Soren rubs my damp shoulder. “No, it’s not,” Soren assures me. “You were just a kid.”
I sniff and try to compose myself. “It’s always someone’s fault, isn’t it? I should’ve been there for my mom. Saved her. Cassian should have?—”
“Saved your father?” Soren asks. “He was a piece of shit, Carmine. I’m sorry, but your life is better off without him. Cassian’s too.”
“You don’t know that,” I huff softly. “Maybe…” I shake my head. Even I can’t think of a good reason for the man to still be alive. “You’re right. I should not want him to be alive, but I do. Some part of me does.”
“I don’t want to kill my fucking uncle…but I might have to,” Soren replies in turn. “So, I get it.”
It’s quiet again, and I take the moment to actually wash up—sans my hair—and then get out of the tub. Soren drains the water and hands me a towel.
“Hey, if what I said—” he starts, but I stop him.
“No. It’s fine. My father was not a good man. Maybe he…hurt more than just me, I don’t know. Cassian is just a kid too. I should not be so hard on either of us.” I sigh and start to dry off, rubbing the towel around myself and all my aches and pains before wrapping it around my hips.
My stomach growls, and I swear Soren’s does at the same time.
“Maybe this place has some food?” he suggests.
I chuckle weakly. “Fat chance, we can check though.”
I lean against the bathroom sink for a moment, not ready to leave the warm, steam-filled bathroom.
“How did your parents die?” I ask him quietly.
Soren licks his lips and folds his arms. “Car bomb.”
I blink. I wasn’t expecting such a simple answer.
“Wow,” I mumble.
“Yeah. They left me and Rose at home ‘cause we were still asleep. They planned on bringing breakfast home, but they never made it past the driveway,” Soren explains. His eyes are dark, but they don’t seem to gloss over like my own. He looks to the side of me, like he’s looking through the wall.
“Who did it?” I ask.
“They think the Massimos, but they never could prove it,” he tells me.
I take a deep breath and step over to him. “That fucking sucks, Ren,” I say and place a hand on his shoulder. “That won’t happen to you. I won’t let it.”
He looks up at me slowly. “We all say that about the people we love, but we don’t really have a choice, right?” His voice is soft.
I shake my head. “Wrong. Anyone who wants to fuck with you will have to go through me. I don’t care what I have to do.” My fingers dig into his shirt at his shoulder.
“Same for you,” Soren tells me. The color of his eyes gets even darker and his gaze pours into mine.
I step closer to him while placing my hands on his chest. The shirt he’s wearing is familiar to me—it’s my fathers. Both of us are wearing a mismatch of clothing that was left at the villa.
“You’re wearing my father’s shirt, you know,” I tell him slowly. I brush my fingers along the neckline of the polo shirt that is undoubtedly from the 90’s. It reminds me of him.
The smell of his cologne. Alcohol. Peppermint. Even though it doesn’t actually smell like either of those things.
Soren looks down. “Ah. I’m sorry, I can—” he starts, but I lean up and I kiss him.
I’m not sure why. Something in my brain just snaps and I want to crush my mouth against his as hard as I possibly can.
He kisses me back for just a second, seeming taken aback, before he pulls back and looks at me with a furrowed brow.
“Carmine,” he says slowly. “Are you alright?”
