“This thing, as you call it, will never be over, Vega. Ever. The paperwork and procedures will end. The whispers and rumors will die down. But taking a man’s life? That’s always going to be a part of who you are from this moment forward. You think it’s not a part of me? It’s been two decades and it’s still a part of me. Every single day. That’s why I gave you that therapist’s name. Don’t you get it? You’re different now. You’re going to have to find a way to live with that. And if you think you can do it alone, then God help you, buddy.”
Greco’s words pierced something inside of Vega. He’d been holding himself together until now, trying to sooth himself with the notion that if he could just hang on, this nightmare would have a back end to it. And now suddenly, here was Greco telling him that there was no back end—not now. Not ever. He could never wash the stain from his skin. It was his skin now. And he’d wear it until the day he died.
Vega felt tears gather in his eyes, the salt stinging his swollen flesh. His nasal passages loosened. His lungs shuddered of their own accord. He turned to the passenger side window and wiped the sleeve of his jacket across his eyes. Co?o! Of all the people to break down in front of, it had to be Louis Greco.
Greco kept his eyes on the windshield and his hands on the wheel. His voice spilled out of the darkness, deep and gruff but strangely soothing. “It’s gonna be different, Vega. But that doesn’t mean it’s not gonna be okay. Call Dr. Cantor, will ya? I swear, she won’t be as bad as you think.”
They were both silent after that. Greco pulled into Adele’s driveway. Her porch lights were on. The colored lights on her Christmas tree glowed softly through the sheer curtains in her front window. She and Sophia had managed to buy a tree, lug it home, and put it up. Without him. Life went on.
Vega stared at his swollen knuckles. Every part of him felt broken. “What if—what if we can’t make things right between us?”
“Then shouldn’t you find that out?”
Adele opened the front door and stood in the doorway, her hand on Diablo’s collar, the two of them backlit by a soft honeyed light. Vega saw the shimmery blue dress he’d always loved on her. She’d been out tonight. Without him. He sank down in his seat, afraid to move, afraid that every single thing he did and said to her from this moment forward would be their last.
Greco waved a hand like he was brushing crumbs off the seat.
“Go.”
Chapter 21
Even under the sodium haze of streetlight, Adele could see that Vega had gotten the worst of the fight. His left cheek and eye were swollen and bruised. He was holding his right hand at a funny angle. She was so shocked by his appearance that she accidentally let go of Diablo’s collar. The dog bounded down the porch steps and jumped up on him, trying to lick his face.
“Down, Diablo!” shouted Adele.
Vega gave Diablo a scratch behind his ears. “Well, I’ve got one fan at least.” He tried to smile. It looked like it hurt.
She opened the door wider and stood shivering in her stocking feet. She hadn’t even removed her blue dress from this evening. Her heart felt like it was doing a rumba in her chest.
Vega planted a work boot on the bottom porch step and stood there with his hands in the pockets of his jacket. There was a tear in the sleeve and the gray lining poked through like a wound in need of stitches.
“Are you going to come in?” she asked. “Or are we going to stand here freezing like this all night?”
Vega trudged up her front porch steps and into the foyer. Diablo raced ahead like he owned the place, which Adele supposed he sort of did given how his hair covered every surface in the house.
Adele closed the front door behind Vega. A chill lingered in the air. He did not unzip his jacket.
“Let me get you an ice pack for your face and some aspirin and—”
“Stop.” Vega put his hands firmly on her shoulders and turned her to look at him. “The kindest thing you could do for both of us right now is to call me a cab so I can get back to my truck.”
“The police said you needed to be here tonight.”
“I don’t care what they said. I don’t want to put this on you. Last night I couldn’t think straight. Tonight I can.”
“This?” She gestured to his ripped jacket and swollen face. “This is thinking straight? Getting into fistfights? Pushing everyone who loves you away? You’re behaving like an idiot.”
“I’m trying to spare you.”
“You’re trying to self-destruct. That’s what you’re trying to do,” said Adele. “You want to get yourself good and hurt on the outside to match the hurt within. Make yourself so unlovable that everyone who cares about you just tosses up their hands and walks away.”
“You want to psychoanalyze me? Go ahead. Everyone else does!” Diablo ran out of the front foyer and up the stairs. Vega was too caught up in the argument to notice. “As far as Ruben Tate-Rivera and all your freakin’ rights groups friends are concerned, I’m an executioner!”
“You’re not helping matters when you refuse to defend your actions.”
“Ay, pu?eta, here it comes!” Vega threw up his hands. “You will never forgive me for what happened. Ever. It doesn’t matter what I say.”
“But you don’t. What do you expect me to think?”
“I did my job!”