I slow again, not stopping this time. “You deserve it. You deserve peace in your life.”
She looks up at me, searching. “Do you believe that about yourself?”
I do. That’s the terrifying part. It’s something I don’t deserve. Yet, that has always been my goal deep down, whether I admitted it to myself or not. A way out to a peaceful life.
Put me here, pulling strings for money laundering in my home office, by the sea, with a wife and kids. Maybe start up a chain of gyms for self-defense classes.
“Yes,” I say without hesitation.
She exhales like she’s been holding that question in for a long time. We reach a low stone wall overlooking the water, and she hops up onto it, swinging her legs. I stand between her knees without thinking, my body drawn there like it knows exactly where it belongs.
She holds out the cone with the last of her ice cream. And I eat it, slowly. Not breaking eye contact. It’s sweet, just like her. A creamy strawberry flavor that melts on my tongue. And now, the only kind of ice cream I’ll ever want to eat again.
She reaches out and wipes a smear from the corner of my mouth with her thumb. The touch is brief, yet sets me on fire.
“You’re terrible at this,” she says lightly.
“At ice cream?” I ask.
“At pretending you don’t feel things.”
My throat tightens. I don’t move her hand away. I don’t lean into it either. The restraint burns. “I feel plenty,” I say. “I just choose carefully what I do about it.”
How would I tell her that right now, I’m picturing us living here? That this is our future, eating ice cream as we walk along the beach. That I just want her hand in mine. No stress. No obligations. Only to her.
Her fingers curl into my shirt. Not pulling. Not pushing. Just holding on.
“Good,” she murmurs. “Because I want this to mean something.”
So do I.
“What do you see in your future, Drago? Still the mafia life? Like my dad?” she asks.
Her question hits home as I was just thinking about my future and what I want. But what am I allowed to actually have?
I chew on the inside of my mouth. As much as I love Lev, do I see myself being like him when I’m in my sixties? Alone? Running from place to place, hunting down the people that haunt this world?
No. I never asked for this life. I was saved, and my path was carved out for me. I’m grateful. But I’m also close to being done.
“No,” I tell her honestly.
“Once I have finished the job I’ve started, I’ll find my way out.”
Her mouth pops open. “Y-you can just leave?”
She doesn’t hide the sadness in her voice. I’m assuming, wondering why her father never left the life for her.
I lace my fingers through hers. “I’ve never aligned fully with any family. I’ve worked with many and made enemies in a lot of places. With the Quinns, I owe them for saving my life. After that debt is paid, I answer to your father only.”
She swallows, the weight of my confession most likely weighs heavy.
“And then what?”
I open my mouth and snap it shut. I’m not sure if after one real date, she’s ready for my answer. “I-I don’t know. I guess I’ll have to wait and see what the next chapter of my life brings.”
I step back before I forget myself completely and help her off the wall. I’m trying to prove to her that I deserve her time. But it takes all the restraint I have not to give in and show her what it would be like to be mine completely.
We walk again, hand in hand this time. And now, I feel like I’m walking beside a future I might actually fight to keep.
