Mafiosa (Blood for Blood #3)(17)
‘Of course not.’
A text flashed on screen:
Where have you gone? This is NOT funny.
I flipped the phone over and turned it on silent. ‘Why would I invite Luca?’
‘Because he was there when it happened,’ she said softly. ‘I think he would want to be there for you today.’
‘Why? To keep an eye on me? Can I not even grieve in private?’
Millie flinched. ‘No, just to be there for you. Like he was … after it happened.’
I shut my eyes, the memory of Luca’s arms around me rushing in. I remembered how safe I had felt with him, how gentle he was with me, the feel of his lips against my hair, his thumbs wiping tears from my cheeks. I remembered his heartbeat thudding against mine, and how sure I had been, in the dusky quiet of my room all those weeks ago, that it meant something real. I had never felt so close to someone before. I had never felt so seen.
How could I have been so wrong?
I shook my head. ‘He wouldn’t care, Mil. Trust me, his mind is on other things now. And besides, this day isn’t about him. It’s about my mom.’
‘I know,’ she said softly. ‘We’ll give her the goodbye she deserves.’
I looked out the window, at flashes of familiarity – at the open road that was taking me home, back to Cedar Hill.
‘Are you ready?’ she asked.
No. I’m not ready. I’m never going to be ready.
I closed my eyes and imagined the mask shifting into place. A smile painted over a frown. Bright eyes to hide the tears. ‘Yes,’ I lied. ‘I’m ready.’
I turned the radio back up. Taylor Swift filled the silence. There were no words for that moment, nothing to take away the sting of where we were going, of what today meant. Millie reached over and clasped my hand in hers.
‘Thank you, Mil.’
‘Of course,’ she said, her voice cracking. I made sure not to turn my head because if I saw the tears streaming down her face, then I’d lose the flicker of composure that was holding me together. I needed that, just for today. Just for goodbye.
CHAPTER EIGHT
UNINVITED GUESTS
‘Where’s your mom’s car? Did you take it to the Falcones with you?’
‘Maybe it’s in the auto shop or something,’ I brushed Millie’s questions off as we pulled up outside my house. The familiarity was not a welcome one. The empty driveway taunted me: Donata’s cronies had been here. ‘This is tough.’
‘I know,’ she said, leaning her head on my shoulder. ‘I’ll come in with you. We don’t have to stay long. Just get what you need.’
I steeled myself: a deep breath, a careful rearrangement of all the memories pressing against my heart. I glanced at my phone. Six more missed calls. Three texts from Luca. Two from Nic. One from Elena. (Girl, get your skinny ass back here now unless you want me to see you into the next life. Classy.) Luca’s texts had gone from angry to worried, and I was starting to feel bad. I had thought he would just infer from my absence that I needed some space.
I composed a reply to Luca, ignoring Elena’s entirely.
I’ll be back later. I’m scattering my mother’s ashes today.
Please don’t call me again.
It even hurt to type it. I tried to rub the pain from my chest, but it was no use. I was just going to have to breathe through it.
I unlocked the front door and we stood there side by side on the threshold, staring at the setting of my old life.
Welcome home, Sophie. Please enjoy this momentary stab in the heart.
The house was undisturbed, save for some drops of dried blood on the hall floor. Jack had obviously tracked back through here after I stabbed him in the eye.
How strange that the sight of blood no longer bothered me.
How strange that another’s pain would cause me such peace of mind.
How strange that I would wish my uncle, one of the closest people to me in the world, dead, and soon.
And that I would be the one to kill him.
‘Let’s be quick and careful about this,’ I warned Millie. ‘Stay by the door and keep it open, just in case there are any Marinos floating around here. If you hear or see anything, don’t hesitate to scream.’
‘You’re joking, right?’ Millie snorted. ‘I think you’ve been spending too much time with Felice Falcone, Soph.’
‘Well, you’re not wrong about that.’ I wished I was joking about the warning, but I knew I had to be on my guard. If the Marino family could smuggle my mother’s car out of Cedar Hill unnoticed, they could certainly get into my house, and I wasn’t dumb enough to stay even a minute longer than was necessary.
‘Although,’ added Millie, her tone turning sceptical as her attention fell on the bloodied floorboards. ‘That does look suspiciously like blood. Or maybe someone was just eating a scone really messily, and the jam got everywhere …’
‘Yeah, sure. Maybe Jack decided to make himself a random British teatime snack … you know, right after I stabbed him in the eye with a switchblade.’
Millie scrunched her eyes shut. ‘Oh, I really didn’t need that mental image again.’
I took the stairs two at a time. In my bedroom, I shoved the remainder of my clothes into a bag and grabbed a photo of my family – a Christmas shot from three years ago. We were dressed in matching Santa hats and hideously oversized reindeer sweaters, and smiling gleefully at the camera. My father looked at least twenty years younger, his face unlined by worry. My mother was as beautiful as ever, her hair framing her face in a golden halo as she pressed her cheek to mine. I looked at myself in the photo, and saw a stranger staring back. My hair was bright and glossy, my skin tanned. I was smiling so much my cheeks were probably hurting.