Sempre (Forever Series #1)(9)

Principal Rutledge looked at him. “Do you think you’ll need stitches?”

Carmine shrugged, but the man didn’t wait for him to respond. “Yes, we do have a procedure in place for injured students . . . I understand that . . . With all due respect, I don’t think it’s that serious . . . No, you’re right; I’m not a doctor.” He paused, his eyes bulging. “Yes, the school’s insured, but I don’t think this is a case of negligence.”

Carmine slowly smirked. Most people didn’t know what type of man his father truly was, but he managed to terrify the shit out of them anyway.

“I’ll send him right over.” The principal hung up, eyeing him cautiously. “You need to go to the hospital to be checked out. I should’ve sent you right away. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Carmine stood. “Yeah, I don’t know, either.”

* * *

Carmine went through the emergency room entrance at the hospital, bypassing the nurse’s station for his father’s office on the third floor. Vincent sat at his desk with his arms crossed over his chest. He motioned for Carmine to come closer and checked his wound. “You should get a few stitches.”

“Nice.”

Vincent removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “What were you thinking?”

“He started it.”

His father shook his head. “It’s never your fault, is it? There are only going to be so many ‘get out of jail free’ cards, Carmine. Someday you’re going to get yourself in a situation that has no way out, and you’re finally going to have to learn to live with the consequences.”

Carmine scoffed. “Right back at you.”

Vincent walked him down to a room in the emergency room, and Carmine took a seat on one of the stiff beds as he waited to be sewn up. After a few minutes, the door opened and a young blonde-haired woman in hot pink scrubs stepped in. “My, my . . . look who it is.”

“Jen.” Carmine nearly gagged as he said her name. If ever the term gold digger was to make it into the dictionary, Carmine was sure her picture would be plastered beside it. Even he wouldn’t touch her, but his father had. He’d walked in on them one day. The memory of what he’d seen was something he often tried to drink away.

Three stitches and a stolen double dose of Percocet later, Carmine strolled toward the exit, feeling like he was floating on air. Vincent cornered him in front of the building, still scowling. “Go straight home. We’ll talk when I get there.”

Carmine mock-saluted him as he made his way to the parking lot. His car was parked in a spot reserved for a doctor, right in the front near the building. Reaching into his pocket for his keys, his brow furrowed when he felt a piece of paper. “Fuck.”

He’d forgotten about the list, after all.

He climbed into the car, debating for a moment before driving through town. He bypassed the road that led toward home and instead took the highway to Lisa’s.

Since he was going to be in trouble, he figured he might as well make it worth it.

* * *

Haven hummed while she worked.

It was a habit she’d had all of her life. Her mama used to say that before Haven could talk, she hummed, mimicking the lullabies she’d sung to her at night in the stables. It had calmed her as a baby, soothed her, and as she went about her work, it had a similar effect.

The words to the songs were long forgotten, but the melodies continued to play in her head. It brought Haven back to an earlier time—a time when things were still innocent. She’d hum, and suddenly the sun shined a bit brighter, the world around her not as dark as she knew it could be.

Used to having every detail of her life controlled, she had a hard time sorting through things on her own. She should’ve gotten clarification, because nothing should be assumed, but she was so afraid of making a mistake that she couldn’t force the questions out. She’d already upset Dr. DeMarco once asking something. How many chances would she get before he snapped?

So she did whatever came naturally to her. That afternoon, she scrubbed the hardwood floors and cleaned the bathrooms. She dusted and vacuumed, but stayed away from every room with a lock. She found a clear bottle in the supply closet, labeled in black lettering that it was for the windows. They were the only dirty part of the house, so she cleaned them as high up as she could reach.

By three o’clock, Haven was fresh out of things to do.

She was sorting through the pantry when the alarm in the foyer beeped and the front door opened. Footsteps headed her direction and her heart thumped wildly. Panicked, she darted for the doorway, irrationally planning to hide, and collided with Dominic when he stepped into the kitchen. “Whoa, Twinkle Toes. Warn me next time you wanna dance.”

Instinctively, she backed up a few steps. “I’m sorry.”

“No biggie,” he said, heading for the refrigerator. “You hungry?”

Haven watched the doorway for his company, realizing after a moment he was talking to her. She stammered, her stomach growling before she could get out a coherent thought.

He laughed. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

He slapped some ham and cheese between two slices of bread and grabbed a paper towel, holding it out to her. She stared at the sandwich with surprise but took it carefully. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d eaten anything, too nervous to touch their food on her own.