“I’m not keeping anything from you,” he spits out. “Unlike you, who has lied to me this entire fucking time, Soren. Don’t make this about me.”
“I have to!” I wave an arm. “You’re part of this, Carmine. Whether you like it or not, you’re part of this now. Eivor has his eyes and his guns locked and loaded on you and I’m supposed to pull the trigger but I can’t. I just can’t.”
I see the pain in Carmine’s eyes, and something else. Fear.
“I can’t figure this out with you if you’re going to act like your father was completely innocent. Like he never did anything wrong in this entire situation while he was alive,” I insist. “He offered a deal to Eivor, and when Eivor went off and declined, he was sure quick to leave and not even fight to combine our families. Not even a little bit. Did he even really want to?”
Carmine’s breath gets heavier. “I don’t want to talk about him.”
I eye him. “Your father? Why? What is so special about your father that you can’t even talk about him?”
Carmine walks across the room to the mini bar and yanks the door open. I don’t realize what’s happening until the last second. I watch as he grabs a small bottle of vodka and starts to open it.
“Hey, no!” I rush over to him and try to grab the bottle, but he’s holding it in a death grip.
“Leave me alone,” he growls.
I grab onto his wrist so he can’t bring the bottle to his face.
“I know his death hit you hard, but you can’t do this. You’ve done so good the last week, Carm,” I tell him. My voice lowers to a whisper just for him.
He shakes his head. “I can’t. I can’t think about him. I can’t.”
“Just put the bottle down. Whatever he did, it’s over. He’s gone. You’re in charge now,” I remind him.
He swallows thickly, and his eyes shift from the bottle to me. “I can’t. I need it. I need to forget.”
My brows furrow. “Carmine. What’s going on? What did he do that’s so bad you need to drink at eleven in the morning just to talk about him?”
“No,” he shakes his head. “I can’t.”
I rip the bottle from his hand and he groans and puts his hands on his head.
“Tell me,” I demand. “I need to know what’s going on.”
His eyes glitter with tears that make my stomach ache. I know what I need to say, a way to manipulate him. It comes out of me before I can even stop it.
“It must not’ve been that bad then,” I snap.
He glares at me. “Fine!” He stomps over to me and his breath hitches in his throat. “You really wanna know? Herapedme, Soren.”
Everything around me stops. The rain. Gravity. My own heart and breath. I’m just looking at Carmine as he huffs at me red-faced and teary eyed.
“What?” I ask, not even recognizing my own voice.
“He raped me. Okay? Are you happy now?” Carmine’s voice cracks.
The next thing I know, Carmine storms out of the hotel room, and I’m left standing here unable to move.
15
Carmine
Ican’t breathe. I need to get somewhere I can breathe. Every single part of me is tense and hot. My skin feels like it’s too tight for my body and I want to climb out of myself and go somewhere else. Be someone else. I hate it here. In this place I’m in mentally. I’m suddenly so incredibly small as I rush down the hallway and try to find a door. A door to the stairs. Not the elevator, no, that can’t take me where I want to go.
I need some air. I need all of the air. My lungs feel like they’re burning as I rush up the stairs to the fourth floor and then even further. Going beyond where guests at the hotel are supposed to go.
Everything is too small. Too much. I can feel hands all around me, moving in closer to me. His hands. The hands of my father. Except they’re younger than they were when he died, and I’m younger too. Much younger, much smaller, and far weaker.
