“The second part of the answer,” I whispered. “What is it?”
“You know the answer. And you know what’ll happen if Angelo finds out. I don’t want him near them, much less their blood on his hands. They’re not worth it. And if Ty finds out? I don’t know if he’ll ever forgive me for not telling him.”
“We were young, Atta. He was younger. You were trying to protect him.”
“I know,” she whispered. “But good brothers will be good brothers. He would have felt daddy would have wanted him toprotect us. And what about your man? It wasn’t just me that night.”
Goosebumps seemed to scatter along my neck, as if a cold wind had been let loose in the cottage, and it was running its marble hand along my skin.
If I’d had an answer to Atta’s last question, I would not have been able to convey it, not when I knew we were no longer alone. The door had not made a noise, nor did their footsteps, but I just instinctively knew.
I turned the conversation in a safe direction.
“More peppers?” I asked.
Atta wiped her eyes on the back of her wrist and shook her head. “I think that’ll be enough. What says you?”
“Enough,” I said as Mariano came into the kitchen holding the thermos of warm tea.
Atta sniffed the air, her face transforming into a mask of nostalgic pleasure for a second. “Sweetgrass.”
Angelo waited at the entrance, eyeing Atta again, as if his thoughts had been on her the entire time, and he had never left her. She turned, taking a deep breath, holding out the tray.
“We’ll put the snacks out,” she said to him.
Angelo took the tray from her, setting his free hand on the nape of her neck, and they headed toward the room with the television.
Mariano stared at me for a moment, then set the thermos on the counter, going for two mugs. He was going to make Atta a glass as well.
“You have this?” I nodded to the glasses.
He gave me a narrow look.
I pointed behind me. “Bathroom break before we start the, ah, movies.”
He watched me leave, and although I was walking at a normal speed, my heart raced, and my feet battled with me to follow at the same pace.
To sprint, before he found something in my eyes I feared he would find.
Chapter 15
Sistine
Age Seventeen
“It’s mybigeighteen, and we’re stuck inside for it.” Atta was lying on her bed, layers of clothes on, even a hat, one leg propped on the other, staring at the ceiling, rocking slowly back and forth on her back.
“We can watch movies, listen to music, eat more cake,” I suggested.
She laughed. “You love to eat.”
I laughed with her. This was true.
“I told him I would meet him. What if he thinks I’m uninterested because Mamma refuses to let me go?” She turned toward me. “In America, eighteen is the legal age, you know. I shouldn’t need permission!”
ZiaBianca had told Atta she was not to meet the guy named Rattler. I had met him once and did not like the way he looked at me. I could tell he was not worth Atta’s time or her heart, even if it was only a crush. I did not like this word that was supposed to represent what was supposed to be sweet. “Crush” implied someone getting hurt. I did not want it to be my cousin. She and her family had been through enough hurt, with her grandfather, father, and uncles all being taken in a car accident not that long ago.
“Perhaps she is just trying to protect you,” I whispered.
