“I can’t believe you—”
“Scarlett, I don’t miss the looks that pass between you and him. Something happened. I’m not talking about this morning.”
“Yes,” I admitted. “Before I left, at the bar. He and I…”Connectedseemed too personal, but I couldn’t think of any other word to describe it. “He knows how it feels to be left behind. So do I. That’s it. How can you even think—”
“If he can be a traitor to his own blood, tell me what he’d be to water.”
“What about me?”
“What about you?”
“I have a say in the situation,” I snapped.
“He’s looking for something. He’s desperate for it. I know how that feels too. I don’t want him to get confused. We’re friends—but that only goes so far. You’re my blood.”
I could tell he was going to great lengths to rein in his temper. And suspicion skittered up my neck. What he said next confirmed the feeling. “You didn’t call for me, baby.”
“He told you.”
He shook his head, taking a right and pulling into the church’s parking lot. After a bit of riding around, he pulled into a spot, shutting the car off. He looked straight ahead, watching the families and a few singletons file in to early morning mass.
“He didn’t have to. I know those marks. I’ve seen them before.”
“On Maggie Beautiful?”
He nodded. “I’m not her father, and I’m not her husband. So I never had a say. But I’ve walked a few out in my day.”
“Did any of them ever hurt you?”
He grinned at this, no humor. More of a reflection of his face when he killed that deranged man that tried to kill me. “I would’ve killed them first.”
I put a hand on his arm. He vibrated with anger. “Are you mad at me? For not telling you?”
“I can’t be. I should’ve been there to protect you. I’m angry with myself—for sleeping, for Mitch walking in and not me, for not being able to catch him in time, and for not taking you somewhere else. For subjecting you to the life that I used to live.”
I swallowed hard, for the first time connecting myself to Maggie Beautiful in a way that I had never done before. He never called her mother, but it was plain to see how much she had hurt him over the years. He had built an almost impenetrable wall around his heart as a child, and he’d learned to live there without complaint. With an acceptance not even known by some adults.
This was a glimpse inside the lonesome castle, a peek into why he had fought so hardnotto have me in the beginning—he was afraid of becoming Luca, setting me on the path to Maggie Beautiful.
“No, baby, I’m not mad. Stop crying.” He turned to me, wiping away the cool tears that slid down my hot cheeks. “If you keep crying, I’ll hate myself even more.”
“It’s not because of him.” I waved a hand, and he caught it, taking it in his own. “I—”
“I know why you lied. A good woman—” his voice took on a similar tone to the one I had taken with him the night in Mitch’s truck, when I gave him the overflow line “—will lie, or commit any random sin, trade a piece of her soul so her man doesn’t have to part with his. You know what I’m going to do.”
I closed my eyes, fresh tears gliding down cheeks, and nodded.
He kissed me briefly before he got out of the car and came to my side, opening the door. After sighing, he looked at the church seriously. “All things considered, there are worse places we could be today. Let’s see what can be salvaged.” He gave me his hand. “Time to go.”
* * *
Old Emory Snow lived only a block from our house on Snow. After church, we waited for him to leave, and then we followed behind. He knew Brando and I were coming, but Emory was going to be a surprise.
The three of us dawdled on his doorstep, waiting for him to answer the knock.
“Stop fidgeting,” I told Emory.
“He is almost here. I can hear his breath through the door,” Emory said, moving from foot to foot. He was sweating profusely, very unlike his usual gracious demeanor.
