Sempre: Redemption (Forever Series #2)(6)

Carmine’s chest tightened with guilt at her words.

“You can’t blame yourself for decisions other people make, miss,” Officer Baranski said, standing to leave. “I appreciate your time. If you think of anything else that might help us find Nicholas, give me a call.”

He pulled out a business card and Haven gingerly took it from him. Vincent showed the officer out and Haven sat still for a moment before crumpling the officer’s card up in a tight fist.

The tension in the room mounted. Carmine couldn’t stand the silence and turned to her as soon as the front door closed. “You really think this is your fault?”

“Of course,” she said quietly. “If I hadn’t—”

“That’s ridiculous,” he interrupted, not giving her a chance to explain. “You didn’t cause any of this.”

“But I did,” she said. “Don’t you see? All of it was me, Carmine, all because I’m some Princi—whatever! A stinking princess! Your mother and Nicholas died, Corrado got hurt, and you gave your life away like it didn’t even matter! What’s next? How much more is going to happen because of me?”

Carmine knew it then, seeing the tears flooding her sorrowful eyes, tears she had been holding back for weeks. The button had been pushed. The nuclear bomb had been ignited. Their fragile bubble of contentment was about to f**king explode.

“I won’t let you take that burden,” he said. “And don’t you dare feel guilty for what I did. If you wanna blame anyone for it, blame me. I did it because I wanted to, not because I had to. I did it because I love you, Haven, and you didn’t force me to f**king love you. I did that shit all on my own. And I don’t regret any of it.”

“Why not?”

“Why would I? You’re finally safe. You’re finally free.”

“Am I?” Haven shook her head with frustration. “Am I safe? Am I free?”

“Of course you are.” His brow furrowed. “Why wouldn’t you be?”

“I don’t know,” she said, tears running down her cheeks. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“We’ve talked about this,” he said, throwing up his hands in exasperation. “It means you can do anything you want—go where you wanna go, be what you wanna be, do what you wanna do. Fuck, be who you wanna be.”

“Can you?”

The question caught Carmine off guard. “Uh . . .”

Her voice cracked from distress. “Don’t you see, Carmine? How can I ever be free if you aren’t? How can I do those things if you can’t?”

“I think . . .” A ringing cell phone in Carmine’s pocket shattered his train of thought. He trailed off, pulling it out, and didn’t have to look at the screen to know it was Salvatore. Haven stood up without a word and started out of the room, but he called after her. “Wait, Haven. We need to talk about this so just . . . wait, okay? This will only take a minute.”

She stopped near the foyer and turned to him, tears still falling from her eyes. She said nothing.

His phone continued to ring in his hand and he groaned, knowing he needed to answer it. Taking a few steps over to the couch, Carmine sat down, his back to her. “Yes, sir?”

“I wondered if you were going to take my call,” Salvatore said.

“Of course I was,” he muttered, dropping his head and running his hand through his hair. He spotted the cop’s business card in a ball on the floor and snatched it up, frowning. “It’s just hectic here. I didn’t hear my phone.”

“Ah, well, I’m just calling to see how your holiday’s going. I assume Corrado has arrived, but I can’t get him to answer a phone, either.”

Carmine’s brow furrowed. A social call? “Yeah, he’s here. I think he’s asleep.”

“Makes sense,” Sal said. “He’s still recuperating, so I’m sure he needs his rest. It hasn’t been the same without him. It’ll be wonderful to have both of you on the job after Christmas.”

The color drained from Carmine’s face. “Excuse me?”

“Corrado didn’t tell you yet?” Sal asked. “I’ve requested he bring you back with him. I’ve been more than accommodating with your, uh, situation, but it’s time you build your life here. Chicago’s your home now. It was always supposed to be.”

“But it’s only been—”

“It’s been a month,” he said pointedly. “There’s nothing left there for you.”

Carmine knew there was no arguing with Salvatore. He had made his decision and nothing would change his mind. “Yeah, okay. Fine.”

“I’m glad that’s settled,” Sal said. “I look forward to having you close by, Principe. Tell Corrado to call me when he wakes up. Buon Natale.”

Carmine hung up and glanced out of the room, wondering how much Haven had heard, and frowned when he saw the deserted foyer.

She hadn’t waited for him, after all.

* * *

“Is he okay?”

Vincent looked up from the papers on his desk, peering through his reading glasses at his son. Carmine strolled into the office, throwing himself down in the leather chair across from him. He slouched, his body language one of nonchalance, but Vincent could see the genuine concern in his eyes. “Your uncle?”