Mom tapped Reggie’s arm in a scolding manner. “Regina, language.” Then, she turned to me and asked, “You mean to tell us that her boyfriends were roughing up her son, and thatstupidbitch did nothing?”
Roxy started pacing around the living room. “If I see that whore walking around town, I’m going to bust her fucking face in like that bastard did to Asher’s.”
“Do you know the guy’s name?” my dad asked as he cracked his knuckles. “The one who touched Asher?”
Jesus Christ, my whole family was ready for those two fuckers to sleep with the fishes.
“Guys, I’m pissed too, but Asher is waiting in the car and he’s in bad shape. We need to be normal around him. He’s already been through enough.”
My mom leapt to her feet. “Jesus! He’s still outside. What was I thinking? Let’s go get him; he must be starving.”
I wasn’t sure if food was really what Asher needed at that moment, but it was my mom’s go-to when it came to comfort.Are you feeling down, sweetie? How ‘bout a massive bowl of pasta to make your cares go away?
Mom ran into the kitchen, pots and pans clanging against one another as she started cooking.
“Should I come out too?” Dad asked.
While my dad was big and scary as fuck when he needed to be, he was usually the calm one in the house. It wasn’t a bad idea to bring him along as a soothing presence.
“We’ll wait here,” Reggie said.
“Yeah, he doesn’t need the entire Moretti clan descending upon him before he even gets out of the car,” Roxy added.
“Girls! Get your asses in here and help me!”
Reggie rolled her eyes and screamed, “Mom! It’s one o’clock in the morning. Just because he’s upset doesn’t mean he wants three pounds of pasta shoved into his mouth.”
With Mom and the girls distracted, Dad and I went to the car. Asher was still sitting in the front passenger’s seat, but he got out when he saw us approaching.
Dad closed the distance between them and, before Asher could even finish saying hello, my dad wrapped him in his arms and held him. He kept Asher there for what felt like a while before he released him and said, “Let’s get you inside. Maria’s making food.”
Chapter 13
Asher
Mrs. Moretti lugged the pot of pasta from the stove to the kitchen table and asked, “How about another plate, honey?”
She’d practically spoonfed me herself while holding an ice pack to my busted nose. If I had another bite, I’d explode. My stomach was already in knots, and the pasta was just kind of sinking to the pit of my gut and making me uncomfortable. “I’m okay, but I really appreciate it.”
The whole Moretti family sat around the table, and I felt so awkward. They all knew what had happened, and each one had a sympathetic smile. It was so sweet, but it made my skin tingle with embarrassment. I felt so exposed. The juxtaposition between this wonderful family, in their Tuscan-style kitchen surrounded by warm, earthy tones, sitting across from my broke ass, fresh from a beating delivered by my mom’s alcoholic boyfriend, made me feel like pure trash. It was the middle of the night, and everyone was on tenterhooks because of me. It felt wrong. They should have been having a good night’s sleep, not huddled around a table in the middle of the night, worrying about my bullshit.
Mr. Moretti leaned in and spoke with a low and soothing tone. It was like he knew exactly what I needed to calm down. His voice felt like warm honey. “Well, you’re staying here. You are not going back there. You’re Theo’s best friend, and our house is your house.”
The twins hummed in agreement, then Roxy asked, “Do you wanna call the cops? You should press charges. That douchebag deserves to go to jail.”
I couldn’t imagine anything worse than that. It was bad enough that my friend had to beat down the door and save my ass. The last thing I wanted was to drag him into some messy court case. “I don’t want to do that,” I said. “I don’t wanna drag Theo into something that involves the cops. It’ll be a nightmare.”
Theo rubbed my back. “I’d do whatever you wanted me to do. If you needed me to testify, I’d be happy to.”
Theo’s touch released a warm, soothing balm that enveloped my entire being. I was on the verge of curling up into his lap like a cat and nuzzling into his big chest. I shook my head and said, “I really don’t want that. But, thank you.”
It wasn’t just Theo that I was worried about. I was worried about myself, too. My emotions weren’t in a place where I could go through some sort of court procedure. Would I have to testify? Talk about the years of torment in front of a jury?
No. I just can’t.
Mrs. Moretti left the stove to sit in a chair next to her husband. “You can sleep in Theo’s room, and he’ll sleep on the sofa.”
Ugh! No, I couldn’t let that happen. “No,” I protested. “I can’t do that. I’d feel awful. I’m happy to sleep on the sofa.”
