Sempre: Redemption (Forever Series #2)(127)

Everyone murmured in agreement.

They said their good-byes, making Haven promise to stay in touch, before heading out. Dia departed right afterward, scurrying away to leave Haven and Carmine alone. They sat quietly, gazing at each other, the air between them growing thick with unspoken questions.

“Do you, uh . . .” he started, unsure of what to say. “Fuck, I don’t know. Do you wanna get coffee or something? Is that what people do?”

She laughed. “I don’t know about other people, but it sounds nice to me.”

Carmine’s nerves flared again, queasiness stirring in the pit of his stomach. He was afraid he would say something wrong and ruin any chance he had at fixing things.

He held his hand out to her but she simply gazed at it, the apprehensive look on her face making him second-guess himself. He dropped his hand, shoving it in his pocket when she didn’t take it. “You don’t have to. I just thought, well . . . Christ, why is this so f**king awkward?”

“I don’t know,” she said as she stood. “I mean, it’s just us, right? And it’s not that I don’t want to hold your hand, but you’re injured and I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Oh.” He pulled his hand back out to look at it. “You aren’t gonna hurt me.”

She bit her bottom lip nervously as she offered her hand to Carmine this time. He took it with a smile, lacing their fingers together and squeezing gently. Pain shot through his wrist and he winced, his hand clearly not fine despite what he had said.

“How bad is it?” Haven asked. “Honestly.”

“I don’t know,” he muttered, letting go of her and unwrapping the white bandage. “The medic said it wasn’t serious, but I didn’t go to the hospital.”

Haven surveyed his hand. The back of it was red and she pressed her fingers to the skin, sighing when he grimaced. “It’s infected.”

“How do you know?”

“Seriously?” She raised her eyebrows at Carmine like it was a stupid question. “We got hurt a lot in Blackburn and weren’t allowed to see doctors, so we learned to watch for the signs. I’ve seen people die from wounds less severe than this.”

“Oh,” he said, looking at his hand. “Can’t I just soak it in peroxide? Get some Neosporin?”

“So stubborn,” she muttered, lacing their fingers together once more. “It’s better to get antibiotics, so go to the doctor. Please?”

He sighed, resigned and partly annoyed that she knew how to get to him. All it took was a f**king please. “I’ll make an appointment tomorrow, but right now I have a, uh . . . whatever this is. A date, I guess.”

A small smile curved Haven’s lips at those words.

They headed around the side of the house to avoid seeing anyone as they left, because Carmine wasn’t in the mood for their pity disguised as sympathy. He was on edge as they walked down the street, keeping his head down but acutely aware of everything going on around them. It didn’t matter what Corrado had said—he couldn’t stop his paranoia. Salvatore was still out there, somewhere, and until he was sure that was dealt with, there was no way he would be able to relax.

Carmine let go of her when they reached his house and unlocked the front door. She stepped inside, her eyes darting around curiously. It didn’t escape Carmine’s notice that she cringed at the utter mess.

“Uh, kitchen, dining room, living room, bathroom and laundry room or whatever,” he said, pointing out the areas on the first floor. “The room down the hall across from the living room used to be my father’s office when I was a kid but right now it’s just full of boxes. I never bothered to unpack everything.”

“You’ve been here over a year and you still haven’t unpacked?”

“No.”

“Have you cleaned at all in that time?”

He blinked a few times, gazing at her, but didn’t bother answering that question. “Make yourself at home. I’ll be right back.”

Carmine left her alone in the hallway as he headed upstairs and kicked off his shoes, tossing them into the closet before stripping out of his clothes. He put on a pair of jeans and a green long-sleeved t-shirt, slipping his Nike’s on before going into the bathroom. He wet his hair and attempted to run his fingers through it, the act making his hand viciously throb. He rooted through the cabinets and found a bottle of peroxide, the wound scorching as he poured it on his hand.

He headed back downstairs and found Haven in the living room, staring at the covered piano. She glanced back at him questioningly. “Carmine, who’s Molly?”

He froze, caught off guard.

“It’s okay if she was, uh, you know . . . it’s not a big deal.” She grimaced, her reaction at odds with her words. “I just wondered if you and her . . .”

“Molly’s not a person,” he said, shaking his head. “Molly’s a drug. I wanted to feel better and got hooked on it. It probably would’ve killed me . . . well, f*ck, it almost did kill me, but I’d definitely be dead by now if Corrado hadn’t intervened.”

“He got you off of it?”

“You can say that.”

She stared at Carmine as she took in his words. ”Did it work?”

His brow furrowed. ”I told you I stopped.”