I exhale. “Go check on Conor,” I tell her. “He didn’t leave that room clean. But you, be strong. Smile. Lie. Play the game they want. I’ll fix this.”
She looks scared, and I get it. I’m sending her back to the people who broke her.
I cup her face, my thumbs brushing her jaw. “Trust me. For now, we pretend. Nothing happened. We’re enemies. Ghosts.” Her breath trembles. “If you jump, I jump,” I say. “You ready to jump with me, little lamb?”
Her voice cracks. “Yes.”
“Then go to Conor. Act normal. Wait for me.”
I kiss her once, soft and brief. “Roof. Tomorrow.”
She nods, and she leans her forehead on mine, and I feel her fingers moving over my broken knuckles.
“I’m sorry,” She whispers.
“For what?” I ask.
“For jumping.” The words barely escape her mouth, but I hear it, and I feel my heart stop beating for a moment.
“I’ve got you little lamb, always got you.” I get up and take her hand and walk to the door. I know she’s scared, but she needs to go to Conor and act normal. She leaves without another word, her shoulders squared, mask already slipping into place. She’s been doing it long enough, so I'm not worried about her not being able to do it.
I turn to my brothers. Rosa stands beside Marco.
“I’m talking to Grandfather this weekend.”
Marco snaps, “You’re fucking serious?”
“I have to.”
Milo rubs the back of his neck. “What will you say?”
“I don’t know. Maybe nothing that keeps me alive, but I can’t let her walk away.”
Marco’s voice drops low. “You’ve lost your mind?”
“What do you want me to do? Keep lying? Pretend I didn’t jump after her? I fucking jumped for her.”
Milo steps forward, arms crossed. “We know. But you’re not only risking yourself, Matteo. You’re risking all of us.”
I pace, dragging a hand through my hair. “I know, but I won’t watch her break again and I won’t let them kill her.”
“Do you love her?” Marco asks.
“Yes,” Rosa says softly before I can answer. She looks down. “Sorry.”
I stop moving around the room as I think about Marco’s question. The question cracks something open inside me. “I don’t know what this is. I just know I can’t breathe when she’s not near. And when she hurts, I feel it like it’s my own. If that’s not love, then tell me what the fuck is.”
Milo blows out a long breath and turns away. Marco rubs the back of his neck, still not looking at me.
“You’re going to bring this to Grandfather, to Dad,” Marco finally says. “You’re going to tell them that the future heir of the Messina family is tangled up with an O’Brien girl?”
“Yes,” I say. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.” Yes, there is a hesitation in my voice, and they hear it too.
Silence stretches between us. Long. Heavy. Then Milo walks over, claps a hand on my shoulder. “Well, shit. If you’re going down, we’re going with you.”
Marco nods, expression still tight. “We always said we’d ride or die together. Just didn’t think it would be for a girl. A fucking Irish girl.”
I laugh, hollow and tired. “Neither did I.”
