“Necessary,” I fired back.
“Pain has a way of wrecking us from the inside out, Val. Physical pain is nothing. Damn, shoot my leg, slice my throat, but when it comes to loss?” He shook his head. “I remember when I thought I lost Tracey to Chase.”
“Lost?” I stepped back. “What do you mean lost?”
“The point is.” He avoided my question. “Emotional pain scars but never truly heals. It’s like a scab that refuses to stop bleeding. You think you’re fine, until you bump into something and the bleeding continues. It’s confusing as hell, and it hurts. I’m not saying to give it time, but know that I know my cousin.” He looked out at the road. “He’s not fighting you. He’s fighting himself. If he didn’t like you, if he didn’t care for you, he’d keep you close.”
“Well that’s… confusing.”
“If I were him,” Nixon said as he opened the door and led me inside. “I think I’d be stuck in a place where I was forced to lay my past to rest in order to accept my future, and because guys are idiots, he probably thinks he has to release the only woman he’s ever loved, in order to accept one he isn’t even sure likes him. Tell me, would you take that risk?”
“No,” I mumbled hoarsely. “I don’t think I would. Because I’m not a sure thing.”
“Love is never a sure thing.” Nixon hugged me again. “All right, enough sadness, go open your presents. Chase made lasagna.”
And that was it.
Nobody talked about Sergio.
And there was laughter.
Mainly because Tex bought me a pink gun and a teddy bear that said killer. I’d confessed I was lonely at night.
“You need children.” Chase tossed a chip at Tex’s face. “And soon, I mean pink guns? Teddy bears? Isn’t that a sign?”
“Maybe for you.” Tex glared.
A loud knock at the door interrupted the conversation.
I was out of my chair before anyone could say anything, running toward the door as though my life depended on it.
When it swung open, I burst into tears.
Dante had two suitcases in his hands and a smile on his face. “Happy birthday, sis.”
I launched myself into his arms and kissed his face. “I missed you.”
“Clearly.” He chuckled wrapping his bulky arms around me and squeezing me tight. “God must love me because I smell lasagna, and I’m starving.” He set me down and made a beeline for the kitchen. Maybe that was just part of being a guy? If there was food, you knew where it was. Period.
I smiled and walked after him.
The minute he entered the kitchen, the girls eyes widened. I went to grab a plate from the table while Bee started choking.
“Are you okay?” I asked concerned.
“Holy shit,” Mo said under her breath. “Is he for real?”
“Who?” I frowned then looked at Dante. “My brother?”
Trace and Mil had huge grins on their faces.
Mil shook her head. “No wonder Joyce had an affair. No offense Trace, but I second Mo, holy ever loving shit, he’s hot.”
“I’m right here.” Chase raised his hand. “Sitting right next to you.”
Mil swatted his hand away and kept staring while Bee took a large sip of water and cleared her throat. “I almost choked to death. You should warn people, Val!”
I burst out laughing. “Um, he’s my brother.”
“But not my brother,” Mo joked while Tex flashed her a glare.
Dante was in deep discussion with Phoenix, I tried to see him through their eyes. He was tall, just like the other guys, and had a similar body type to Nixon and Chase. Bulky, but lean at the same time. His biceps were clean of tattoos though.
He had baby skin.
Geez, and they were all still staring at him like he was a stripper!
He laughed out loud, his crystal blue eyes twinkling as he ran his fingers over his buzzed jet-black hair, his shirt lifted, just slightly, showing an amazing set of abs. Gross.
One of the girls, I didn’t know which, sighed, while another cursed.
So, he looked like a model. It wasn’t like they were married to hunchbacks, I could make a killing off of a mafia-themed calendar.
“Where’s Sergio?” Dante asked the room, while Phoenix elbowed him and slowly shook his head.
But Dante, being Dante, wouldn’t drop it.
“Val.” His nostrils flared. “Where the hell is he?”
Trace started fanning herself while Mo poured wine and leaned forward.
“I punched him then asked him to leave,” I said in a quiet voice. “How many helpings did you want? Of Lasagna?”
“I’m going to kill him,” he hissed.
“I’ll help!” Tex said in a cheerful voice.
“Put your hand down.” Nixon sighed sounding bored. “Nobody’s killing Sergio.”
“Clearly he needs to be killed if he made my baby sister punch him. She’s the least violent person I know!”
That was true.
I winced. “Well, to be fair, I’ve been taking lessons from the girls so…”
His eyebrows shot up. “Lessons?”
“Baking.” I nodded. “Shooting. Fighting.”
Dante cursed. “You’re twenty.”