The Secret Kept from the Italian

‘You couldn’t have realised—’

‘No, but I should have. I should have known. I should have been careful instead of reckless. Should have thought of him rather than seeking my own stupid adrenaline rush.’

‘So what happened?’ Maisie asked quietly.

‘It started to rain. He wanted to stop. I insisted we keep going—racing down an empty street in the middle of the night.’ He shook his head, regret lancing through him yet again. ‘It was crazy. So crazy. It was as if I couldn’t think. Couldn’t see sense. And because I was his big brother, he did what I said. He put his foot on the accelerator and jumped ahead of me.’ He closed his eyes again, the images flashing against his lids, impossible to erase. ‘The car spun out of control. I watched it happen. Saw it crash into a barrier, and then burst into flames.’ He stopped, unable to go on even though he knew he had to. He’d never spoken to anyone about what he’d seen. Doing it now felt like an exorcism. ‘Stood and did nothing as my brother burned to death.’

‘Oh, Antonio.’ Her voice was full of sorrow instead of judgement and for some inexplicable reason that made Antonio angry.

He shook off her palm and glared at her. ‘Don’t you understand?’ he demanded. ‘I as good as killed him.’

Maisie regarded him steadily, unfazed by his sneering fury. ‘I know you feel as if you did,’ she said quietly, her gaze still on him, ‘but you didn’t.’

‘You can’t say that.’

‘Why not?’

He shifted restlessly where he sat, her questions both infuriating and unsettling him. ‘Because you weren’t there. You didn’t see. You don’t know—’

‘And you do? Why do you hate yourself so much, Antonio? Why can’t you forgive yourself? You didn’t know your brother was going to die. You never wanted to hurt him.’

‘But I did.’

‘What happened after your brother died?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘To your family.’

Her perception took his breath away. ‘I ruined my family,’ he said flatly. ‘Ruined it.’

‘Based on what you said about your parents fighting and your father’s depression, it seems it already had its problems.’

‘I made it a thousand times worse.’

‘Your brother’s death made it a thousand times worse,’ Maisie corrected. ‘But it’s been eleven years, Antonio. The grief never goes away, I know that, but you heal.’ She reached for him again, her fingertips brushing his cheek. ‘Why haven’t you healed?’

The question blindsided him. No one had ever asked him before. No one had ever known to ask. He realised in that moment just how broken he was inside, and how Maisie saw it. She’d seen it since the night she’d first met him, and he’d hated that, but in this moment it almost felt freeing. She saw him, and she was still here.

‘I don’t know why I haven’t,’ he admitted in a jagged voice, his eyes closed. ‘I just know it’s true.’

‘Healing only comes with forgiveness. You have to forgive yourself, Antonio. Even if there are people in your life who won’t.’

‘My parents hate me. They won’t speak to me.’ He tried to speak matter-of-factly and failed. ‘They haven’t spoken to me since Paolo’s funeral.’

‘That’s not your fault.’

‘Isn’t it?’

‘No.’

He opened his eyes, touched by the sincerity in her tone, and comforted by the sureness. ‘How can you be such a good person, Maisie Dobson?’ he asked quietly as he stared into her face, which was full of compassion and sorrow. ‘You’ve endured so much hardship. How can you still be kind? How can you still believe that good things happen?’

‘Because the alternative is too terrible,’ she answered quietly. ‘There would be no reason for living, no hope if I didn’t believe that there was a purpose to the pain, hope amidst the suffering.’

‘You’re too good for me.’ As soon as he said the words he knew how true they were. She was far too good for him. He’d corrupt her, ruin her, just as he had ruined his family. That was why he had stayed away.

Except he wasn’t staying away now. No, he was leaning forward, taking her hands in his, needing to ground himself in the wonderful reality of her touch, her acceptance.