I had only seen Jane’s father once, but it was enough. Her children were a mirror reflection of her father. Though something about their blue eyes reminded me of Nick, the son the sheriff had lost. Nick and my brother would forever be linked to that tragic night.
“Matteo. Mariano,” Brando called.
My father walked them to the door. Both of our boys had guarded expressions. So did the Stone boys. Judging from faces alone, neither side wanted to extend an olive branch.
Even though Jane and I had bad blood, along with how I felt about her husband, I thought this was for the best. The children should get along, especially since they’d be going to the same school.
Brando said, “I miei figli.”
My children.I knew he meant,my sons, though.
His sons knew that meant one thing—act like it.
Matteo straightened up. Mariano did too. Chins held high, eyes hard, ready to offer their hands on command. Mia somehow positioned herself into the mix, giving the Stone boys a cold look. She smiled at their daughter, though, and gave a shy wave.
The girl looked behind her, wondering if Mia had waved at someone else. Then she turned around and gave a shy wave back.
“Oh.” Jane sucked in a breath. “Her eyes—are just like yours.”
“So people say,” I said.
“Is she yours?” she blurted, this effing rude question addressed to Brando. Then she went as red as her children in the face, realizing that she had spoken aloud. She pushed her sons even closer, putting them between me and her. Or maybe between her and Brando, after he stiffened. “I meant—”
I had expected this from her, just as I had expected her to take in our home—she had kleptomaniac and sociopath tendencies. It was no secret that in the past she had stolen my pictures, my things, and destroyed them for her own fun. Not to mention that she had gone to Luca and asked him to have me killed. I didn’t trust her as far as I could throw her.
“I know what you meant,” I said, attempting to keep my tone level for the children’s sake.
“Say sorry,” she said to her boys, and I could see her pinching them under their arms.
Brando had noticed it too. He sent me a look that I interpreted at once:If we had a bunny, she’d fucking kill it.My mouth twitched but was overruled by my temper.
Anytime Brando was around, she’d almost go mad for him, still stuck on the idea that he hadn’t given her a chance, and if he had, he might not have fallen in love with me. I was no doctor, but it seemed Brando was the surface. Her issues went much deeper. Starting with her father.
“Sorry,” the boys mumbled at once. But their heads perked up when Matteo offered his hand, followed by Mariano.
“Sons, show the Stones out back. Maybe they’re hungry. Not you—” He made Marciano hold still. He was about to take the order and run with it.
We had food inside, but Brando had grilled outside.
Jane’s head popped up at this, and she went to speak, but Mia beat her to it.
“Would you like to come see the ballet room?” she asked the girl, who was around her age.
“Okay.” Her answer came with hesitation, but she went, nonetheless.
Jane’s fingers twitched, wanting more than anything to follow her daughter into that room. It housed the bulk of the memorabilia Brando had saved.
Jane found me watching her and turned her eyes to the ground. Where were we supposed to go from here? The bitch had wanted to have me killed. I wasn’t inviting her in, even if I felt for her circumstances. This peculiar sense I was born with didn’t shield me from the people who wronged me. If anything, I felt sympathy toward them because I understood the roots of their problems.
I went to open my mouth when Brando’s voice came out. “Sheriff.”
Jane’s face reflected mine. Shock.
“Yeah, your wife showed up on my doorstep,” Brando said into his phone. A beat of silence, but a word from the other end. “If she comes here again, my wife will file a complaint. You see, she tried to have my wife killed a while back. That’s not something a man forgets, ah? Your children are here, too, and they’re welcome to stay until you come and pick them up. Or she can take them and go.
“I’m not a man to make idle threats, Sheriff. When someone threatens my family, I take it personally. If I had known about her threat at the time, your wife wouldn’t be standing here today. We came to a place of neutrality, you and me. However, I’ll start a war over this. You won’t win.” The sheriff’s voice came through the other line, and then a moment later, Brando stuck his phone back in his pocket.
Smart move. Letting the sheriff know what his wife was up to. Since her version of things might be tainted later—such as she found Brando alone and they…I shook my head, my stomach clenching.
