“I’ve been trying to!” Then she sighed, almost resigned to do this here. She looked up at me, then down at her crimson rubber boots, which matched the color of her cheeks. She said something too low for me to hear.
“Come again,” I said, leaning forward.
“I think Romeo was Juliette’s...” She bit her lip, clearly trying to decide how to say this.
“You think Juliette was a—”
“I do.”
Fucking Romeo! The woman was getting married next month. What the hell was he thinking? No, no, I knew what he was thinking with. And it wasn’t the head on top of his shoulders.
“Brando!” Scarlett took me by the arm when she caught up with me. “Stop!” When I did, she lifted a hand to my cheek. “Stop,” she said softly. “Don’t make things worse. He’s hurting.”
“She left.”
“Yes,” she said just as softly. “He’s not handling it well.”
“No doubt,” I said.
“I knew you’d understand, even if you didn’t experience it. Be his brother,mio angelo. He needs that right now.”
I nodded, taking her hand in mine, kissing her knuckles. I found him a few steps later, out in the yard with Donato, going round for round.
His eyes were crazed. His body was tense. His veins seemed to rise even higher above his skin. His hair was as wild as his eyes. Blood trickled down his nose, sliding over his mouth, dripping to the grass. He had no shirt on, just a pair of sweatpants Scarlett had bought for him, and they were stained with grass and more blood.
“Abbastanza!” I shouted at the two forms circling each other like bloodthirsty lions. Donato had his own issues with his woman and had been looking for a fight to release the pent-up tension.
Both of them stilled, fists still raised in battle. The crowd that surrounded them shifted, giving me room.
“I would not allow him to destroy the cottage,” Donato said, still keeping an eye on Romeo and wiping at his own bloodied nose. Romeo was quick. “He—”
I held a hand up to silence him. I motioned for Donato to move out of the “ring” and took his place.
“You are going to fight me now, brother?” Romeo said, his breath coming in quick pants, though not from the fight. He was feeling emotions he didn’t know how to deal with. Jesus, it was like looking in a mirror. His fist came out and struck at me like a swift-moving snake. Scarlett gasped. A few women echoed her surprise. I dodged just in time, the force of his punch whistling past my ear. Close, but not close enough.
Lifting my hands, I made it clear to him that I wasn’t there to fight him. His eyes were too crazed to see the truth. “I will not fight you, brother,” I said in Italian. “Non lo farò.”
“You think I cannot take you, brother?” he said in Italian.
I watched him carefully. “That’s not why my hands are up.”
He watched me, suspicion laced with rage pulsating through his bloodstream. Finally, he relaxed some, tilting his head.
Lowering my hands, I opened and closed my arms. I spoke to him in Italian. “You are my brother. I’ve been where you are.”
It took him a few minutes to process this. It took me the same amount of time to process the amount of intimacy between us all of a sudden. I could feel him yielding to me, to the comfort I was willing to offer. I didn’t like it, it was unnatural, for the both of us, but I soldiered through.
I glanced at Scarlett, and she gave me a subtle nod.
“She left,” he said simply, and with the admission, he seemed to fizzle out some.
I nodded.
“She returned my rib and then stole it back.”
I nodded again.
Mitch started herding the group back toward the cottages, telling them to give us some space. Donato knocked Romeo on the shoulder before dispersing with the crowd.
