Luca says to Becca. “I bet Maura is your buddy.”

I nod. “Maura and Bec make all kinds of craft projects. They dance and they do hammock time and therapy. Maura and I both read a lot to Bec. Bec is a good reader, but her eyes have been giving her some trouble, and I don’t think she minds too much if we read to her.”

“Elise has told me a lot of stuff about both of you. Good stuff,” he says to Becca, who smiles again.

“What are you guys doing next?” I ask Maura.

“I think we’ll watch a bit of TV and go for an early bed time.”

“Luca and I are going to walk up to the garden for a minute. Then he’s going home. So I’ll join you for that TV. Sound good?”

Becca smiles, and I can tell she’s tired. It’s a lot of effort for her, asking her muscles to coordinate for a smile.

“Thanks for letting me come over,” Luca says to Bec. “Maybe some other time I’ll drop back by?”

She blinks a few times, big brown eyes trained on his face for just a second before swinging back down to her strap-crossed lap. Luca’s hand moves over her head, the motion so gentle I think his palm barely touches her hair. Then he gets to his feet, looking so tall in the small space of our laundry room. He turns to me, and he’s uncomfortable, not sure how to depart—even though I told him we would have to be quick.

“We’re going to go, you guys.” I brush my fingers over Becca’s forehead. “See you soon, sweetheart.”

“Nice to meet you both.” He gives a little crooked smile to Maura. “Prenditi cura delle mie ragazze.”

I can barely look at him as we walk to the elevator…even as I feel the tension rolling off him. We step in, and he steps closer to me. I can feel him looking down at me, can feel him wondering what to say as tears fill my eyes.

He murmurs a curse, and then I hear him blow a breath out. I’m crying. I’m covering my eyes. He moves in closer. I can feel him wanting to touch me and trying not to.

“Elise…did I—”

I shake my head and just keep shaking it as I try to pull myself together. “No.” I look up at him, laughing. “You were perfect.” That’s the problem. He’s so perfect it makes me scared. I don’t know why; maybe I’m afraid I’ll lose him.

His arms twine around me as the elevator opens on the rooftop level. He leads me out into the garden—cold and humid with the nighttime. There’s a breeze that cuts me to the bone. I’m shivering and he is leaning in the corner of the terrace, wrapping me in his arms, then unzipping his black hoodie…helping me into it.

I’m between his legs and in his arms, my cheek pressed to his chest so I can hear his heartbeat.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper after a long time has passed.

“Why?”

“For freaking out when it went so well. You were really perfect with her. It was beautiful.”

He takes in a breath and lets it out. More time passes, with the breeze in my hair. My tears are cold on my cheeks. His body is so warm. Finally my Luca says, “It was really easy. You know…because she’s sort of like a part of you.”Chapter ThirteenLucaEverything is different after I meet her sister. More is given—gladly. More is taken—greedily. All things are assumed, and it feels right for us to be that way. It feels better than right.

And it’s a good thing, because it’s the only thing that does. In every other way, the next three months are a wash of bullshit. Dad started sleeping somewhere else most nights. It breaks my mother’s heart, but not a damn thing anyone can do. And when he is home, he’s got more piss in him then he used to.