“What am I supposed to do?”
“If you love her, don’t let her go through this alone. You might not be able to fix what happened, but you canshow up. Even if she pushes you away, at least you’ll know you tried.”
I stared out the windshield, watching people walk by but not really seeing them.
“You always wanted to protect people,” she continued. “Sometimes protecting someone doesn’t mean throwing yourself in front of a bullet. Sometimes it means being there when they need a shoulder to cry on.”
I swallowed hard. “Yeah. You’re right.”
“Of course, I am. Mothers always are.”
I chuckled. “Thanks, Ma. I gotta go.”
Forgetting all about the market, I started the car again. My pulse climbed as I shifted into reverse and backed out of the spot. I wasn’t sure what I was going to say when I got there—ifshe even let me in—but I suddenly couldn’t get to Juliette fast enough. I hit the gas as I turned onto the main road, driving way too fast for a civilian. My thoughts were a mess as I merged onto the highway—Juliette in her kitchen, face streaked with tears, her mom crying alone back in New York, the smug look I imagined on the FBI agent’s face as he’d led Vince Ginocassi from his mansion wearing nothing but a bathrobe. He could’ve let the guy throw on a shirt, maybe a jacket, but no—the agent probably enjoyed stripping the dignity from his collar.
When I finally turned onto Juliette’s street, my stomach dropped. Two news vans were parked along the curb, satellite dishes on top.Shit. I hadn’t even thought about that. Of course they’d be here. Now thatJuliette’s identity was public, it made sense they’d want a shot ofthe mob boss’s daughterlooking broken.
I parked a half block away and stepped out, keeping my head down as I walked. Tommy stood at the front door, arms folded across his chest. As I passed the first news van, the passenger door swung open, and a woman jumped out carrying a microphone. “Sir! Are you connected to the Ginocassi family?”
I ignored her and kept moving to the house.
Tommy lifted his chin. “How you doing, Wes?”
“I’ve been better,” I said. “Is she home?”
He nodded once. “She know you’re coming?”
I thought about lying but decided against it. “No. And she might not be happy about it. But I want to be here for her.”
A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I was busy fending off the photographers, and you helped yourself inside the house. That’s the story if she gets pissed.”
“You got it.”
Tommy stepped aside, and I pushed open the door. Inside the house was quiet, with the faint smell of freshly brewed coffee. I found Juliette sitting at the kitchen table, hands cupped around a mug. She looked up, saw me, and her bottom lip began to tremble. I wanted more than anything to wrap her in my arms, but I also didn’t want to get my ass kicked to the curb the second I walked in.
“Hey,” I said softly. “I didn’t want you to be alone right now.”
Her face was blotchy, eyes puffy from crying. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Maybe not,” I said, meeting her gaze. “But I am. I’ll leave whenever you tell me to, but I know there aren’t a lot of people you can confide in.”
She swallowed, and tears welled in her eyes. “I feel so conflicted. If he did what they say he did, he should be in prison forever. But he’s my father, and I don’t want him to spend the rest of his life behind bars.”
“Of course you don’t. There’s no right answer when it comes to family.”
A tear slid down her cheek. “I keep thinking of when I was seven and he coached my soccer team. The regular coach had broken his ankle and had to have surgery, so my dad stepped in and took over the job. He had no idea what he was doing, but he hired the kid down the street who played on his college soccer team to come teach him the rules. He was out in the backyard every night for hours, even after it got dark, trying to learn the sport.” She smiled and wiped her cheek. “We were a terrible team, didn’t win a single game, but he kept trying.”
I smiled and took the seat across from her.
Juliette stared off at nothing. “He had the ice cream man come after each game, and he even gave us all a pep talk, telling us how good we’d played and how we’d almost won.” She shook her head. “I keep asking myself if any of it was real.”
“It was real, Juliette. No matter what else he did, those moments were real. You don’t have to erase the good times just because there were bad ones, too.”
She met my eyes. “But how do I live with a man who can do both?”
“You don’t need to figure that out today,” I said. “One thing at a time.”
She laughed, and it somehow turned into a sob. Before I could second-guess it, I was out of my chair and pulling her into my arms. Juliette collapsed against me, her forehead pressing into my chest as she bawled her eyes out. I held her tight, feeling her whole body shake.
