Angelos lets out a choked laugh.
I laugh along with him. “Probably breaks down once a month, costs a fortune to fix, and still thinks it’s God’s gift.”
Angelos shakes his head, a genuine smile pulling at his mouth. “Uncle Elio’s all right. He has a Ferrari too, you know?”
“That doesn’t surprise me.” I turn onto the main road. “My Audi’s better, though, right?”
Angelos furrows his brow. “Bruh, there’s no comparison.”
I can’t help the grin tugging at my mouth. “Bruh,” I echo, shooting him a look.
The tension’s still thick, but it’s cracked now. Just enough for me to slide a few words through it.
“You okay?”
He shrugs, staring out the window. “Nonna said my grandfather wasn’t a nice man.”
My arms tense, straightening out in front of me as I clutch the steering wheel.
“Is that why you killed him?” He doesn’t look at me, just stares out the window at the bustling city streets as I pull up to a red light.
“He hurt your mother.” I swallow the thick air, knowing that was the final nail in her old man’s coffin. I often wonder, if he’d been a loving father to Rose, would I have aborted the mission?
“Is that why you wanted to kill Da—I mean, Magnus?”
“Yes, son. You know I loved your mum more than anything. That was until I found out about you a few weeks ago. Now you’re both my number one priority.” I press my foot gently on the accelerator as the light changes to green.
Angelos doesn’t look at me, but his knee bounces.
“I may not have been around, but I’m not going anywhere now. I promise you that.”
The Maserati glides along the road, the hum of the engine filling the silence between us. Angelos fiddles with the hem ofhis sleeve, staring out the window like the city might offer him an escape.
A few beats of silence pass before he mutters, so low I almost miss it, “It’s all my fault.”
My grip tightens on the wheel. “What is?”
He swallows, voice thick. “Mum… getting shot. I screwed up…” His voice cracks, and he shakes his head, jaw clenching. “I should have aimed the gun at him.”
“Hey.” I reach over, squeezing his shoulder, firm but careful. “None of this is on you, Angelos. You hear me? Not one fucking bit.”
He doesn’t answer, but his shoulders shake once, a quick, fierce tremor, like he’s holding back everything inside him.
I keep my hand there a second longer before pulling back.
“I don’t want you carrying this guilt or this hate around with you. I’m your dad. It’s my job to take care of you now. You and your mum and I’ll take care of that evil bastard too, don’t you worry.”
Angelos nods and wipes at his face with the sleeve of his hoodie, pretending like he’s just itchy.
“She’ll be all right, won’t she, Da—Dan?”
My heart stutters, the steering wheel twitching in my hand as I thought he was about to call me dad. I let out a sigh. Baby steps. We’re making progress every day.
“Your mother’s a warrior, son. She’ll pull through.”
We don’t say anything else the rest of the ride.
We don’t need to.
