Old Flame Dante’s Story (Morelli Family 8)

“Mateo?” I could hear the concern in my own voice. I was too far out of my element to mask it. I let go of the door and took a hesitant step forward.

At the sound of his name on my lips, his dark gaze focused more clearly on mine, but he didn’t speak. The emptiness I saw in his eyes only a moment earlier seemed to dissipate and I saw a storm brewing in its wake. My heart galloped in my chest. I swallowed, ignoring my prickled instincts and reassuring myself, there’s no danger here.

I took in his scattered appearance again, then I took a closer look at Beth on the bed.

The bedding was an absolute mess. Blankets hanging half on the floor, a bunched up bedsheet, pillows thrown everywhere. It was a disaster. Beth often left the bed messy, but this was next level, even for her. It looked like a fight or a fuck took place. Knowing Mateo, I assumed it was the latter. Maybe they had a round of particularly rough, exhausting sex and she was recovering. Maybe he was having a crisis, realizing their relationship wasn’t fulfilling him no matter how hard he tried to force it.

Maybe I should have kept the purse and stayed downstairs.

Whatever was going on, I supposed I should be there for him. He was practically family. I cleared my throat and took a few steps closer, but first I glanced at Beth again to make sure she was sleeping and not just resting. If she overheard me talking to Mateo about their relationship problems, she would probably get cagey and snipe at me despite my good intentions.

“Did you guys have a fight?” I whispered to Mateo as I put the borrowed purse down on the bed.

His dark eyes looked haunted. One corner of his mouth tugged up. “I suppose you could say that.”

Utterly paranoid she would wake up, I looked her way again. It occurred to me maybe I should try to lure Mateo out of the bedroom and into their living area across the hall. I’d feel more comfortable talking to him with more privacy.

That time when I looked at her, though, something felt off. From a distance I hadn’t noticed the way her arm hung stiffly to the side. I tilted my head, moving forward unconsciously. The closer I got, the harder my heart began to beat. She wasn’t moving, not at all. Her chest wasn’t moving the way chests move when a person breathes.

All the signs were there, but I couldn’t connect the dots, not until I reached out and touched her arm. She didn’t move, and she was cool to the touch. Not cold, but definitely cooler than she should be. And pale. She was cold and pale.

My stomach dropped, but it couldn’t be. It was impossible. Beth was too young to die. I had to know, and even though logically I knew I could just voice my fears aloud and Mateo would tell me, I reached my hand to her neck to check her pulse.

She didn’t have one.

Gasping in horror, I jumped and started backing away from the body. Oh, my God. Beth couldn’t be… dead. I was tempted to feel for a pulse again, but I knew it would be pointless. I already checked and there wasn’t one. It wouldn’t come back. Somehow… somehow Beth was dead. Everything was coming together at a horrifying pace. My brain understood that she was dead, and that’s why Mateo looked the way he did, but how? Why?

Her recent unhappiness and disinterest in Mateo and the life they had together sprung to mind. I knew she was unhappy, but God, she couldn’t have been that desperate, could she?

Would she really kill herself to get away from him? To hurt him? I could imagine those spiteful thoughts going through her pretty head when she was being dramatic, but I couldn’t envision her actually acting on them. Who would give up their life just to spite someone they used to love? Mateo couldn’t have known she was that desperate. Surely if she had gone to him, if she had told him it was that bad…

I was struggling to process it all myself, but one loud, clear instinct emerged from the befuddlement. Mateo. I needed to go to Mateo. Oh, my God, did he just find her? He must be completely traumatized.

Swallowing, I looked over at him still sitting against the wall. He knew I was over there, but he wasn’t looking. Maybe he couldn’t look at her again. Maybe he just couldn’t deal with my grief on top of his own.

Conscious of that, I tried to put a lid on my own feelings. I was still reeling, but I wasn’t the one who had just lost my partner. I could deal with my own feelings later. Beth was my friend, but she was the mother of his baby.