Riccardo scowls at me, and I know I’m treading in dangerous waters here. He’s not the kind of man who likes a woman using her voice, and usually, I’m the last person to make waves. But there’s something about him making a joke out of the worst thing that’s ever happened to Romeo that lights a fire of anger in me, and I can’t just let it go.
“Thanks for keeping my girl occupied,” Riccardo grits out, completely ignoring what I said. “But I’ll take it from here.”
Romeo’s grip on me tightens even more, and I can see the tendons in his neck straining as his breath roughens. His pupils dilate, eyes shifting like a predator in the wild. I can feel the tension weaving through every muscle in his body as he looks like he’s stepping into another version of himself. A deeper, darker, more terrifying version.
I’m not the only one who senses it. That charge hums through the air before Angelo’s voice echoes off the walls, clipped and final.
“It’s time for dinner. Everybody out.”
Riccardo doesn’t look at all pleased with the command, but he doesn’t dare voice his opinion to the don. Nobody does. One by one, they filter out of the room, until it’s just four of us. Me, Romeo, Angelo, and Riccardo.
“Go get yourself a drink, Riccardo,” Angelo orders. “I need a quick word with Gabi.”
Riccardo glances between the three of us, clearly annoyed, but eventually, he does as Angelo bids and leaves the room. Angelo shuts the doors behind him, sealing us inside, and then he returns to us.
I’m still locked in Romeo’s grip, unable to move, when Angelo looks directly at me, speaking quietly.
“Stay calm, Gabi.”
I blink at him in confusion. “I am calm.”
“No sudden movements,” he says.
I follow his gaze to Romeo, and that’s when it clicks into place.
“He won’t hurt me.”
When I glance up at Angelo, I can see that he isn’t as certain, and something about that breaks my heart. The Vitales shielded me from a lot during those years Romeo was gone. Everyonewould give me vague updates, leaving out the darkest details. But I heard bits and pieces of them over that time period. The discussions about his inability to regulate his emotions. The hushed whispers about his suicide attempts.
I remember feeling like someone had ripped my still-beating heart from my chest when I heard that he’d hurt himself. And I know what it did to his parents. I saw the light leave his mother’s eyes, and I’ll never forget her gut-wrenching sobs. They were the external manifestation of how I felt inside.
The entire family was grieving something none of us could really understand, and when he returned, they walked around like they were waiting for him to detonate at any moment. There was no guidebook for what happened to Romeo. None of us knew how to help, and it was an awful feeling.
I knew he’d had explosive outbursts. I’d heard about the times it took all of his brothers to hold him down. But not once, in the entire time I’ve known him, have I ever questioned if he was capable of physically hurting me.
“Romeo.” Angelo reaches out slowly, trying to separate us like he’s approaching a wounded animal.
Romeo’s gaze blackens as it drifts to his brother’s encroaching hand, and I can see this careening out of control.
“Don’t!” I tell him. “Just wait a minute.”
To my surprise, Angelo actually listens to me. But when I reach up to touch Romeo’s face, he takes a step closer.
Ignoring him, I press my fingers to Romeo’s jaw.
“Gabi—” Angelo warns me.
A quiet sound vibrates in my throat, barely audible at first, the ghost of a memory that pulls me back to another time and place. As the melody fills the space between us, I know I’m no longer there alone. Romeo turns his head slowly, his eyes settling on mine as a rough exhalation shudders from his chest. Ihum the tune to "I Miss You" by Blink182, the same way he used to do for me.
When the world gets to be too much, Gabi, press your fingers to the back of my hand. I’ll be your anchor.
It wasn’t a platitude. He was there through every overwhelm and every storm for the most formative years of my life. He’d find a way to bring me back when the world got to be too much. Whether it was drawing something for me to focus on, pressing my fingers to his heartbeat, or humming this tune until I fell into rhythm right beside him.
He was my shelter.
And right now, by some small miracle, I’ve become his.
He closes his eyes and starts to hum along until we’re in harmony, and every second that passes slows his breathing and calms his racing heart.
