Sempre

NOVELLAS

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright Ó 2014 by Jessica Mae Darhower

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. Except as permitted under the US Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

Friends.

"Yo, DeMarco, get up."

Carmine grunted, his eyes slowly peeking open as something struck his leg, sending a sharp pain through his calf. "What the fuck?"

The cluttered room was dark, clouds of hazy smoke hovering in the warm air, muddying the view of the boy standing in front of him. Carmine blinked a few times, each second like slow motion as blackness obscured his vision before the unfocused scene once more came into view.

Inhaling deeply, the smoky air infiltrated Carmine's lungs, the woodsy aroma of marijuana washing over his body. His eyes drifted closed again as he teetered on the edge of unconsciousness.

"Get up!" the person said again, raising their bare foot and kicking Carmine in the knee. "Lazy bastard."

Carmine sat up and rubbed his blurry eyes, trying to shake off the exhaustion that weighed him down. Glancing across the room, he watched as his half-assed aggressor strolled to the only window and shoved the makeshift curtain out of the way—a thick blanket, tacked there to keep the sunlight from streaming in.

Grimacing, Carmine raised his hand to block the blinding glare. "What the fuck?"

Laughter rang through the room—familiar laughter—as the form approached him again. Carmine stared at him, taking in the sight of the worn cargo shorts and dingy white undershirt, the blue ball cap pulled down low on the boy's eyes.

Nicholas Barlow.

He was in Nicholas's bedroom in the house out on Aurora Lake… that much Carmine knew… but how the hell he got there, or when for that matter, was beyond him. The last thing he remembered was… was… fuck, he couldn't even remember. "What the fuck?"

Nicholas laughed again as he paused right in front of him. "Is that all you know how to say?"

"No," he scoffed, running his hands through his chaotic hair. "Christ, what did we do tonight?"

"Last night," Nicholas corrected him, motioning toward the window. "It's daylight."

Carmine glared at the sunlight for a moment. "Well, I don't remember shit from last night."

"Not surprised," Nicholas muttered. "You were fucked up."

"I'm still fucked up," he grumbled, climbing to his feet and swaying a bit. "How am I still high from last night?"

"This morning," Nicholas corrected him again, laughing some more. "You don't remember getting up an hour ago and smoking?"

"No," he said. "Must've been some good shit."

"It was."

"Got any more?"

"Not presently."

Carmine frowned, looking around as he tried to clear his head and gather his wits. The room was a disaster—clothes strewn everywhere, trash spilling over the can, empty bottles cluttering the desk and every inch of shelf space. Certainly wasn't anything out of the usual in Nicholas's room… it reminded Carmine of his own.

Probably why it was the only other place in the world where he felt at home.

"Come on," Nicholas said, slapping him on the arm. "It's already after four o'clock. The weekend awaits."

"Saturday?"

"Friday," Nicholas said.

"Shit," Carmine muttered. "Guess I missed school."

"You and me both."

It was fall, memory of summer long gone, but the weather showed little sign of changing seasons. A perk of living in the middle of No-Fucking-Where Carolina: already late October and it was still sweltering during the day. Carmine had a hard time getting back into the routine of normality, with school and homework and all the other shit society expected from kids his age.

He would rather just sleep and fuck his life away.

Carmine stumbled out of the room, wearing yesterday's jeans and gray V-neck shirt, the sleeves shoved up to his shoulders, his Nike's untied and flopping on his feet as he shuffled through the house behind his friend. He plopped down at the kitchen table, the wooden chair legs scratching the linoleum floor, as Nicholas got them both bowls and slid them on the table with an open box of Lucky Charms. Carmine unceremoniously poured some into his bowl, still trying to blink away the haze, as Nicholas plopped down in the chair across from him with a carton of milk.

Nicholas poured himself a bowl of cereal and started eating as Carmine reached for the milk. He picked up the carton and shook it. Empty.

Carmine looked at Nicholas's bowl, nearly filled to the brim with milk, some sloshing out onto the table whenever he dug his spoon in. "You used all the milk."

"You snooze, you lose."

Carmine couldn't even be mad. Hell, he would've done the same had he been coherent enough to beat his friend to it. Shrugging it off, he plucked handfuls of cereal out of his bowl and tossed them in his mouth. Fuck it—he'd eat it dry.

Wasn't the first time, wouldn't be the last…

"God, you boys are pathetic."

Carmine's focus turned from his evening breakfast to Amy Barlow as she strode in, wearing a hot pink two-piece bikini, the top untied and barely concealing her breasts, the bottoms covered by a pair of tiny unbuttoned jean shorts. Her tanned skin shined, a combination of baby oil and sweat from lying out in the sun. She was eighteen and gorgeous… or about as gorgeous as a girl related to Nicholas could possibly get.

Which, Carmine had to admit, was pretty fucking banging.

Nicholas's older sister—his only sister. A senior. Carmine had had a hard-on for her since the first time he laid eyes on the girl, but she was off-limits. The only girl he figured was off the menu for him, in fact. He was only sixteen, but he'd already had his fair share of girls over the years. If he set his mind to it, if he tried hard enough, he got it, but her? Amy?

You don't fuck with your best friend's sister.

It was an unspoken rule.

"Look who's talking," Nicholas grumbled, mouth full of cereal. "Don't you own any damn clothes? Walking around here half-naked. I don't wanna see that shit, Ames."

I do, Carmine thought, smirking. Instead of saying it, though, he stuffed a handful of cereal into his mouth. Safer that way.

"At least I don't stink," Amy countered, opening the fridge to pull out a bottle of water. She unscrewed the top and took a drink as she leaned back against the counter to glare at them. "Seriously, do you smell that? What reeks?"

"That's DeMarco," Nicholas said nonchalantly. "I showered already."

Glaring at his friend, Carmine raised his arm, instantly getting a whiff of his armpit. He involuntarily grimaced. Christ, he did stink. Smelled like stale bread and burnt fucking rubber. What the hell did I do last night?

He shrugged it off, though, going right back to munching on his Lucky Charms. He was too damn hungry to give a shit about hygiene.

"By the way, Dr. DeMarco called a few minutes ago," Amy said, her attention focusing right on him, a small smile tugging the corner of her lips that Carmine could tell she was fighting to restrain. Smug bitch. "Said something about Carmine not showing up for school today. He asked if you boys were around."

"Did you tell him we were sleeping?" Nicholas asked.

"No," she said. "I told him I hadn't seen Carmine."

Nicholas groaned. "Jesus, Amy, why?"

"Because it's true," she replied, shrugging. "I was at school all day… unlike you two. And I'm not lying for you so you can sneak around, doing God knows what, God knows where, with God knows who."

"It doesn't matter," Carmine chimed in before they could start arguing. "Not like he's got the time to come look for me. I'm surprised he even took a minute to try to call."

It was only because the school had called him, Carmine figured. Had Principal Jack-Ass Rutledge not ratted him out, his father would have never known. Carmine's appetite was suddenly gone, dissolving at the thought of his father. He shoved his bowl away from him as he stood up, stretching his arms and grimacing once again at the odor that clung to him. "I'm going to shower."

"Please do," Amy said. "I can't take much more of that stench."

He flashed her his middle finger as he strode from the room, kicking his shoes off as he walked, leaving them lying on the floor.

He passed Nicholas's father in the hallway—a middle-aged man named Joshua, prematurely gray from stress he openly blamed on Nicholas for even existing. Joshua cast Carmine a disapproving look as he strode by, but the man said nothing.

He was about as fatherly as Dr. DeMarco.

It only took Carmine about ten minutes to shower, the perpetual cold spray in the old ass house with the prehistoric plumbing enough to jolt him wide-awake. He put on fresh clothes afterward—he had about as much of his shit here as he did at home—and made his way back toward the kitchen, slipping his shoes back on as he went, his shirt clutched in his hand. He could hear fighting off in the other side of the house, Nicholas arguing with his father about something-or-nother. Probably school. Or me. Who knows? Carmine didn't bother to investigate, knowing his friend preferred it that way. They had an understanding. They fought their own battles, no matter how ugly. It was just the way it was.

Instead of seeking out his friend, Carmine plopped back down in the chair at the table and eyed Amy as she washed out their bowls from breakfast. As long as he had known her, she had been more of a parental figure to Nicholas than anything. When their mother died, she had stepped up and taken on the role of woman of the house, taking care of her brother and her father. Carmine sympathized with her… he knew what it was like to practically raise yourself.

"Don't you have a house?" Amy asked, shutting off the water to turn around and look at him. "Don't you have your own family?"

Carmine stared at her for a moment, expression blank. "Why do you care?"

"I get a little tired of looking at you every day."

"Then don't look at me."

"You're here."

"So?"

"So?" She threw up her arms in annoyance. "The least you can do is put on a damn shirt."

Raising his eyebrows, Carmine glanced down at himself and rubbed his bare chest. He had gotten soft over the summer and was just now back into shape thanks to Junior Varsity football.

Football. That struck a chord with him, hazy memories resurfacing. They'd had a football game last night… hell, no wonder he stunk. He figured they'd won, since he'd partied so hard in celebration. Or else he was drinking to forget the loss.

Either way, it worked. He barely remembered any of it.

"You're not wearing a shirt, either, you know," he pointed out.

"Yeah, well…" She stepped closer, pressing her palms flat against the surface of the table as she leaned across it to look him in the eyes. "Unlike you, I'm grown. I can do what I want, little boy."

Carmine narrowed his eyes at her, purposely avoiding glancing down at her breasts as she practically thrust them toward his face. Such a fucking tease.

Amy stood up and walked away as a door slammed down the hall and Nicholas stormed in, ignoring his father's yelling behind him. Blah blah blah… stay out of trouble… yadda yadda yadda… mind your fucking manners… whatever whatever... I'm not running a fucking boarding house for your delinquent friends...

Nicholas immediately searched through the cabinets before groaning and instead opening the fridge. He pulled out two cans of beer—the American flag colored cheap shit that tasted like piss—but Carmine didn't complain when his friend tossed him one. He popped the top and took a sip. Best cure for a hangover was just to start drinking again.

And in the Barlow house? There was always an abundance of alcohol to be found.

"So what are we doing today?" Carmine asked.

"Same thing we did yesterday."

"And what's that?"

Nicholas raised his beer. "Getting fucked up."

Carmine chuckled. Sounded about right to him.

* * *

They were drunk again before nightfall, roughhousing along the sandy beach and commandeering a neighbor's jet skis, having no regard for anyone or anything. Fuck safety. They raced around the lake, shouting and dodging obstructions, before playing a game of chicken. The jet skis sped along the water straight at each other, neither one making any move to divert from the path.

Carmine gripped tightly to the handles, determined, as he raced straight at Nicholas. He wouldn't balk. Nope. Nicholas would have to.

Mere feet separated them, the distance closing rapidly, when Nicholas finally swung away, barely missing a head-on collision. The front of Nicholas's jet ski skimmed Carmine's, jolting him roughly forward and over the front of it as it skidded to an abrupt stop. His head slammed against the Jet Ski as he hit the water, pain tearing through his skull.

He treaded water, floating, ignoring the pain as he watched his friend crash straight into the dock, leaping off at the last second and flailing before he hit the water. Laughing, Carmine swam toward the shore as Nicholas did the same.

Nicholas grimaced as climbed out of the water, hobbling as he tried to put pressure on his right foot. "Fuck, I think I broke my ankle."

Carmine glanced down toward his friend's feet. "Looks fine to me."

Nicholas shot him a foul look, his expression contorting nearly instantly from annoyance to amusement. "Ha! You're bleeding, douchebag."

Carmine reached toward the throbbing along his brow, wincing when he felt the gash. "Hurts like a son of a bitch."

"Looks fine to me."

Carmine rolled his eyes, shoving his friend so hard he stumbled and fell onto the sand. Nicholas grimaced, all humor gone from his expression. "Seriously, DeMarco? Ankle? Remember?"

Reaching down, Carmine grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet. "Whatever, pussy. Let's go get it checked out."

"Your dad working?"

Carmine shrugged. "Is he ever not working?"

They drove Nicholas's Chevy pickup truck to the hospital, mainly because Carmine said he wasn't letting Nicholas's wet ass soil the seats in his brand new Mazda RX-8. A gift for his sixteenth birthday just a few months earlier that felt a lot like a guilt-assuaging bribe from a failure of a father. Regardless, Carmine cherished the car. Nicholas, too, seemed to have an unhealthy attachment to his vehicle, but he didn't put up an argument when Carmine grabbed the keys and climbed behind the wheel of the truck.

They strolled—or limped—past the waiting crowd in the ER in Durante, straight to the lady working the check-in desk. She cast them a look but said nothing, motioning for the two of them to follow her straight back to an exam room.

"Ankle," Carmine told the woman, motioning toward Nicholas's foot, before pointing at his own forehead.

"Eyebrow, got it," the woman said, shaking her head. "I'll let Dr. DeMarco know."

Nicholas climbed up on one of the white hospital beds as Carmine strolled around the room, nosily looking in drawers and searching through cabinets. He found a container of lollipops on the counter and snatched a handful, shoving a few in his pockets before tossing a green one toward Nicholas.

Carmine tore the wrapper off an orange one and stuck it in his mouth, sucking on it as he continued to explore. In a drawer along the side, he found a pile of rubber bands. Plucking two out, he pulled one back and shot it toward his friend. Nicholas ducked, the rubber band flying right by him just as the door opened.

Shit.

Vincent DeMarco stepped inside, words on the tip of his tongue, when the rubber band struck him straight in the chest. Vincent's brow furrowed as he halted mid-sentence, glancing down at the rubber band when it hit the floor before his eyes darted toward his son. "Sit down, Carmine."

Carmine mock saluted his father, cringing when he struck his wound. Damn, it hurt. He hopped up on the second hospital bed in the exam room when his father approached, grasping his chin to survey his face. "This is bleeding a lot, son."

"Head wounds bleed a lot." Man, how many times had Carmine heard those words spoken to him before right in this fucking hospital? Too many times to count.

"Yes, but this is more than normal," Vincent said, pulling out his small flashlight and shining it straight in Carmine's eyes as he nonchalantly toyed with the second rubber band.

Before Carmine could respond, Nicholas chimed in. "I'm sorry, Doc, but nothing about your kid is really normal."

Vincent turned to Nicholas, eyeing him peculiarly before shining the flashlight in his eyes, too. He said nothing, glancing between the two of them suspiciously.

Alcohol thins the blood. Carmine knew it. Hell, every one of them in the exam room knew it. There was certainly a reason his head wound was bleeding a lot.

"So, uh, you gonna fix us up?" Nicholas asked finally. "Or are you gonna, well… you know… just look at us?"

Vincent continued to just look at them for a moment before letting out an exasperated sigh. "I don't know what I'm gonna do about you boys."

"Fix us up," Nicholas said again, laughing. "I think I broke my ankle and Carmine, well… he looks like he stuck his head in a blender, but that's nothing new. He's always been an ugly bastard."

"Fuck you," Carmine said, shooting the other rubber band at Nicholas, this time hitting him straight in the face.

"All right, enough," Vincent said, shaking his head as he set down the charts he had been carrying. He pulled up a stool and checked Nicholas's ankle. "Just a mild sprain, I'd say. Stay off of it and you should be fine."

"Thanks, Doc."

Vincent stood back up, nodding in acknowledgement, and turned back to his son. "You, on the other hand, are going to need stitches. Right on the eyebrow, too. That's going to leave an ugly scar."

"Nice."

Vincent said nothing else as he walked out. It was only a minute later when he returned, a nurse in tow. Vincent went to work stitching up Carmine's eyebrow while the nurse wrapped Nicholas's ankle. Carmine watched her as she worked, purposely avoiding his father's intense glare.

Jenn was her name. Carmine knew her well, considering his father was screwing around with her.

It was ridiculous, Carmine knew, but he couldn't help the bitterness he felt at that fact, the sense of betrayal that stirred up inside of him at the thought of his father being intimate with anyone. It wasn't right. All these years later and he still felt like his father even looking at another woman was a disloyalty to his mother, like he was cheating on her, shamefully pissing on her memory.

And for a girl like Jenn? A girl who spread her legs for half the town?

Yeah, Carmine was bitter.

Jenn left a moment later and Vincent stepped back, surveying his handiwork, before snatching discharge papers from the charts. Carmine hopped down off the bed, side-stepping his father, but Vincent caught his arm before he could leave. "Which one of you is driving?"

Carmine yanked his arm away. "Me."

"How much have you had to drink?"

Carmine rolled his eyes, handing his discharge paper to Nicholas before dramatically, theatrically, extending his arms straight out and tipping his head back. Without any hesitation, he swiftly touched his nose with his fingertips.

"You don't have to be a smart ass, son. It's just a question... a valid one, at that."

Carmine threw his lollipop away. "I'm not drunk."

Vincent didn't appear convinced, but he didn't stop them from walking out. The two strolled back through the ER, past the crowd still waiting to be seen. Jenn stood at the check-in desk, chatting with another nurse, and waved at them as they passed.

"She's kinda hot, huh?" Nicholas said, eyeing her. "Doc could do worse."

Carmine shuddered. "That's my father you're talking about."

"So? Come on, DeMarco. You can't really blame the man. You can't tell me you wouldn't hit that if you could."

"I could hit it," Carmine said, "but I wouldn't."

"Yeah, right."

"I'm serious. You think you could do it? Then do it. Fuck, I dare you to do it."

Nicholas's expression turned serious. He didn't balk at a challenge. "You're on."

* * *

"Going into halftime, the score is tied, fourteen to fourteen."

"You think we're gonna win?" Nicholas asked, slouching back and propping himself up on his elbows on the massive oversize stadium bleachers.

"Doubtful," Carmine muttered, taking a sip from his shiny metal flask. He grimaced, the warm liquor burning his throat. The trip to the hospital had sobered him up real quick. "Varsity team fucking sucks this year. They'd have better luck letting us play tonight."

"Next year," Nicholas said. "We'll show them how it's done."

"Goddamn right."

The crowd shifted all around them, people filtering out for concessions while others made their way to huddle in the bleachers for halftime. Homecoming. The one game of the year it seemed nobody in Durante missed. Glancing around, Carmine saw everybody who was everybody.

Everybody, of course, except his father, but that was no surprise to anybody. Vincent never even made it to Carmine's football games. Why would he come to these?

A group of their friends climbed the steps, led by Carmine's brother, Dominic. Dom greeted them warmly, bumping fists with Nicholas before plopping down beside Carmine. The rest filled the empty spaces around them, mostly girls, some Carmine knew intimately, others he had plans to get to know that way before it was all said and done. Tess Harper weaseled her way through the group, forcing herself down in a spot right in front of Dom.

"Boys," she said coldly, casting the two of them—Carmine and Nicholas—looks of wariness.

"Girl," Nicholas said sarcastically, the same time Carmine tipped his flask and muttered, "Bitch."

Tess rolled her eyes, turning to Dom. "Dominic."

Dom nudged her chin playfully, greeting her warmer than the others. "Hey, Tess."

"Your sister not come?" Carmine asked, drawing Tess's attention back to him and away from his brother. Those two freaked him out sometimes with the way they looked at each other. He didn't get it, and hoped like hell they'd get over their flirtationship. It made things awkward whenever they all hung out together.

"Of course not," Tess said. "Dia doesn't do football games."

"She came last night," Nicholas said. "You know, to the JV game."

Huh. Had she? Carmine still couldn't remember. He made a mental note to thank her later.

"Aw, good for you," Tess said dismissively. "You boys actually had someone there to watch for once."

Nicholas flipped her off, but Tess didn't notice, her attention going right back to Dom. Rolling his eyes, Carmine took another drink from his flask. Okay, he'd been wrong earlier. Amy Barlow wasn't the only girl off limits to him. The Harper twins needed added to that list of his could-never-have. Because Dia was the sister-he-never-had, while Tess was frankly the sister-he-never-wanted. He shuddered at the mere thought of seeing either of them naked.

Good thing Dia swung the other.

The announcer's voice rattled from the loudspeaker as the crowd grew thicker, more bodies huddling in the bleachers. The homecoming court descended upon the field. Seniors, dressed in their finest, announced one-by-one as the crowd cheered. Carmine found it all quite ridiculous and barely paid attention to the bullshit charade.

Nicholas reached over and smacked Carmine on the arm as he leaned toward him. "Got a bet for you."

"I'm listening."

"Twenty bucks to whoever nails the homecoming queen first."

Carmine chuckled, hearing Tess groan nearby. She'd overheard. "You're on."

"You in, Dom?" Nicholas asked.

"What's that?" Dom glanced back at them, raising his eyebrows. "Am I in what?"

"Twenty bucks to nail the homecoming queen."

Dom scoffed, waving them off. "Hell to the no."

"Why not?" Nicholas asked. "Know you'll lose?"

"He has more respect that that," Tess chimed in, her eyes narrowed as she glared back at them.

"Yeah, and besides," Dominic said, motioning out toward the field. "Between the two of you, you've already nailed almost all of them. Chances are one of you already won."

Nicholas shrugged, while Carmine smirked. He was counting on that.

The announcer finished introducing the homecoming court, the crowd going wild with anticipation as they were narrowed down, the runners up announced. Carmine took another sip from his flask, relaxing as the voice boomed from the speaker. "Your 2003 homecoming queen… Miss Amy Barlow!"

Nicholas threw up his hands. "I'm out."

Carmine chuckled, watching as Amy took the dozen roses, the crown and sash being donned on her. "Guess that's a bust, huh?"

"That's what you get," Dom said. "You're supposed to be with a girl because you want her—because you like her—not because you want to win some bet. Screwing a girl for twenty bucks? That makes you a prostitute, bro."

"A whore," Tess sneered.

Dom laughed. "A cheap one, at that."

Carmine ignored the insult as he turned his attention back to the football field. He'd certainly been called worse. He wasn't even offended. A whore? Hell, he didn't doubt it.

The second half of the game was a haze as he finished off his liquor. He and Nicholas jetted out early in the fourth quarter as Durante fell further and further behind the other team. The game was a definite loss, but the night?

The night was only just starting.

* * *

Party after party, house after house… the two made their way around town before ultimately descending upon Aurora Lake once again.

Carmine, at some point, had lost his shirt as he strolled along the stretch of sandy beach, clutching a beer, untied Nike's once again loose on his feet. Same shit, every day. He was who he was, and he had no plans to change for anybody.

His eyes scanned the shoreline under the cloak of darkness, recognizing some friends, ogling some strangers. A sense of peace settled over Carmine as he infiltrated the crowd, feeling contentment in the chaos. This was when he was in his element, when he felt on top of the world. He could forget about the outside world—forget about his family, about his life, about everything he lost and everything he once loved—and just exist for a while, the nucleus of society, the center of the fucking universe. It was his kingdom, and they were his people, and nothing felt better to him than taking his place on his throne.

Because these people? These girls? They practically worshiped him.

He strolled toward the water, nearing Nicholas as he slung his arm over the shoulder of a small brunette, a fellow sophomore. Carmine couldn't remember her name.

Fuck, his memory was shot.

"So, uh, what's brown and sticky?" Nicholas asked the girl. Her face contorted in confusion as she thought it over.

Carmine strode right past them, so close he elbowed his friend. "A stick."

"Foul, DeMarco," Nicholas grumbled, trying to kick Carmine with his bum foot, but he dodged out of the way.

"A stick?" the girl asked, her brow furrowing.

"Yeah," Nicholas said, "it's brown and, you know… stick-y."

She forced out a laugh. "I get it! That's funny!"

Rolling his eyes, Carmine guzzled the rest of his beer as he strode further down the shoreline, toward the dock not far from the Barlow residence—the one Nicholas had earlier crashed into. Somehow the jet skis had been removed from the water, back in their place at one of the neighbor's houses.

Carmine crushed the beer can in his hand and tossed it toward the metal trashcan. The crumpled aluminum ball hit the side of it and ricocheted off, but he looked away, not caring.

A throat dramatically cleared behind him, so close the hair at his nape stood on end. He turned back around, coming face-to-face with Amy. She snatched up the beer can and clutched it tightly in her fist, shaking it at him. "That's littering."

"So?"

"So I live here," she said. "You're practically littering in my yard."

"So?" he said again. "I litter in your actual yard."

She shook her head. "You're ridiculous."

"And you're kinda cute for being such a raging bitch."

Her gaze darted straight to his. He expected to see her feathers ruffled, to see her furious, but she appeared a little shell-shocked instead. "What did you say?"

He raised his eyebrows, waving her off. While he liked to press her buttons a bit, he wasn't really trying to offend Nicholas's sister. "Don't worry about it. I didn't mean it."

She recoiled, like his words hurt. "Didn't mean it?"

"Yeah. Bitch… it's just a word. I didn't mean it. Although, well, you know…" She was sort of a bitch, as far as he was concerned. "Yeah."

"Oh, no, I meant…" Her cheeks flushed. "Never mind. It's nothing."

"Okay."

He turned to walk away again when she groaned loudly, throwing the beer can straight at the metal bin, missing just as badly as he had. Instead of picking it up, though, she kicked it and stomped off.

"That's littering!" he yelled after her, smirking.

The group eventually migrated to the Barlow residence, music blaring from the house as speakers were shoved up against the open windows. Joshua Barlow worked almost as much as Vincent DeMarco, which was practically all-the-fucking-time. Carmine sat down on the front porch, a haze of smoke clouding around him as the steady flow of alcohol simmered in his bloodstream. Sky-high, drunk off his ass, he could hardly see, let alone think. Nothing mattered, nothing was more important, than that moment, in that place. It was what he lived for—the nothingness, the euphoria of teenage recklessness, as it washed away all of his painful memories.

It washed away everything.

It was something he had in common with Nicholas, the thing that fortified their friendship. Most people lived for the moments they'd remember forever, but him and Nicholas? They lived for the moments they could finally fucking forget.

The screen door slammed behind Carmine as he took a deep drag from a blunt, the smoke burning his lungs as it infiltrated his system. Familiar laughter met his ears—laughter he rarely heard, because Tess was always harping and never laughing at anything. He looked behind him and blanched, rapidly blinking, when he saw his brother wrap his arms around her and pull her to him. Tess giggled—she fucking giggled, like a bitty schoolgirl in a goddamn plaid skirt—as Dom kissed the corner of her mouth, his lips roaming down her jawline to her neck.

They paid Carmine no mind as they bounded down the steps, away from the house, kissing and touching. He gaped at them, stunned. "What the fuck?"

"Back to that?" Nicholas asked, somehow suddenly appearing at Carmine's side. He'd been so in a daze he hadn't heard his friend's approach. "That's all you said this morning."

Nicholas grabbed the blunt from Carmine and took a hit, closing his eyes as he inhale deeply, savoring it.

"Do you see that shit?" Carmine asked, waving toward the silver Audi parked in the grass nearby. Dom's car. Dom, who had Tess on the hood of it, where he stood between her legs and greedily kissed her lips. "Just… what the fuck?"

"Ah, yeah." Nicholas nodded, not appearing surprised. "He's definitely been hitting that."

"What?" Carmine asked, eyes wide with surprise. "What the fuck?"

"Come on, you had to have known," Nicholas said. "It was obvious, the way they were always being all touchy-feely, lovey-dovey."

"No, I just… no."

No.

Not happening.

His brother couldn't be doing that.

No fucking way.

Nicholas started to say something else when someone called his name. "Shit, I'll be back. That's Jane. You remember Jane, from Biology? I got a Dick she wants to meet. Get it, Dick and Jane?"

Nicholas laughed, shoving him jokingly, as he hobbled down the steps and wandered over toward where the young brunette from earlier stood. Ah, that was her name. Jane.

Shaking his head with disbelief, Carmine stood up, swaying a bit on shaky legs. He felt like he had slipped into some other dimension. He didn't like it over here. He preferred his world, for fuck's sake.

He headed inside, going straight for the kitchen, snatching one of the cheap beers from the refrigerator. He popped the top and took a swig as he started toward the bathroom. He made it halfway there when a door opened and rambunctious laughter streamed out from a room. Someone stepped out into the hallway right in front of him, away from the group gathered in a bedroom. His footsteps faltered when Amy hesitated right in front of him. Her gaze scanned him, eyes narrowed. "Pathetic."

"You're so fucking childish."

"Me? Childish?" she scoffed. "You're the little boy."

"There's nothing little about me, Amy. Nothing."

"You're right," she said. "Your ego certainly isn't little."

"You know, you remind me a little of Tess," he said. "Always flinging around your petty insults, like you think they actually might hurt me."

"Tess, huh?" She crossed her arms over her chest. "Another one of your conquests, Don Juan?"

He narrowed his eyes at her bitter tone. "What did I ever do to you?"

"Nothing," she said. "Nothing at all."

He stared at her for a moment before stepping right toward her, closing the distance between them. "Is that what the problem is? Huh?"

"You're a jerk."

"I am," he replied. He was. He knew it. "Is that why you hate me so much?"

"I never said I hate you."

"You don't have to say it."

She narrowed her eyes at him, standing her ground. "Fine. You wanna know?"

"Yes."

"Why is it you look at every girl around here but me?" she asked. "I know your reputation, but I don't know it. Never once have you made a move on me. Never once have you even looked the slighted bit interested. Why is that? What's wrong with me?"

He stared at her. Not exactly the reaction he'd expected. "Ah, bruise your ego, did I?"

She glared at him, huffing as she started to storm away, but he stepped in front of her to stop her. Christ, he didn't want to hurt her feelings. Despite everything, he liked Amy… about as much as he could like a girl, anyway. She gave him hell, but she looked out for Nicholas, and by extension, him.

"There's nothing wrong with you. You're crazy if you think I haven't imagined doing things to you that would drive you fucking wild."

"Then why haven't you?"

He was taken aback by her bluntness. "Because you're Amy Barlow."

"And you're Carmine DeMarco," she said, stepping right to him, so close her breasts pressed up against his chest. "So what?"

He wanted to put up an argument… he had one, he was sure of it. He knew it, deep down inside. He knew there was a good goddamn reason he didn't pursue her, a reason he kept his distance, a reason their barely-tolerate-each-other-publicly relationship worked beautifully. But at that moment, as she stood toe-to-toe with him, the challenge in her bloodshot eyes—drunk, too—he completely forgot what it was. Here he was, standing there with the homecoming queen as she practically dared him to fuck her.

Nail the homecoming queen… that had been his goal tonight, right? Fuck it.

He didn't think anymore. He didn't even try to put up a fight. His hands were all over her, his lips on her neck, his teeth nipping her skin, her freshly manicured fingernails digging into his back as she clung to him.

Zero-to-sixty in the blink of an eye.

He dragged her straight past her bedroom, where her friends gathered, into the closest vacant space: Nicholas's room. Carmine kicked the door, slamming it closed with his foot, and the two of them stumbled through the mess toward the unmade bed. Amy gasped, steering him a different direction instead. "Ugh, not on the bed."

"Why not?"

"Really? That's my little brother's bed. Gross."

Her brother's bed. Those words washed through Carmine, barely sinking in. Her brother. His best friend. This was wrong, so fucking wrong… you don't fuck with your best friend's sister. He reminded himself that, silently chastising himself, internally protesting the entire time, but he was too far-gone, the inebriation severing body and mind.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Yep, that's what he wanted.

To fuck.

Carmine fumbled with his clothes, pulling a condom from his wallet and rolling it on in the darkness as Amy tugged him toward the grubby couch where Carmine camped out whenever he stayed over. Amy started stripping as she lay back on the couch, and Carmine hovered over her, easily sliding between her slim thighs.

There was nothing loving about it, nothing sensual. It was sexual. It was pure, raw, unadulterated fucking. She cried out as he thrust into her, her nails clawing his back. He closed his eyes, losing himself in the sensation of sinking inside of her, the pleasure and pain. It was everything.

It wasn't long—a few deep strokes, not long enough for either to break a sweat or reach their peak—before it was over, ended as abruptly as it started. The door flung open, slamming into the wall. "You in here, DeMarco? Please tell me your punk ass isn't passed out already. I need to borrow a condom."

Nicholas.

Carmine instantly stilled, deep inside of her, as dread coursed through him. His eyes shot toward the doorway as Nicholas stepped into the bedroom and flicked on the light switch. Carmine grunted, squinting from the harsh light, as Amy cursed beneath him.

Nicholas glanced toward the couch and quickly turned away. "Oh fuck, sorry, man. Didn't know you were with a… girl."

The moment he said girl, Carmine could detect the change in his tone. His voice dropped low, a cold, hard edge to the word. Carmine quickly sat up, pulling the condom off and throwing it in the trashcan as he fixed his pants. Amy wordlessly fumbled with her clothes, covering herself up.

Nicholas took a deep breath, the movement obvious in his back as his shoulders stiffened, harshly rising and falling, before he slowly turned back around. He glanced between the two of them, his expression blank… so detached a sense of trepidation simmered inside of Carmine. The calm before the storm.

Amy said not a damn word as she bolted right past her brother and out of the room. She knew it, too. This was bad. Real fucking bad. Nicholas just stood there, staring at Carmine. Carmine didn't know what to say. All the reasoning he had ignored earlier pounded away at him as he quickly sobered up again. Not good.

"That wasn't a girl," Nicholas said, his voice low.

"Uh, well…" Carmine was going to point out that Amy was, in fact, a girl, but he knew what Nicholas meant. She wasn't just a girl. She wasn't just a 'nobody'. She was a 'somebody' to Nicholas. "No."

"My sister?" Nicholas raised his eyebrows, the first sign of anger showing as he clenched his hands into fists at his side. "You fucked my sister?"

"Well, uh…" He wanted to deny it, to lie his ass off, but he'd been caught red-handed with his dick in the honey-pot, so-to-speak. Anything short of an admission would be a goddamn insult. "Yeah, I did."

Nicholas stared at him for a moment longer before turning around and walking out of the room. Carmine stood there, stunned, and decided to follow his friend. That couldn't have been it. Not at all.

Carmine made it to the front door when there was a commotion outside. He thrust the screen door open and stepped out on the porch when he heard Dom yell. "Whoa, Nick… what the hell are you doing, man?"

Carmine looked up in just enough time to see Nicholas swing a baseball bat at the Mazda, shattering the driver's side window. Gasping, Carmine stared with shock. His car. His fucking car. "My fucking car!"

Before Carmine could even fully register what was happening, Nicholas came toward him with the bat. Carmine ducked as Nicholas swung, barely missing him. Cursing, he jumped back when Nicholas swung again, his screaming echoing over the sound of the music, drawing everyone's attention. "My sister, DeMarco? Of all the girls in this town, you think you can fuck around with my sister?"

"Look, calm down," Carmine said, raising his hands defensively, but it did nothing to stop his friend. Nicholas tried to swing again when Dom jumped in, snatching ahold of the bat and prying it from Nicholas's hands. Dom tossed it away from them, the bat landing in the grass with a thud, but being disarmed didn't stop Nicholas. No, he wouldn't be deterred that easily.

Nicholas lunged at Carmine, barely giving him enough time to brace himself for the impact. The fist landed on his jaw, pain tearing through his face and down his neck as his head jolted to the side.

"Knock it the hell off!" Dom shouted.

Carmine held his hands up to stop his brother from intervening again. "Let him get it out."

He'd get it out, and they'd be fine

They always were.

Dom hesitated but took a step back at Carmine's insistence. Carmine, watching his brother, not wanting to involve him, hadn't been prepared for Nicholas's attack. Another blow landed right in his nose, blinding pain blasting him as whiteness coated his vision. The agony spurred him to react, and he blocked Nicholas's next hit, instead punching back.

Fists flew as the boys lunged, kicking and striking, all out brawling in the grass as the crowd formed around them. They beat the daylights out of each other, blood pouring from both of their faces, knuckles bloody and bodies battered by the time their energy waned. Dom finally stepped in then, ignoring Carmine's protests, and shoved the two of them away from each other.

"Enough!" he shouted. "What the hell, guys? You're best friends!"

Nicholas spit on the grass as he shook his head, blood running down his chin. His lip was split. "Not anymore."

Those cold words struck Carmine so hard he visibly flinched. He hadn't even flinched from Nicholas's fists. "Don't be fucking stupid."

"Stupid?" Nicholas stepped toward him, but was blocked by Dom's body wedged between them. "You're dead to me, DeMarco. Dead."

* * *

For the second time that night, both boys landed in the emergency room in Durante. This time, however, there was no laughter. There was no joking. There was nothing funny about it.

Carmine sat still on the edge of the sterile white bed as Jenn restitched the wound on his eyebrow. His earlier stitches had been torn out in the scuffle.

Nicholas sat no more than ten feet from him, on the end of the adjacent bed, another nurse cleaning his wounds. Between them stood Vincent DeMarco, both of their charts in his hand, a look of indecision on his face as he glanced between the two of them. He obviously wondered what the hell happened, but Carmine knew a part of him realized it was an answer he didn't want to hear.

After Carmine's stitches were back in and both boys were bandaged up, Vincent waved the nurses off, dismissing them from the room. They quietly left, and Vincent shut the door behind them, sighing as he tossed the charts down on a small table. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he turned back to look between them again. "The ER twice in one night… are we looking to set a record?"

Neither spoke.

"What happened?" he asked, waving between them. "Who did this to you? I know you didn't do it to yourselves."

Carmine scoffed at that as Nicholas let out a dry laugh, licking his split lip. They still didn't speak. What the hell could they say?

"Ah." Vincent seemed to get it at that moment. "You did it to each other."

Again, they said nothing.

Vincent eyed them peculiarly. "Do we need to involve the police?"

That finally got them speaking.

"Nah, no big deal," Nicholas said, hopping down off the bed and wincing as he put weight on his ankle. "I just fell."

"Sounds about right to me," Carmine muttered.

Nicholas knew the routine by now, going into his own chart and grabbing the sheet out to be discharged. He said nothing else, strolling out without another word. No 'goodbye'. No 'see you later'. No nothing. Not even a 'fuck you'.

Carmine sat there for a moment, staring straight ahead. He could feel his father's gaze on him, assessing him, judging him. "What did you do, Carmine?"

"What makes you think I did something?"

Vincent strolled over and roughly grasped Carmine's chin, lifting his head to survey his face, purposely making him look him in the eyes. Angry, Carmine shoved his father's hand away. He hated when he did that, when he so casually manhandled him. It made Carmine feel two feet tall and ten years younger. Fuck that.

"He's your best friend, son," Vincent said gently.

"Not anymore."

Saying those words out loud stung Carmine, like the verbal acknowledgement made them real. Nicholas wasn't his best friend anymore.

"Why not?"

Carmine glared at his father. "Why do you care?"

"I always care about what's going on with you," he said. "You're my son."

Laughing dryly, Carmine jumped down from the hospital bed. "Don't try that fatherly bullshit out on me now, Dr. DeMarco." He purposely sneered the name as he shook his head. "You can play that game around everyone else, but I know you. I live with you. That ship sailed a long, long time ago."

* * *

Thumping bass vibrated the school gymnasium as hip-hop blared from the speakers flanking a DJ. Colored lights swirled around the makeshift dance floor with bodies amassed in the center, laughing and dancing the night away.

Carmine stood along the side, his back to the crowd as he poured himself a glass of punch. A quick glance around ensured nobody was watching as he slipped his flask from his pocket and poured a bit of the liquor into his small cup. After putting the flask away, he turned around and leaned back against the table, taking a sip.

The subtle burn soothed his nerves.

Why was he here? He didn't know. He didn't want to be. School dances weren't his idea of a good time, but he had made plans to come weeks ago… plans he just seemed to instinctively follow through with, despite what had happened the night before.

His muscles ached and his head pounded viciously along to the beat of the music… last night's fight with Nicholas had taken a toll on his body. He knew he looked like hell, too, cuts and bruises marring his tanned skin.

He looked about as good as the motherfucker across the gymnasium.

Nicholas stood along the other side of the room, laughing along with a group of friends. Their friends, or more so Nicholas's friends, it seemed. Even Carmine's own brother was over there, laughing and joking along with him.

Seems they chose their side, and it wasn't with him.

Carmine's gaze drifted from them to Amy out on the dance floor. Amy, who had helped create this fucking mess, yet she looked as if she had not a care in the world, wearing her homecoming crown and dancing with the starting quarterback of the varsity squad. Bullshit.

Guzzling the rest of the punch, Carmine tossed the plastic cup in the closest trashcan as he strode through the crowd, toward the exit on the other side of the gymnasium. He could be miserable elsewhere… somewhere quiet, that didn't make his head pound so fucking hard. Pulling his keys from his pocket, he nodded goodbyes to a few people who caught his eye, keeping his head down as he approached the crowd with Nicholas. He wasn't in the mood for the shit tonight. Maybe if he kept his distance and gave him time to cool down, it would all blow over.

The sound of his friend's laughter made his hair bristle as it frazzled his nerves yet again. How the hell could he be so happy? Carmine nearly made it to the door when he heard Nicholas's voice, purposely raised.

"What's the best sex position to make an ugly baby?"

Carmine rolled his eyes. A joke.

"I don't know," someone said. "What?"

"Don't know either," Nicholas said. "Too bad Carmine's mom's dead or we'd ask her."

A low murmur rolled through the group before strained silence fell over everything. Carmine felt like he'd been plunged in a bucket of ice water. A sickeningly painful numbness slowly coated every inch of him, pins and needles on his flesh, as his heart rate skyrocketed. Mere seconds passed, barely a blink of an eye, but it felt like an eternity inside of Carmine. An eternity of indecision. An eternity of devastation. An eternity of disbelief.

There's no way he just said that.

No way.

But when the second passed, all indecision was gone. The devastation manifested into rage, the disbelief pure adrenaline. Turning, Carmine pounced, swinging his fists without hesitation.

The crowd backed up, getting out of the way, as Carmine unleashed his rage. Nicholas had been caught off guard and could do nothing but try to shield his face, blocking the attack. It ended almost as fast as it started, the school administration and security stepping in and tearing the boys apart. Carmine was shaking, furious, as someone dragged him away from Nicholas.

"Not cool," Dom said, helping Nicholas off the ground despite the anger in his voice. Nicholas ignored him, pushing Dom away, as others shoved him toward the door to get him out of there.

"This isn't over!" Carmine shouted, breaking from the grasp as he started for the exit after him. He flung the doors open and stepped outside as Nicholas casually strode through the parking lot toward his truck. "You hear me, Barlow? This isn't over!"

Dom stepped out behind Carmine and grabbed his arm to calm him down, but he shook his brother off. Fuck being calm.

Nicholas paused near his truck and turned around, glaring at Carmine. Blood streamed from the boy's mouth. He was lucky Carmine didn't knock his teeth out for what he said.

"You know what, DeMarco?" Nicholas shouted. "Fuck you!"

"Right back at you," Carmine said. "Fuck you and your fucking sister."

"Yeah, well, fuck your mother!" Nicholas spat.

"Don't you talk about my mother," Carmine yelled. "I swear to God, you mention her again, and I'll kill you."

"What, like you got her killed?" Nicholas spat. "Wah-wah, poor baby, watched his Mommy die because he was too chicken-shit to do anything to help her. Does your brother know you left her to die?"

The words were like knives, leaving gaping wounds in Carmine's chest as they stabbed at him, again and again. He had told his friend that in confidence. Nicholas was the only person he had ever confessed that to—the fear that constantly existed inside of him, nagging him, tearing him apart, piece-by-piece… the fear, the belief, that he had abandoned his mother that night in the alley. That he had left her there to die alone.

The coldness washed through Carmine again, but this time there was no stopping him. Nicholas was in his truck and pulling away by the time Carmine reached his car. He didn't hesitate, didn't think twice about anything. He was going to make Nicholas pay for those words. 

He drove straight to Aurora Lake, raging simmering inside of him as he went.

Nicholas's truck was already there was he arrived, the driver's side door wide open as he climbed out of the cab. Carmine's tires squealed as he pulled right up to the house, his headlights illuminating the truck. Nicholas turned to him, eyes narrowed, bitter words right on the tip of his tongue, but he never had a chance to get them out.

Carmine reached under his seat and pulled out the loaded Colt .45 he kept concealed there. Climbing out, Carmine clutched the gun. Nicholas's gaze darted to it, eyes widening as he froze in terror.

Raising his arm, Carmine fired.

Bullet after bullet tore into the truck, clanking against metal as sparks flew, the sound of gunfire echoing through the night air. He emptied the gun, expelling every bullet. The last one hit the gas tank, a sudden spark igniting. Startled, Carmine took an instinctive step back as flames shot out around the truck. The fire was sudden and explosive, flames licking at the house and igniting the corner of the porch.

"Fuck!" Nicholas screamed. "Oh God! My house!"

His house. Carmine stared at the flames as he lowered the gun, the sight of the fire washing the coldness away. "What the fuck?"

"What the fuck?" Nicholas echoed, turning to him. "What the fuck, DeMarco?"

What the fuck?

* * *

The shiny metal handcuffs dug into Carmine's wrists behind his back, his shoulders aching as he sat in the hard plastic chair along the far wall. The police station not far from Aurora Lake was quiet, not the flurry of activity Carmine had expected. A lone woman sat behind a desk at the front, taking calls, as a few officers strolled throughout the building, filing reports and taking statements.

Nobody spoke to him. Nobody questioned him. Nobody even tried. They brought him in and sat him down, leaving him alone with nothing but his agitated thoughts. He wasn't surprised, given who his father was… they wouldn't dare question him without alerting the good ol' doctor, for fear of incurring his wrath, but it annoyed Carmine, nonetheless.

He didn't need his father. He didn't need him for anything.

Time passed. More people strolled by without giving him a look, pretending as if he didn't exist, until the door to the station opened and Vincent DeMarco walked in. An officer swiftly met him right at the entrance, whispering quietly to him, as Vincent's eyes shifted past the officer to where Carmine sat.

Carmine stared at his father, trying to gauge his mood as he slowly approached. He wasn't afraid of him, per se. No, although he knew exactly what his father was capable of, he also knew the man would never dare physically harm him. But Carmine also knew there were ways to hurt someone without laying a finger on them.

Nicholas had proven that to him again tonight.

And as Vincent approached, Carmine felt it, seeing the disappointment in his father's eyes. He tried to put on a brave face, to keep the mask of indifference in place, but it stung. The rage Carmine could take. But the pity?

That he could fucking keep.

Vincent let out an exasperated sigh as he sat down in the chair beside Carmine. Tension rolled from him in waves, causing Carmine's natural instinct to want to flee to kick in. It was a defensive mechanism—he somehow managed to remember that from psychology class. When people were stressed their reaction was to either fight or flee, and at that moment Carmine wanted nothing more than to get the fuck out of there. He’d already done enough fighting to last a lifetime—after all, it was what had landed him in the chair in the first place.

"They're charging you with attempted murder."

Carmine blanched. Attempted murder? "I didn't—"

Vincent raised a hand to silence him before he could even start pleading his case. "They say you unloaded a gun into Nicholas's truck with him there. Is that true?"

"Of course not. I'm innocent. That's what we say, right? Always innocent."

"That's what we're going to say, but I'm asking you, son… is it true?"

Carmine scoffed. He wanted to say something mocking, to ask his father why the hell he was pretending to care right now, but he was too frazzled.

Attempted murder?

Instead, bitter laughter rattled his chest.

"This isn’t a joke, son."

"Isn’t it?” Carmine muttered, uncomfortably shifting position. "I thought the, uh, punch line was pretty good, personally."

Vincent shook his head. "I feel like I don't even know you anymore, Carmine. You're better than this. You weren't raised this way."

"Wasn't I?"

Vincent didn't have a response to that.

"Look, I didn't try to kill him. I just… I wanted to scare him. I wanted to piss him off. I wanted to hurt him."

He wanted Nicholas to hurt as much as he hurt.

"Oh, you definitely succeeded there." Vincent ran his hands down his face. "I'll see what I can do. Just stay quiet and be on your best behavior until I sort this out, okay?"

Carmine nodded slowly. Vincent reached over and patted him on the back, squeezing his neck as if trying to reassure him. It was the most fatherly gesture he'd felt from the man in years.

Carmine fucking hated himself for relishing it.

* * *

Carmine was locked up overnight and released the next afternoon into his father's custody.

Three weeks later, he found himself right back at the police station, but there were no handcuffs this time. Carmine sat in a conference room, a long wooden table separating him and Nicholas. Their fathers and lawyers flanked both of them, while the District Attorney, the Chief of Police, and a Superior Court judge occupied the other chairs.

It was off the record, a meeting that nobody would ever know happened except for the people invited into the room. Vincent had paid a lot of money to make it go down this way, had called in a lot of favors—favors Carmine wasn't sure he ever wanted to know about.

A small twinge of guilt settled deep in his chest as he glared across the table straight at Nicholas. Why did he feel guilty? He wasn't sure. Maybe it was for what he had done… or maybe it was for what he still had the urge to do.

"So, here's the arrangement," the DA said, shifting through the stack of papers in front of him. "The DeMarco family agrees to be liable for all property damage and pay restitution in the amount of a quarter million dollars. Carmine is barred from the Aurora Lake community and is to stay away from the Barlow family."

Carmine didn't react, still staring straight ahead, as Nicholas muttered something under his breath.

"In exchange, all charges against Carmine will be dropped," the DA continued. "There's the matter of school that needs to be addressed, however."

"Won't be a problem," Vincent said assuredly. Carmine's brow furrowed, but he still didn't look away from his old friend. Both boys had been suspended for the fight at the homecoming dance, but they were supposed to head back to Durante High next week.

They had all their fucking classes together.

"Yeah." Joshua Barlow cleared his throat. "I've pulled Nicholas out of Durante. He's enrolled up here in Aurora County now."

Nicholas muttered again, louder that time, clearly not happy about that. Aurora's football program was shit. If you wanted to go anywhere, you needed a team like Durante behind you.

Sucks for him.

"Great," the DA said. "It's all settled then. As far as I'm concerned, you two never have to cross paths again."

They said some parting words as everyone got up to leave, but Carmine remained in his seat, unmoving. Nicholas didn't move, either. They glared at each other as the others filtered out. Vincent hesitated by the door, eyeing the two of them warily, but shrugged it off and walked out instead.

Slowly, Nicholas pushed his chair back to stand up. "You know, DeMarco, I would've forgiven you. I would've. I was pissed about my sister, but I would've gotten over it. You were my best friend."

"Not anymore," Carmine said.

"You're right. Not anymore. Because this? I'm not sure I can forgive you for this."

"It doesn't matter," Carmine said, glaring at him. "Because I'll never forgive you."

Nicholas shook his head. "I don't get why you're so pissed. You tried to kill me."

"You did something even worse."

"What's that?"

"You betrayed me."

Nicholas scoffed. "Whatever. You'll learn someday, DeMarco."

Carmine's eyes narrowed. That sounded vaguely like a threat. "Learn what?"

"Learn that this? Relationships? Friendships? They're a two-way street. And until you get over yourself, you'll never keep anybody. I'll make sure of it."

* * *

Later that night, Carmine was sitting in the living room at his house, vaguely watching a movie, when his father walked in and tossed a brochure on his lap. Sighing with annoyance, Carmine picked it up and glanced at the front.

Benton Academy

"We're leaving the day after tomorrow," Vincent said, "so you might want to start packing your things."

"You're sending me away? Really?"

"You did this to yourself, Carmine."

Carmine stared at the brochure as his father walked out.

He did it to himself. He did.

But it didn't stop him from blaming everybody else for it, anyway.

"Whatever," he grumbled to the empty room, standing up and throwing the brochure down on the coffee table without even opening it. What did it matter? He had no reason to stay in Durante, anyway.

Wasn't like he had any friends.

Forever.

Impatient pounding vibrated the wooden blue door. Carmine stood at the top of the staircase at the house on Felton Drive in Chicago, staring down at the foyer in the dim lighting. Shadows swept across the front door, but enough early evening sunlight still streamed inside for him to see it shaking from the force of the knocks.

"Can you get that?" Haven asked, stepping out of a bedroom behind him. Carmine continued to stare at the door in silence, watching as the knob jiggled. Jesus Christ, they were practically trying to break in. Haven sighed loudly at his lack of movement, slipping past him. "Okay, then… I'll get it."

She took the steps two at a time and paused in the foyer to undo the half dozen locks he insisted they use, as another form ran out of the bedroom and pushed past Carmine, not nearly as delicate about it as Haven had been. The blurry pink, sparkling mass nearly knocked him off his fucking feet, sending him stumbling a few steps, as they darted downstairs and out of view.

"Excuse you!" Carmine shouted.

"Excuse me!" a little voice shouted back, the back door opening and slamming again before Haven could even get the other door unlocked.

Haven pulled the front door open, a blast of sunlight sweeping over her, making her practically glow. She started to speak, barely getting a syllable out when someone rushed inside. The tiny football player slammed right into her, like he was a linebacker sacking the fucking quarterback.

Stumbling back a few steps, Haven laughed, grasping ahold of the little boy and wrapping her arms around him in a hug.

"Vinnie! What did I tell you about tackling people?"

The loud, grating voice rang out right away, the familiarity making Carmine grimace, seconds before the bright blonde head appeared in the foyer.

Tess.

She stepped inside, reaching for her son, but Haven pulled him aside, out of reach of his mother. "Oh, he's fine. He's only five."

Tess rolled her eyes as the boy slipped away, sprinting through the house for the back door. "No running inside, Vinnie!"

"That's okay, too," Haven said, waving toward him as he headed out into the back yard. "It's certainly nothing new around here. Besides, he's not hurting anything."

Carmine snickered under his breath, watching Tess's cheek twitch as she bit back a response. While Tess didn't like to have anyone contradict her, she knew in this house, Haven's word was law. She spoke, and everyone fucking listened, even Carmine, who had a habit of not listening to anybody.

Corrado could certainly attest to that. Carmine liked to think it was his inability to follow rules that saved him from a life of mayhem. Corrado knew he wouldn't make it, that he wouldn't last much longer in the life.

Never had Carmine been so damn grateful to fuck up at something so important.

But while Carmine never listened to anybody else, he listened to his wife. It was less about authority and more about respect, he figured. After the shit Haven went through in other people's houses growing up, the least she deserved was some control in her own home. So if she wanted to paint the walls bubblegum pink and let people run around like fucking banshees, so be it.

Tess dropped the matter with a shake of the head, muttering under her breath. "Spoken like a true auntie."

Haven smiled, as if she wore that shit like a badge of honor, as her attention turned to the still open door. Dominic stepped into view, grinning, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Excitement oozed from the fucker as he stood there, cloaked in all black except for the hideous clown mask perched on top of his head, ripped straight out of a Stephen King flick.

"Twinkle toes," he said, his voice high-pitched. "You ready for this?"

She nodded eagerly. "Are you?"

"Oh you know it," he said. "I was born ready."

Rolling his eyes, Carmine descended the stairs, not feeling a fraction of the enthusiasm those two put off. Everyone looked up at the sound of his approach. Haven and Dom smiled, while Tess greeted him with her usual I wish I didn't have to deal with this asshole scowl. He tipped his head at her, foregoing his usual sarcastic greeting.

Play nice today, Haven had said.

Sure, that had been meant for the tiniest DeMarcos, but like Carmine said: when Haven spoke, he sure as fuck tried to listen.

"Don't you look chipper," Dom said sarcastically, punching his arm when he wordlessly strode by. "What's got you so sunshiny today?"

Before Carmine could respond, Tess chimed in. "Sobriety. I thought he was insufferable as a drunk, but sober? He's perpetually PMSing."

Carmine opened his mouth to take a swipe back at her when Haven interjected. "Be nice. It's been one of those days."

One of those days.

Haven didn't elaborate, but they all knew what she meant. One of those days where Carmine's sleep had been plagued with nightmares and his waking hours hadn't been much better. The numbness, the feelings of guilt, his insides taut like a coil. It's been years, but memories still haunted him, triggered unexpectedly out of nowhere.

PTSD, the doctors said. Watching a parent die violently is traumatic. Carmine had been the lucky fucker to go through that shit twice. As a kid, it left him frozen, unresponsive and guilt-stricken. As an adult, well...

Yeah, sometimes sobriety really fucking sucked.

They started talking again while Carmine slipped away, heading for the back yard where the kids had disappeared. He spotted his nephew right away, hiking a football behind him at nobody. Vincent. Tough shoes to fill, Carmine thought. He wondered how the boy would feel about the name when he grew up and came to the realization that his grandfather had been a hell of a lot more than just a small town doctor.

Carmine strolled over, snatching up the ball when the boy threw it between his legs. He palmed the football, his fingers settling between the laces and resting against the worn brown leather. A strange sense of ease settled over him. Man, it had been years since he played, but the familiarity was striking, like riding a bike.

Vinnie stood up straight and turned toward him. "Can you throw, Uncle Carmine?"

Carmine laughed under his breath. "I think so."

Vinnie's eyes lit up, and he stood there with his hands out, waiting as Carmine backed up. He threw the ball, watching the perfect spiral as it sailed across the yard, straight to the little boy. Vinnie tried to catch it, getting his hands around it, but his grip slipped, the ball tumbling into the grass. The boy snatched it right up, though, and reared back, throwing it with all his might. It wobbled horribly but came right toward Carmine. He didn't even have to move to catch it.

"Wow!" Vinnie said, eyes widening. "You're good!"

Carmine smiled, only responding with a slight shrug of the shoulder, before throwing the ball again. They tossed it back and forth for a few minutes before a squeal echoed through the yard. Carmine looked around instinctively, seeking out the source, his eyes falling on the little pink form hanging from a tree branch. Un-fucking-believable.

"Get down before you break something," Carmine said, catching the ball when Vinnie threw it again. "You hurt yourself and your mother's liable to hurt me."

The little girl listened without hesitation, letting go of the tree branch and dropping to the ground, falling right on her ass. Carmine winced, tossing the ball back to Vinnie, as she picked herself right back up, showing no signs of distress. She ran straight for them, her princess gown fucking filthy, already torn, the matching tiara long gone. The hair her mother had tormented over all goddamn afternoon, curling and fixing, was now destroyed, frizzy and bushy and fifty shades of fucked up.

What else did he expect, though, from a child that carried his genes? The girl never stood a chance. Rowdiness was encoded in her DNA. Only three years old and she was already a tiny terror, fearless and reckless. She wasn't a bad kid. No, not at all. But she had a spirit that couldn't be broken, a wildness that couldn't be tamed. The girl was strong-willed and passionate.

And Carmine fucking loved it.

He'd been worried about having a kid, but even more worried about having a daughter. Daughters terrified him. Boys broke hearts indiscriminately. They didn't care whose daughter it was. Carmine knew, because he'd been one of them. And it terrified him, the thought of karma catching up to him and his child being on the receiving end. He'd spent a lot of his life paying for his father's countless sins. He didn't want his daughter to have to pay for his.

But her? Maura Miranda DeMarco?

He wasn't worried at all.

If anything, the boys would need to watch out for her.

"Oh, me!" she squealed, jumping up and down, her bare feet dirty from running around in the grass. "Me! Me! Throw it to me, Daddy!"

Carmine gripped the ball with both hands as he regarded her before tossing the ball to Vinnie instead. "You wanna play, Maura? Go put on some shoes."

"But—"

"You heard me, piccola. Shoes."

She turned with a loud huff and ran inside, returning just a moment later with a pair of pink Nike's on her feet, the laces untied. Carmine shook his head, catching the ball when Vinnie threw it at him, before he turned to his daughter. The back door stood wide open behind her, the rest of the family starting to filter out.

Maura held both arms out and he tossed the ball underhanded toward her. She caught it, and he smiled with pride, his expression slipping when she took off running straight at him, full speed. His eyes widened at the fierce determination on her face and had just enough time to take a step back when she rammed right into him.

"Tackle!" she screeched, nearly knocking him down. Carmine laughed, stumbling, and grabbed ahold of her. She was just a little thing, two-and-a-half feet tall and barely twenty-five pounds soaking wet. He picked her up, swinging her around as she clutched onto the ball tightly, her frantic giggles echoing through the yard when he wrapped one arm around her and started tickling her sides with his free hand. "Daddy! No, tickles! No! Tackle!"

"I think you need to learn the rules of the game, sweetheart," he said, spinning her upside down, holding her there, her head dangling, wayward hair hanging down toward his knees. "The man without the ball does the tackling. You're trying to sack the quarterback when he doesn't even have the ball anymore. That's a fifteen-yard penalty."

"Carmine!" Haven stepped out onto the back porch and gaped at him. "She's wearing a dress!"

"She has pants on underneath."

"So? Put her down before all the blood rushes to her head!"

Carmine obliged, dropping Maura into the grass as she giggled some more. He knelt down, tickling her again, before snatching the ball from her grip. Maura jumped to her feet and ran after him, trying to get it back, but Carmine tossed it to Vinnie before she could get her hands on it. Maura ran into him again, wrapping her arms around his legs from behind, determined to bring him down. Before Carmine could get her, she head-butted the back of his legs, making his knees buckle. He hit the ground, rolling onto his back, just as she took a flying leap on top of him, pointy elbows and knees digging into his ribs.

"Christ, girl," Carmine said, yanking her into his arms as she continued to laugh. "Everything about that was against the rules. Unnecessary roughness."

He got to his feet again, pulling her with him, as Haven walked over. She bent down, tugging on Maura's dress, trying to fix it, before she started smoothing the little girl's hair. None of it helped, though. There was no helping that disaster.

"Why'd you get her all dirty?" Haven asked, looking up at Carmine. "I spent all day getting her ready."

Carmine held up his hands defensively. "Hey, I had nothing to do with it. That was all her."

Rolling her eyes, Haven stood back up. "I have a hard time believing you're innocent."

"I am." Carmine reached over, grabbing ahold of Haven. She yelped as Carmine picked her up. He couldn't toss her around like he did Maura, certainly couldn't swing her upside down, but her feet dangled inches from the ground as she wiggled in his arms, her cheeks flushing. "I'm innocent, tesoro."

A smile tugged her lips as she wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning her head over to kiss him. "You swear?"

"You know I do."

Laughing, Haven pushed away from him when he set her back on her feet. She knelt down to tie Maura's shoes when Vinnie ran over to his parents, tossing the ball to his father. "Dad, Uncle Carmine's good at football! He throws much better than you."

Carmine grinned smugly as Dom's gaze bounced toward him. He'd come to like kids because of their lack of filter. Didn't matter what it was—they said whatever the fuck was on their mind, propriety be damned.

"Yeah, well, your uncle used to play when we were younger. He was starting quarterback for the high school varsity team, almost got the chance to play in college."

"Why didn't he?" Vinnie's attention shifted from his father straight to Carmine. "Why didn't you play?"

"Shit happened."

Tess groaned. "Don't curse at my son."

Carmine didn't even miss a beat as he amended his statement. "Stuff happened."

"What stuff?" Vinnie asked, eyes wide.

Carmine wished he could be honest, but that was an ugly truth for a kid to hear. Vinnie still looked at everything with bright eyes, like he believed the world was a beautiful place to be. And while some of it was beautiful, Carmine knew there was a lot of fucking ugly out there, absolutely appalling, the kind of ugly that bred nightmares. He hadn't known about it at that age, either… had still believed in the Happily-Ever-After Once-Upon-A-Time bullshit… and he didn't ever want to be the one to take that away from anybody. He'd harmed enough people in his life.

"My throwing arm got injured," Carmine said. It was a half-truth, at least. He had gotten shot in his arm, making it unusable for a while. "By the time it got better, well… I'd missed my chance."

Arms slipped around him from behind, hands linking together over his stomach as Haven tilted her chin up and rested it on his shoulder. He felt her lips gently press against his neck, a tingle radiating along the skin. It was a kiss of understanding, a small peck of gratitude. She knew the truth of why that dream went up in smoke.

Vinnie made a face, scrunching up his nose as he tossed the ball into the air and caught it again. "That sucks."

Carmine laughed. "Yeah, I can think of quite a few words to describe exactly how much it sucked."

"But he's not going to say those words," Tess chimed in. "Is he?"

Carmine mock saluted her.

"So yeah," Dom said, grasping his son by the shoulder and squeezing. "That's the reason he's better than me at throwing, but there's a lot I'm better than your uncle at."

Carmine's brow furrowed, him and Vinnie speaking at the same time, saying the same damn thing. "Like what?"

Dom glared at both of them. "Like computers… and school. Your uncle was a terrible student. You should've seen his grades."

"So you're a nerd," Carmine said, waving him off. "Big deal."

Dom pointed at him. "It is a big deal."

Carmine looked away from his brother, instantly meeting Vinnie's curious eyes. Carmine held his gaze for a moment before turning his head and looking at his daughter, who always seemed to be watching him.

Ah, right. Kids.

He still sometimes forgot the little ones actually looked up to him.

Who ever thought he would be a role model?

God help these fucking DeMarco kids.

"Right," Carmine said, looking back at Dom. "Yeah, you're right. You got me there. That's important, you know… going to school and studying and getting good grades and reading and writing and algebra and graduating suma cuma ladi-dadi-da or whatever. That shit matters."

Tess groaned, but Carmine just shrugged.

Hell, he thought he did pretty good there.

"Anyway," Dom said loudly, rubbing his hands together as he looked around at all of them. "Time to get this party started. Who's ready?"

"Oh, me! Me! Me!" Maura yelled, forcing her parents apart as she ran between them, demanding her mother's attention. "Let's go!"

"Yes," Haven said, her voice tinged with just as excitement. "Let's go."

They all hurried out, as Carmine trailed behind, grabbing Maura's little orange pumpkin-shaped bucket and handing it off to Haven so he could lock up the house. Trick or Treat. It was Maura's first time going, which meant it was also Haven's first time, a fact that Dom seemed determined to take full advantage of.

"Come on, Twinkle Toes," Dom said, pushing his mask down over his face as he grabbed her arm, linking his with hers and pulling her toward him. "We're making good on that promise I made you years ago."

"What promise?" Haven asked, startled.

"The promise to take you trick or treating," Dom said. "Or well, what did you call them? Treatsters? Yeah, we're doing that."

"But, I thought… I mean…" She looked to Carmine, panicked, but he merely smiled as he grabbed Maura's hand. Realizing he wasn't going to interject, she turned to Tess, but Tess was already being dragged away by an enthusiastic Vinnie. "But I don't have a costume."

"You don't need one," Dom said. "Trust me."

Haven didn't look certain, but Carmine didn't have a chance to reassure her, because in the blink of an eye Dom was dragging her across the street while Maura took off in the opposite direction, staying on the sidewalk. Carmine ran after his daughter, shoving past people. He gave her freedom to move, let her dictate where they went, but he kept her at an arm's reach at all times. Dusk was approaching, and it would be dark soon, porch lights on at a few of the houses on Felton Drive, but Maura scampered right past them, too excited to be out there, surrounded by kids in costumes, to give a shit about actually getting candy.

"Look, Daddy!" she squealed. "It's a princess! Oh, it's a witch! Daddy, daddy… look! It's a ninja!"

Carmine tried to look at everything she pointed at, but she hardly gave him a chance to pause before she ran ahead some more.

"Uh, you know the point of this is to actually trick or treat, right? I did explain that shit to you, didn't I?"

She didn't respond, forcing her way past a slow group of people. Carmine squeezed around them, muttering "excuse me," and expected his daughter to keep running ahead when she abruptly turned, darting beside a black Mercedes in a driveway to approach a house.

Oh, no.

Fuck.

No.

"Maura, sweetheart, I don't think…" He darted after her, but she was too damn quick, too lithe, for him to stop. "I don't think this is a good a idea."

Maura ignored him, running up the front steps, straight to the dark wooden door of the house, the porch light very much unlit, the shades drawn. Someone was home, all right, but they sure as fuck has no intention of participating in the festivities.

"Why don't we go to the house next door," Carmine suggested, glancing over there. "They look like they're giving out full-size candy bars."

But no, of course they wouldn't go there.

That made too much sense.

He paused at the bottom of the front steps, shoving his hands in his pockets, as Maura reached up on her tiptoes and pressed the doorbell.

Again.

And again.

And again.

She assaulted the fucking thing, the chimes so loud Carmine could hear them where he stood. It was only about thirty seconds, that's it, before the door was yanked open, Corrado Moretti appearing.

He stood there, his expression hard, like chiseled from stone, his dark eyes fixed straight at Carmine, while Maura stood right in front of him, still pressing the goddamn doorbell.

His gaze shifted from Carmine's to Maura on his porch. "I think that's quite enough."

Maura stopped pressing the button and looked up at him, a smile lighting her face. None of the trepidation Carmine felt radiated from the girl. She didn't fear Corrado a bit. As far as she was concerned, the man was just family, his cold persona not putting her off at all.

"Tricky treat!" she declared.

Corrado blinked a few times, regarding her seriously. "Tricky treat?"

Carmine cleared his throat. "Trick or treat."

Corrado looked over at Carmine when he spoke, raising his eyebrows, before he looked back down at the girl. "Trick or treat?"

She nodded enthusiastically. "Tricky treat!"

Corrado just stared at the girl, his gaze so intense Carmine could see her start to fidget. Not from discomfort, no… from boredom. Neither of them seemed to know what to do. It was Maura's first time trick or treating, and Carmine had a sneaking suspicious his uncle had never done this before, either. Corrado just wanted the girl to go away, but all Maura knew was she was supposed to get something.

Carmine was about to interject, to suggest yet again to Maura they go elsewhere, when Corrado looked up again. There, in his eyes, Carmine saw something startling, something he had only ever seen from his uncle once before. Panic. The last time had left Carmine's world in shambles, but this? Oh, this was going to be fun…

Maura's boredom won out at that moment as she reached for the doorbell again, pressing the button. The chime rang out, garnering Corrado's attention. He turned back to her as Carmine smirked. He was going to enjoy this way too much.

Corrado reached for the girl's hand, gently grasping it and pulling it away from the doorbell before she could press it again.

"Trick or treat," he said again as he let go of her hand. "What are you supposed to be?"

"A princess."

He eyed her dirty, ripped dress, the only sign of costume she wore anymore. "What kind of princess?"

"A princess of pizza!"

Corrado's brow furrowed at her response.

"She means a principessa," Carmine said. "She's just a princess, with the dress, and uh… she had a tiara and whatever, but it went missing."

"It's never good when a princess loses her crown," Corrado said. "So I suppose you expect a treat, or was the incessant ringing of my doorbell you subjecting me to a trick in advance?"

Maura obviously had no idea what the hell he said to her and chose to just smile and nod, not waiting for an invitation inside. Before Corrado could respond, she slipped past him, walking on into his house on her own. Corrado watched her incredulously, before turning to Carmine as he stepped up onto the porch. The man said nothing, but his expression spoke volumes.

Carmine nodded at his uncle, restraining his amused smile, as he followed his daughter into the house. Corrado followed, shutting the front door behind them, and strode straight past as he headed for the kitchen. Maura eagerly trailed him as Carmine lingered in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe, his hands still in his pockets.

"Celia is at the grocery store right now, but we should have something around here," Corrado said, opening up a cabinet to look inside. "What sort of treat are you expecting?"

"Candy."

"I'm not sure we have candy."

"Why not?"

"Because we don't eat it," Corrado said, closing that cabinet and moving on to the next. He pushed some things aside, pulling out a can of fruit and setting it on the counter. "Peaches."

"That's not a treat!"

"They're sweet." Corrado looked at Maura, her expression no-nonsense, before he turned to his pantry. "Cheerios, then."

He pulled out the box of cereal, setting it on the counter beside the can of peaches, and glanced at Maura again. He didn't wait for her response. Her expression was a big fat hell no.

"Raisins," Corrado said, pulling out a small box of sun maid raisins and holding them out to Maura. "There you go."

She took the box from him and stared at it in horror.

It went on for a few minutes, the counter covered in shit Corrado dug out of the cabinets and found in the refrigerator: more fruit, vegetables, even a jug of orange juice. Maura just stared at him, no longer humoring him with a response, her nose perpetually scrunched with disgust, as the man grew more frazzled.

Giving up, Corrado reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. Carmine watched with shock as he opened it. "Twenty. Is twenty good?"

He pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and held it out to Maura, who eagerly dropped the box of raisins to snatch up the money. Relief seemed to pass across Corrado's face until the front door opened, Celia's voice shouting out. "Corrado, bellissimo, can you help me with these groceries?"

Maura perked up. Celia to the fucking rescue. She jetted out of the kitchen, still clutching the money. "Aunt Celia!"

Carmine turned his head toward the hall, watching as Celia gasped, dropping the bags of groceries to scoop Maura up in her arms. "Princess DeMarco! To what do we owe the honor of your visit?"

Maura beamed. "Tricky treat!"

"Ah!" Celia grinned, giving her the once over, gaze settling on her hand. "Money?" Celia turned to Corrado, eyebrows raised when he joined her in the hallway to grab some of the groceries. "You paid the girl off?"

"She wanted nothing we had."

Celia rolled her eyes, looking back at Maura, and smiled again. "Lucky for you, Miss Pretty in Pink, I just bought a ton of treats."

Celia carried Maura into the kitchen, setting her on the counter, as Carmine walked outside to help Corrado get the rest of the groceries. They carried them all into the kitchen and stood back as Celia fished through them, pulling out candy bars, and lollipops, and ice cream. Maura sat on the counter, eating a fudge pop, chocolate dripping down her chin, melting on her hands that she wiped on her dress. Celia put away the groceries, occasionally pulling out something she bought precisely for this reason, adding it to Maura's pile of makeshift treats.

The money lay on the counter beside her as she kicked her legs, untied Nikes banging against the cabinet beneath her. Her gaze kept flickering to Corrado, her expression curious. After a moment, she reached for the money, slowly slipping it beneath her dress, into the pocket of her pants, like she thought he might try to take it back from her.

Sneaky little girl.

"You remind me of someone."

Carmine's brow furrowed, his gaze going to Corrado when the man spoke. It took a minute for him to realize his uncle was talking to Maura. The girl kept eating her fudge pop. "Is it daddy? Mommy says I'm like daddy."

"No," Corrado said. "Not him."

"Grandma?" Maura asked. "Daddy says I have her name."

"No," Corrado said. "You remind me of your mother."

"Mommy?"

"Yes," Corrado said. "You remind me of her when she was a child."

Celia stopped what she was doing to look at him with surprise, but she said nothing, her gaze flickering to Carmine, a smile on her lips.

"Your mother wasn't afraid of me," Corrado continued. "She stared at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like that."

Corrado stared at her pointedly, while Maura continued to stare back. The girl shrugged after a moment, dropping it, as she finished her fudge pop just in time for Celia to pull her off the counter.

"Come on, your highness," Celia said, taking her sticky hand. "Let's get you cleaned up."

Those two walked out, leaving Carmine alone in the kitchen with Corrado. He glanced at his uncle, seeing the man was watching him, his expression serious. He looked as if he had something to say, and Carmine's insides coiled in anticipation, his stomach instinctively knotting. He'd seen sides of Corrado others hadn't ever seen, sides he wondered if Celia knew existed. His uncle was most terrifying when he grew serious, and Carmine was hard pressed to think of a time when a more serious expression was ever on his uncle's face. Carmine had witnessed him kill men and look more relaxed about it.

Corrado waited until they were gone, upstairs, out of earshot, before he pushed away from the counter he'd been leaning against to stroll over toward Carmine. The closer he got, the more tense Carmine grew. Corrado paused a few feet in front of him, staring at him, his mouth opening.

"Thank you."

Carmine anticipated a lot of things.

How dare you bring your kid to my house.

How dare you let her beg for candy.

How dare you let her take my fucking money.

He even wouldn't have been surprised by an "I'll kill you" for old time's sake.

But thank you?

Thank you?

What the fuck?

"I, uh… I didn't…" Carmine stammered, not knowing what the hell to say. If he didn't know his uncle so well, he might think that was sarcasm, but Corrado said something sarcastic even less than he fucking said 'thank you'. "You're welcome?"

Corrado's serious expression melted a bit, the corner of his lips twitching with the hint of a smile. "You don't even know why I'm thanking you."

"No," he admitted. "I'm just shocked I did anything to deserve some gratitude."

"You do a lot to deserve my gratitude."

Carmine stared at him with disbelief. "You're shitting me."

The smile withered away just as quickly as it started to appear. "Profanity aside, I have no problem with you, Carmine. Not anymore, anyway. You were a terrible soldato. One of the worst I've ever been unfortunate enough to come across. But you're a good nephew. You're a good man. I don't much care for holidays like this, but I can tell this meant a lot to Celia, you coming here, bringing your daughter… so thank you."

"You're welcome," Carmine said. "You might want to tone it down, though, you know… you keep up this whole family Kumbaya shit and I might start hitting you up for free babysitting."

Corrado laughed. He fucking laughed. Carmine could scarcely remember the last time he heard the man let out a laugh that wasn't bitter or scathing. Fuck, had it ever happened before?

"We used to babysit you and your brother," Corrado said. "Or, well… Celia babysat you. I've never been good with children."

"I don't know," Carmine said. "You just did pretty good with Maura. You might be better than you think. Maybe it's like a secret talent or something."

Corrado laughed. Again. "I have many talents, kid, but this isn't one of them."

"Is that why you never had children?"

"One of many reasons," Corrado said. "I never wanted to have to be responsible for anyone else... and yet, now I'm in charge of hundreds."

"Funny how that works."

"Yeah, but I thank God you're not one of them anymore. Like I said, terrible soldato." The smile returned to his lips yet again as he reached over, grasping Carmine's shoulder. "Even worse than your father, and I never thought that was possible."

Carmine was utterly speechless. He didn't have a chance to come up with some sort of response, as there was ruckus on the stairs then, ending the moment. Maura came running back in, still filthy, but her hands were at least washed and her shoes were again tied. Carmine glanced at his watch, realizing they'd been there for well over an hour already. "We should get going. The others are probably wondering what happened to us."

Celia walked in, immediately slipping into Corrado's arms. It never failed to surprise Carmine, how affectionate those two were in private. Corrado came off cold, sure, but he clearly worshipped his wife, pulling her close, his arm protectively around her. Carmine's memories of his own parents were vague, dimming over time, every year taking away a little more of them. All he had were flashes of images, hazy snapshots of the two of them together in his head. It was fucked up, he thought, how time slowly erased the memories filled with love but didn't do a goddamn thing to take away the visions of bloodshed. He liked to think his parents had been like that, though. And it was the kind of husband he hoped to be, the kind that always showed his wife how much she meant to him.

"Well, thanks for the, uh..." Carmine picked the plastic bag up from the counter. Christ, it was heavy. He held it up and shook his head. "The groceries, I guess."

"Tricky treat!" Maura yelled, running over and wrapping her arms around Celia's legs, grasping ahold of Corrado's pants behind her, hugging both at the same time. Carmine smiled, watching his daughter, and took her hand once she pulled away.

"Bye, Aunt Celia," Carmine said, his daughter echoing him right away. He glanced at his uncle, tipping his head. "Corrado."

"Carmine."

They headed out, to where the crowds had thinned, a lot of people already done for the night. Maura kept a hold of his hand this time, since it was dark now, but she still led the way, pulling him past slow moving groups. She once again bypassed all the houses with their porch lights on, heading straight for home, clearly not giving a shit. As far as Maura was concerned, they went trick or treating and she was done with it.

Carmine let go of her hand when they reached the front porch, and Maura ran up, waiting for him to open the door. He tried the knob, and it turned smoothly, the door already unlocked. He pushed it open, and Maura ran inside, screeching excitedly, while Carmine followed. He stepped in behind her, barely making it into the foyer, not even getting the front door closed, when something jabbed him in the chest, the force sending him back a step. Brow furrowed, a surge of anger rushed through him as he clutched his chest and glanced to the side, seeing his brother.

His brother, standing near the bottom step, holding a sword and grinning as he waved it around in the air like a samurai.

A goddamn sword.

"Who the fuck gave Dominic a sword?" Carmine yelled as he slammed the door and headed for the kitchen, finding the rest of them gathered around the kitchen table, candy spread out over every inch of it.

Tess shook her head. "Wasn't me."

"He found it," Haven said, glancing up and smiling, Dom's clown mask now perched on her head, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "One second he didn't have it and the next second, well…"

Carmine felt the sword poking into his back, his brother standing behind him, jabbing him in the spine as he laughed. Carmine shook his head and stepped further into the kitchen, setting the bag on the counter. "You stole it, didn't you? Stole it from a damn kid."

Dom just laughed.

"Mommy, I tricky treat!" Maura exclaimed, climbing up on Haven's lap in the chair at the table. Haven wrapped her arms around her, hugging her, and pressed a kiss to her hair as the little girl reached for some candy, snatching up somebody's pumpkin-shaped lollipop.

"Did you have fun?" Haven asked.

Maura nodded, tearing the wrapper off and plunging it in her mouth.

"Did you get a lot of treats?"

Maura nodded again. "I got ice cream and monies!"

Haven's brow furrowed. "Money?"

Maura reached into her pocket, whipping out the filthy twenty-dollar bill and tossing it on the table.

Haven stared at the crumpled bill, eyes wide. "You didn't get candy?"

"They not have candy," Maura said.

"What? Where did you go?"

"Aunt Celia's!"

Haven looked at Carmine with surprise, noticing the bag on the counter beside him. "You took her to the Moretti's trick or treating?"

"I didn't take her there," Carmine said, unloading the bag. Fucking fudge pops and cans of fruit and even the goddamn box of cheerios. "She went there all on her own."

"And she got money?" Haven asked. "They gave her money?"

"Corrado did," Carmine said. "She didn't like anything else he offered, but she was more than happy to take his cash."

Dom laughed, reaching over and holding his hand up for a high-five from Maura. She smacked his palm, hard, having no idea what the hell she did right, but the praise excited her anyway.

"Just for that," Dom said, "you deserve the sword this Halloween."

He held it out, and Maura grabbed it before any of them could object, jumping down off her mother's lap. She bolted toward the doorway, already swinging it, lollipop still in her mouth.

"Don't run with the sucker in your mouth!" Haven yelled. "You fall, you'll choke on it!"

Maura didn't miss a beat, spitting the fucking lollipop out, right on the kitchen floor as she continued to run, smacking the doorway with the sword as she shrieked, disappearing toward the living room.

"Fucking three-year olds," Carmine muttered, picking up the lollipop and tossing it in the trash less than five feet away. "They're assholes, I swear."

Dom stepped over, plopping down in the spot Maura had just vacated, right on Haven's lap. Haven laughed, leaning her head against his back, her eyes shifting back to Carmine as he leaned against the counter. She smiled softly, and he returned her smile, no words necessary to convey a message. She was happy, and that was all that mattered to Carmine.

"Halloween is the best holiday there is," Dom said, picking up a small peanut butter cup and tearing off the wrapper, balling up the foil in his hand as he popped the candy in his mouth. "None others come close."

"How do you figure?" Tess asked.

"Because, for one, it's pretty much the only holiday where you're not obligated to visit family," Dom said. "I mean, we do, mostly because I like you guys some days, but you don't have to. Secondly, you don't have to buy anyone presents. There's no gift giving, and let's be real… gift-giving is only cool when you're the receiver. C, because it's completely acceptable to go into public dressed like a fool." He motioned toward Carmine. "Proof."

Carmine made sure Vinnie wasn't looking before flashing his middle finger at his brother, mouthing 'fuck you'. Dom laughed, flicking the foil wrapper at him, hitting him in the chest.

"And fourthly," Dom continued, "people give you candy for no reason. And D, because there are swords. Everywhere you look, swords. What's not to love about Halloween?"

The women laughed, as did Vinnie, while Carmine just stared at his brother. "You know that should've been E, right? Not D."

Dom waved him off, picking up another piece of candy.

"Technically," Haven said, pushing on Dom to get him off her lap. He rose up, letting her slip out from beneath him, before he commandeered her chair. "He started with firstly so it should've been fifthly."

"You heard the woman," Carmine said, just as there was a loud crash in the living room, followed by an exaggerated 'uh-oh'. Haven sighed, heading out of the kitchen to investigate, while Carmine pointed at his brother. "Whatever that was, you're paying for it."

Dom picked up the twenty from the table, holding it up. "Pretty sure that'll cover it, bro. If not, put it on my account."

"What account?"

"On the account that I ain't got no money to give you right now."

An end table, it turned out. She knocked the lamp right off the motherfucker, taking some picture frames with it. Haven carried Maura into the kitchen, the girl still wielding the sword.

"Say goodnight," Haven said.

"Night!" Maura yelled.

Dom jumped up. "I'll trade you some sugar for the sword."

Maura debated it for a moment before holding the sword out to him. Dom took it, tossing it to Vinnie, before grasping both of Maura's cheeks with his palms, holding her face there so he could smother her in kisses. She giggled, loudly, the sound warming Carmine's heart.

Haven took Maura upstairs for a bath while the others got their stuff together to leave. Carmine walked them out, pausing on the porch with his brother, while Tess got Vinnie buckled into the car.

"Good to see you, bro," Dom said seriously, reaching over and smacking him on the back. "Probably won't see you before, but I'll see you Thanksgiving at Celia's, right?"

"Of course," Carmine said. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Better not," Dom said. "Corrado would probably come down here and drag you to his house if you tried."

Dom walked away, getting into his car, as Carmine turned around and headed back inside. He locked up the house, going straight upstairs, making his way down the hall toward his daughter's bedroom. Maura was already out of the bath and had her pajamas on, climbing into her bed. She looked over toward the doorway, spotting Carmine, and grinned.

"Story, Daddy!"

Carmine sighed, pushing away from the doorframe and strolling over. "What story?"

"The princess story!"

"Again?"

"Again!"

Carmine had told her this story so many times he was shocked she wasn't sick of fucking hearing it. Haven kissed Maura's forehead before walking out of the room, leaving the two of them alone. Carmine kicked off his shoes, climbing into the bed beside her, laying on his side to give her most of the space, as she snuggled into his arms. She smelled like soap with a hint of something else, something fresh and calming and beautiful. Sunshine.

The girl was sunshine.

'She got that from you,' Haven always said.

"Once upon a time, a long time ago, there was a princess…"

"A pretty princess, Daddy?"

"A beautiful princess," he said. "The most beautiful princess I've ever seen."

"Beautifuler than Mommy?"

Carmine ran his hand through her wayward hair, pushing it back off her forehead. "Just as beautiful as Mommy."

Maura nodded, satisfied.

"So there was a beautiful princess, a special princess, but nobody knew she existed, because some monsters kept her locked away. They didn't want the rest of the world to know about her… they wanted to keep her all to themselves. And they did, for a lot of years. The beautiful princess grew up alone, and sad, wishing she could be a part of the world outside of her dungeon, but they never let her even get close to escape."

"Until the angel, right, Daddy?"

"Until the angel," he agreed. "The angel was beautiful, too, the most beautiful angel to ever exist. She saw the princess, and she knew she had to save her from the monsters. And so she did. The angel risked it all to free the princess from captivity, and in the process she became a real angel."

"Like grandma?"

"Just like grandma."

Maura smiled. She asked the same questions every time, and Carmine couldn't help but wonder if she'd figured out this story was true, but she never pressed the matter, and he hadn't admitted it. She was young, but she was a smart child, much too smart for her age.

"So the princess was saved from the monsters, but she wasn't free yet, because there were more monsters out there, more monsters who didn't want the princess to be free. They were afraid she would claim her crown, that she would bring an end to their reign, so they tried to take her, tried to imprison her again."

"But it didn't work?"

"No, it didn't, because they'd underestimated the brave knight who had sworn himself to be her savior. He slayed the monsters, saving the princess once and for all, freeing her and letting her take her rightful place as princess, where she lived happily ever after."

Maura stared at him for a moment. "Daddy, are you the knight?"

Carmine was surprised by that question. She hadn't asked that one before. The story always ended here, and she was always content with that. "Uh, no."

"What happened to the knight?"

"He was awarded for his bravery by getting to spend eternity with the angel."

"Did the princess get a prince?"

"Yeah, she did, and he was the luckiest prince to ever exist."

Carmine kissed her forehead before climbing to his feet, grabbing his shoes as he headed for the door. He paused, his hand on the light switch, when she spoke again.

"Daddy, are you the prince?"

He laughed, looking back at her. "Do I look like a prince to you?"

She stared at him, hard, like she was genuinely considering his question, eyes studying every inch of him looking for signs of royalty. "I dunno."

He laughed, turning off the light, the automatic heart-shaped nightlight kicking on in the darkness. "Goodnight, piccola. I love you."

"Night, Daddy. Love you."

The day she was born, Carmine fell in love for the second time. He never thought he'd ever love someone as much as he loved Haven, that all-consuming, soul-gripping, fuck-you-up kind of love that leaves you breathless and weak in the knees, that squeezes your fucking heart and takes over your chest. The kind of love that alters you, changes the person you are, making someone who once thought they were hopeless feel like they're worth a million fucking bucks. Carmine thought that feeling was once-in-a-lifetime, never expecting it to hit him twice. She colpo di fulmine'ed his ass.

He'd been terrified to hold Maura for the first time, afraid he'd drop her or hurt her, but the second she was in his arms he knew he'd never be able to let go.

Carmine walked out, strolling down the hall, hesitating near the doorway when he stepped inside his bedroom. Haven was changing out of her clothes, the glow from the moonlight illuminating her creamy, bare skin. She was beautiful, he hadn't lied about that—the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. And he was a lucky motherfucker to have her. He hadn't lied about that, either.

She'd changed some over time, ageing and maturing, but she wore it well. Her hips were wider, body softer, stretch marks joining the scars that still marred her pale skin. Every inch of her told a story, a story Carmine knew intimately, a story he never wanted to forget. It was her story—their story—a story of love and loss, regret and redemption.

Carmine liked to think of it as the greatest story ever told. Sure, he might be biased, but fuck… he thought it was perfect. Even when it got ugly, Haven made it beautiful.

Stepping further into the room, he reached for her before she could put on a shirt, swinging her toward him, wearing only a pair of simple black cotton underwear. She smiled, blush on her cheeks, as his hands settled on her hips. She reached behind her, grabbing something from the bedside stand and plopping it on his head.

The fucking missing tiara.

Haven laughed, leaning toward him, pressing a light kiss to his lips. "Principe. Have you come to rescue your Principessa?"

He rolled his eyes, reaching up and grabbing the tiara, instead putting it on top of her head. "I've come to worship her… and come. I've come to come."

"Is that right?"

"It is."

He kissed her, dragging her toward the bed, sitting down on it and pulling her on top of him. He lay back, fully clothed, as she straddled his lap, his hands running up her bare stomach, fingertips tracing the marks before he palmed her breasts. He massaged them, thumbs grazing her nipples as they pebbled from his touch.

"So beautiful, tesoro," he whispered, his chest aching at the words.

She leaned down, kissing him, as his arms encircled her, hands gently running up and down her back, tracing the curvature of her spine. His left hand settled on her ass as his right gripped the back of her head. He held her there, deepening the kiss, as he shifted his hips, pushing against her. Even through his clothes, he could feel her warmth, his body yearning for more of it. His cock throbbed, desperate to bury itself deep inside of her.

"We shouldn't," Haven whispered. "Maura isn't asleep yet. She might hear."

"We can be quiet."

"You, maybe," she said, her blush deepening. "You make it hard for me."

"Yeah, well, you make it hard for me, literally."

Haven laughed, kissing him again, as she started fumbling with his clothes. Carmine loosened his hold on her, letting her slip off of him so he could strip, as she pulled her underwear off. Carmine grabbed the comforter, pulling it the whole way up on them, covering their bodies, as he climbed on top of her, settling between her thighs.

"Should we…?" Haven asked, hesitating as she glanced around the room.

"I already said we should," Carmine mumbled, kissing her throat. "I'll take it easy on you so she doesn't hear us."

"No, I mean… should we use, you know…?"

Carmine pulled back to look at her just as she bit down on her bottom lips nervously, cheeks bright pink, the flush extending down her neck. Countless times together and even a baby later, this shit still made her blush. "Use what?"

"A condom," she said. "You know I'm not on anything right now and you've been, well… you've just been using them so I haven't bothered…"

"Ah, nah," he said. "What's the worse that can happen?"

"A baby."

Carmine kissed her neck again. The last baby they had worked out wonderfully. He wouldn't mind another.

"Maybe even twins."

He hesitated a moment before slowly sliding inside of her, letting out a deep sigh at the sensation. Fucking heavenly.

"Or triplets, even."

Just as fast as he'd pushed inside of her, he pulled right back out. He sat up, reaching over toward the bedside stand, yanking the drawer open to dig around inside of it, fishing out a condom. He ripped the wrapper with his teeth, tossing it aside as he rolled the condom on. Haven laughed, watching him, as he pulled the blanket back over them, once more pushing inside of her.

"I love you, Haven, I do," he said. "But I'm not ready for you to pop out half a dozen kids."

Carmine thrust as deep as the position let him, taking it slow so not to slam the headboard into the wall. He savored every second, tingles radiating across his skin from where they were connected. His lips smashed against hers, swallowing her cries of pleasure. It felt so good... so fucking good... that he could hardly rein himself in. Her hands laced through his hair, gripping the chaotic locks, tugging just enough to make him feel it.

He was getting close, could feel his orgasm brewing. Reaching between them, he stroked Haven's clit.

"Come for me, tesoro," he whispered, his voice gritty from need. "I want to feel it. I want to make that pussy feel good."

She shivered, her eyes closing as she gripped onto him tighter. He could tell she was close, her body tense, back arching beneath him. He rubbed harder, thrust deeper, feeling it as she started to convulse. She cried out his name, the sound washing through him, wiping away all of his restraint. The pressure let loose, and he grunted into her neck as he came hard.

"Fuck," he ground out. "So fucking good."

When the pleasure started to fade, he stilled his movements, still inside of her. He started to speak, to say something, but the words were stolen right away.

There was a tap on the door, soft and quiet, but Carmine caught it. Carmine heard it.

Guard up.

Erection down.

Fuck.

"Daddy?" the quiet voice called out. "Is you sleeping?"

Haven rubbed Carmine's back gently as he sighed. "What do you need, piccola?"

"Can I have another story?"

Shaking his head, he pulled away from Haven and climbed out of bed. He tossed the condom in the trashcan as Haven jumped up, quickly pulling on some clothes. She headed for the door, opening it just enough to slip out, making sure Maura couldn't look in.

"How about I tell you a story?" Haven suggested.

"Do you know the princess story, too?"

"Of course, but I was thinking about a different part of the story," Haven said, closing the bedroom door. Before she walked away, Carmine heard her finish. "Has Daddy ever told you about how the princess found forever with her prince?"