Sempre: Redemption (Forever Series #2)(20)

Carmine grabbed his bag, leaving the smashed guitar laying on the floor, and turned for the front door. He came face-to-face with his brother as he blocked his path. “Don’t expect me to be there for you when you fall apart,” Dominic said, nostrils flaring. “The only thing you’ll ever hear from me is I told you so.”

* * *

Haven peeled her eyes open and glanced at the clock, surprised to see it read noon. A chill ran through her and her throat ached as she tried to clear it, an uncomfortable tickle deep inside her chest. She clung to the blanket for warmth, covering her nude body as she looked around.

No sign of Carmine anywhere.

Begrudgingly climbing out of bed, Haven took a hot shower before dressing in some comfortable clothes, feeling worse and worse as time trickled past. Her head started pounding, her eyes burning and body sore. Although she shivered, unable to get warm, her skin felt hot to the touch, like flames coursed through her bloodstream.

She spotted a piece of paper laying on Carmine’s pillow and eyed it suspiciously, seeing her name written across the front. That feeling Haven had fought hard to push back the night before hit her again. Picking up the paper, her hands shook as she opened it, seeing it was a letter written in Carmine’s messy scrawl.

Haven,

FDR said freedom couldn’t be bestowed, it had to be achieved. I think I was in fifth grade when I heard about him, and I remember being pissed because I didn’t see the point in learning history when it was over. I was an ignorant little shit, but I guess that’s the point. I took a lot for granted in life and didn’t appreciate the little things—things you missed out on. It’s not okay what happened to you, and it’s only from knowing you that I understand that. I wish more people could see it. More people need to see you. Maybe then the world wouldn’t be such a f**ked-up place.

I should’ve known telling you that you were free wouldn’t make you so. Freedom has to be achieved, and that’s exactly what you have to do, tesoro. You have to go out there and achieve that shit. You have the world at your fingertips, a life waiting for you full of opportunities you can’t have if you stay with me. And I know they’re dreams you want, dreams you’ve always had, and you shouldn’t sacrifice them for me. You’ve sacrificed enough of your life because of selfish motherf*ckers, and I’m not that selfish . . . not anymore. You made sure of that.

By the time you read this, I’ll be gone. I can’t stay here. It’s not fair to you, and I’d never forgive myself for denying you a real life. A life away from all of this bullshit, where you can just be Haven. Go be you and not what people tried to make you. You have to go show those motherf*ckers what they’ve been missing by not knowing you. Show them they can’t hold my girl down.

And don’t you be f**king scared. You’re ready for the world, Haven, and it’s been waiting eighteen years for you. Don’t make that shit wait any longer.

Carmine

Haven jumped up, the letter falling to the bedroom floor as she bolted down the two flights of stairs, tripping over her feet along the way. Tears flowed from her eyes as she burst into the foyer, hesitating briefly when she accidently kicked Carmine’s broken, discarded guitar.

After fumbling with the keypad, furiously pressing numbers until she got the code right, she opened the front door. Cold air blasted her and stole the breath from her lungs, her bare feet slapping against frozen wood as she ran out onto the icy porch.

The Mazda was still parked out front, the windows covered in a thin layer of frost. Last night’s snow had already started to melt, but a few white patches remained on the car. It was untouched, unmoved, and the sight of it made hope sweep through her.

“Carmine?” she called, her shaky exhale a cloud of fog. “Where are you?”

“He left.”

She swung around at the sound of the voice, her heart beating wildly. Dr. DeMarco stood in the doorway, sympathy shining from his eyes. Haven’s stomach churned ruthlessly at the sight of it. No. No way. Nuh-uh.

“You’re wrong,” she said. “He didn’t.”

“He did.”

“No!” she yelled. “He’s still here!”

“He’s not.”

“I have to change his mind!”

“You can’t.”

His voice lacked all trace of emotion, the words coming out as if there was simply no room for argument, but she couldn’t accept them. It couldn’t be too late.

She waved frantically toward the Mazda. “His car’s still here!”

“He didn’t drive.”

“He wouldn’t leave it!”

“He left it for you.”

“There’s no way! He loves that car!”

“He loves you more.”

Haven lost her composure at those words. Tears streamed down her cheeks as a loud sob ripped from her chest, echoing through the quiet yard. Her knees buckled and she collapsed on the porch, shaking her head.

“That’s not right,” she cried. “It can’t be right. He wouldn’t just leave!”

Dr. DeMarco continued to stand there, not moving from the spot in the doorway. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” she asked with disbelief. “You’re sorry?”

Before he could respond, he was shoved out of the way as Dominic burst past him. He crouched down on the porch and pulled Haven into his arms, softly shushing her as he glared at his father.