Sonny knew it was going to be easier for us to blame him instead of her, because this truth…it was a killer.
Luci was like him in that way. I always saw it as them being doormats. Allowing people to just trample all over them. But I suddenly recognized the strength it took to absorb the blows from the world to protect the ones they loved.
I recognized it because I didn’t have that kind of strength. I had inherited Janis Nicole Hickey’s cowardice. When things got hard, or uncomfortable, instead of taking the blows and working it out, she fucking ran from the work and pain.
All she cared about was herself.
I didn’t feel the maternal urge in me to have kids, but I still saw them as innocent little beings who needed to be cared for and protected. I’d been around a lot of dark shit in my life, people who seemed like they were put on this earth to corrupt it, and from that experience…I knew children and animals were the definitions of true innocence.
That’s why kids and animals sense bad vibes from people and places better than adults can. There are no grey areas there. It’s one or the other. Yet…they still come into the world with pure hearts, not understanding what it means to hate—not until someone teaches it to them or does something that makes them feel it.
I didn’t hate Janis back then. I didn’t even hate my dad.
Not until she made me believe my dad was killing her and she had to get away or her life would end.
I hated Sonny Girardi since that day he turned his back on us.
I loved and defended her even when she did.
The truth my sister gave me was a hand turning my snow globe upside down, and my insides felt twisted, my thoughts and feelings floating around, about to land in entirely different places.
Because my life was entirely different.
I loved my dad for the sacrifice he made for us—so we would never feel this pain.
I loathed Janis Hickey for being a manipulative, abusive, self-absorbed bitch, plain and simple.
Nazzareno’s arm tightened around me, reminding me he was there, and I strummed my fingers against his skin. He’d been holding me like this all night, giving me a soft place to land.
We were supposed to be leaving, but instead, Nazzareno made the decision for us to stay longer.
For however many days and nights, he took turns with my sisters staying with me. If he wasn’t with me, he wasn’t far. Usually helping around the villa. He brought me countless meals and snacks every day, feeding me. Even when I grinned some and turned my head, he insisted.
“Have you ever tried to coax a wild bird into your palm?” He set the spoon close to my mouth and I opened. It was the most delicious soup I’d ever eaten. Minestrone. My sister said Nazzareno had bought all the ingredients and taught her how to make it. It was the kind of soup that warmed not only the bones but the soul.
“No,” I whispered, my voice hoarse.
He set the bowl to the side and went to wipe my mouth. I tried to move his hand, but he refused to let me. “You must earn their trust first. Once you do…you cannot squeeze them too tight or force them into a place they do not want to be. You must show them how loved they are, how wanted, and if it is right, they will willingly leave their heart in the cage. Then you leave the door open so they can come and go as they please, but they will always return to where their heart is. If something is special enough, the one it belongs to will always be back for it.”
We stared at each other.
I had no words.
I was too tired to form them.
He leaned in and kissed my forehead. “Rest now, little bird.”
I did, until it was time to go.
Nazzareno picked me up set me in the shower. He washed my hair and my body, then he dried my skin, carrying me to a seat after. He ran his hand over the scar on my foot, up my legs, just like he’d done the night he set me on the plinth, his lips following their trails. His lips were soft, but his kisses were firm, and I could feel them in my sluggish blood, knocking on my weary bones.
He wasn’t trying to get in.
He was already there.
He was reminding he was.
I wasn’t alone.
