by MK Schiller
“You remember that?”
“I remember everything about that night, Sylvie.” I didn’t want to tell her the events haunted all my nightmares, the images seared into my skull.
“Not them, but others like them. My father worked for the Vincetti family. I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone the truth. The cancer was a lie concocted by the US Marshals. They trained us on what to say.” She turned to me, fresh tears forming at the corner of her eyes. I wiped them before they could fall. “My mother forced my dad to quit. There was only one way to get out. He started collecting evidence and went to the Feds. They agreed to put us in witness protection if he became their inside man, but by then, someone in the family suspected. They showed up to our house. My father wasn’t home. My mother hid me in the trap door on the floor. I could see through a vent into the living room. Edward Vincetti Senior kept asking her where my father was, but she refused to tell him. I think she knew they were going to kill her and she wanted me to have one parent. They shot my mother, execution style. I stood there like a statue as she bled to death right above me. They looked, but they didn’t find me.”
“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” I’d known her past held dark secrets, but my imagination could not have conjured something that tragic.
“My father and I relocated to Prairie courtesy of the FBI. It was the last place either of us wanted to go, especially Dad. I wish you could have known him, Cal.”
“I did know him.”
“I mean the way he was before…before my mother died. I think you would have liked him back then. I liked him back then. He was a good man once.”
My jaw clenched. “He was a criminal. He put you in danger. Then he didn’t care for you. I remember how he was and how he wasn’t.” I tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry you lost him that night, though.”
“You have to understand things from his perspective. When he first started, he didn’t even know he was working for the Mob. He thought they were a legit organization until Edward Vincetti wanted him to start doing some illegal activities. My mother and I never knew…until much later. He never laid a hand on me, Cal.”
“Neglect is a form of abuse, but I won’t talk ill of the deceased anymore, especially not someone you loved.”
“He always blamed himself for what happened to my mother.”
“How did they find you?”
“It was just a matter of time. The family had been searching for my dad, but it wasn’t like a normal hit. At least, I don’t think so. They usually send people to do that—professionals, so they don’t get their hands dirty. They didn’t. It was Edward Vincetti’s son, Eddie Junior, and his cousin who came personally. Eddie was our age.”
“You mean that son of a bitch who shot you was only seventeen?”
“He didn’t shoot me. His cousin did. Eddie shot you.”
It occurred to me my perspective on the events was somewhat cloudy since I’d suffered a concussion and bullet hole to the leg that night. “Are you still in danger?”
“I’m not sure.”
“How can you not know?”
“I don’t fear the Vincetti family per se. My father testified against Edward Vincetti, and his meticulous records sent the man to jail for a long time along with most of the key people in his organization. He died in prison of a heart attack a few years ago. Over the years, their business and connections disintegrated. The Vincetti Mob isn’t what it used to be. Most of the family is either in jail, dead, or powerless. Besides, the vendetta would have been against my father, and he’s dead. There is no reason to seek revenge against me. They never go after the children. It’s not their MO.”
“What aren’t you telling me?”
She wiped some invisible crumbs off my coffee table. “Eddie’s cousin was found dead a few months later in the Gulf of Mexico, not far from Prairie.” She swallowed. “Someone slashed his throat. Forensics suggests he died the same night Eddie came to Prairie.”
I gawked at her. How had I not known this? “I thought they were never found.”
“The Feds covered up the story to avoid questions. Eddie killed his own cousin.”
“Why would he do that?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe because the man shot me, and that wasn’t Eddie’s plan.” She took my hand again. She tilted the bottle to her glass. Only a drop came out. “Have any more?”
“Yeah, I do.” I headed to the kitchen to fetch another bottle.
She paced around my apartment while I refilled our glasses.
I handed her a wine glass. “Whenever you’re ready, Sylvie.”
“Eddie and I used to play together. I guess we were friends. My father liked that because it helped him move up the ranks of the organization. But Eddie wasn’t a normal kid. He did strange things.”
“Tell me what he did to you.”
“It’s not important.”
“Everything is important.”
She finished her drink and sat on the couch again. “He was my monster, Cal.”
“He bit you, didn’t he? You had a bite mark the day I met you, and one the day…” I put my head down, unable to say the words.
“The day I died,” she finished for me. “We played make believe vampires the way some kids played house. He liked to draw blood. He said it was normal. There were other things, too.”
“Like what?”
“I think he killed my cat, Snowball.”
“What?”
“I don’t have any proof, but he was always so rough with her. One day, she went missing. I looked for her every day for weeks. Then I found her behind my house with her head snapped.” Sylvie’s voice cracked.
I put my arm around her, hoping she wouldn’t push me away. She didn’t. She rested her head against my chest.
“Did you tell anyone?” I asked.
“No. Looking back, that was really dumb. But I was so scared of him. He used to tell me if I made him mad his dad would kill my dad. So, I never told. I buried my cat in a shoebox in the backyard. My parents assumed she ran away. But my mom noticed the bite marks on my back. She figured out what Eddie was doing to me. That’s when she made my dad confront Edward Vincetti Senior.”
“Did he?”
“He tried, but it wasn’t so easy. Not only was Vincetti my father’s boss, he was a mob boss. Imagine telling a guy like that his son’s a psychopath. Edward Senior made excuses for Eddie, saying it was just kids playing rough, and my parents were taking it too seriously.”
“So, what happened?”
“More of the same. Eddie kept wanting us to play. My mother always said no, but he was sneaky. He’d find ways to get me alone. It was almost like he was infatuated with me. My mother gave my father an ultimatum. Either he got us out or we’d leave him.”
“Eddie was psychotic.”
“I think so, too. That’s why he came himself to finish the job. They would never have sent him.”
“He wanted to take you. He whispered something in your ear. Do you remember what he said?”
She didn’t say anything for so long I wondered if she’d heard my question. When she did speak, her voice cracked with fear. “I’ll come back for you, Gabby.”
My fists clenched. I struggled not to pummel them into the nearest wall. But the last thing I wanted was to give in to my rage. This wasn’t about what I needed. I had to be patient and rational for her. “He’s not getting anywhere near you. If I had known, I would have always carried my Remington with me, and I never would have let you out of my sight.”
She shook her head. “That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you. I was already putting you in danger. Not just you, but your whole family. When your father died, I was so worried it had something to do with me.”
I straightened up. She rested her hand on my arm. It calmed me. “Don’t worry, the US Marshall assigned to our case verified it was random. Your dad’s death acted as a wakeup call, though. I never wanted to be the reason for your pain. I tried to distance myself aft
er that. I told myself I’d be there for you when you needed it and stay away the rest of the time. But I couldn’t do it. You see, I needed you too much and I was selfish.”
“There’s nothing selfish about you, girl. Not a damn thing. Is this why you never went out with me?”
“Partially, but also because you were the most popular boy at school, and we were instructed to keep a low profile. I didn’t think dating you would be wise.”
“Damn, girl, you know how rejected I felt?”
“Yes, I had an idea. Keeping you at arm’s length was harder on me.”
“How would it be harder on you?”
She arched her brow. “Funny, I thought we had this connection. I wanted nothing more than to let all those girls who constantly vied for your attention know you belonged to me. Do you have any idea how hard it is for a teenage girl to keep her jealousy under wraps?”
“I wouldn’t have chosen that…ever. I would have given my life for you.”
She caressed my hand and then brought it to her lips, kissing it. “You almost did, remember? I knew when it came to me, you would give up anything. That’s why I chose for you. It was, and still is, the hardest decision I ever made.”
“Were you packing that night I came to talk to you at your house?”
“Yes, we were leaving.”
“You weren’t going to tell me? You were just going to up and leave me?”
“Not at first, but I was going to spill the whole sordid story when you came to the dock that night. I couldn’t keep it locked inside anymore. But I was so scared to tell you. I was afraid you’d start hating me.”
I couldn’t take it anymore. I pulled her onto my lap. I embraced her, feeling her beating heart against mine. “I would never hate you. How could you even think that?”
“My father changed a lot after what happened to my mother. I didn’t want things between us to change. I think he hated me, Cal. It’s pretty fucked up I’m even making a comparison, but I’ve seen people change overnight.”
I tilted her chin toward me. “Not me. Not when it comes to you.”
“I know.”
This couldn’t be real, but as outlandish as it was—mob bosses, psychotic children, witness protection—it all resonated as true. It seemed like a work of great fiction, but I knew Sylvie was baring her soul to me. She started crying, and I pulled her toward me.
She swung her legs around and hugged me. “I’ve never told anyone all of it.”
“I can’t believe you went through all this…alone. You carried around all that hurt for all those years.”
“I didn’t feel alone. Not while I was with you.”
“You never even went to therapy?”
“No, I’m not really supposed to divulge the details to anyone, but talking about it actually feels good. I can see why therapy is helpful.”
Her life had been one tragedy after another. The whole time she remained strong. If our positions were reversed, I would not have been able to do the same.
“Therapy can be helpful,” I said.
She braced her hands against my chest and looked at me. “Are you speaking from experience?”
“I’ve had my fill of it. It didn’t always do much for me, though, since no one believed what I was trying to say.”
“I’m so sorry I put you through that, too. I thought I was making it better.”
“How would loosing you make it better?
“I woke up in the hospital after a six-hour surgery. They removed the bullet. I kept asking about you, but they wouldn’t tell me anything. Then I was told you survived. We both did, but I had to start over. Ironically, my death was the perfect way for me to go on living. I could get a new identity, and no one would ask questions. I refused. I almost ran away so I could get to you.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I realized it was a way for you to move on, too. I’d already put you in danger. I wasn’t going to take any more risks. If you thought I was dead, we could both move on.”
“It didn’t work.”
“It didn’t work for either of us. I’m so sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about, Sylvie. Where did you go, sweetheart? Who took care of you after?”
“I lived with a foster family in North Dakota. My foster dad was a local police officer. He knew the truth. They were very nice people. When I turned eighteen, though, I decided to leave. I didn’t want any ties. I enrolled in college at UCLA. My father had some money saved, plus witness protection gave me money, too.”
She left everyone who cared for her to protect them. A slow panic rose inside of me. “I understand why you did what you did. I just wish you had given me some choices in these decisions you made.”
“We were young, Cal. You were so protective of me. You’d only get yourself hurt. In fact, you did, and that’s my fault, too.”
“You didn’t do that to me.”
She swallowed. “Let’s not kid ourselves. You were an amazing quarterback, the kind they give full-ride scholarships to. You’d probably be playing for a pro team right now if you hadn’t come looking for me that night. If you’d never met me, you would have been better off. You were destined for great things. I changed your trajectory.” She lowered her head.
I tilted her chin so we were at eye level. “Don’t ever say that again. You didn’t shoot me. None of that is your fault, and I have never once been angry with you about that. You gave me a reason to pray, and not just think of myself anymore. You helped me through my worst days and made my best days even brighter. You made me a better man.”
She let out a cynical laugh. “I’m the worst thing that ever happened to you.”
“You are the greatest thing that ever happened to me. Don’t cheapen what we had with guilt.”
“As long as you promise, too. You couldn’t have done anything differently that night. And no one else would have done what you did.”
The cloak of regret I carried lifted away, along with the burden of asking “what if?” Instead, I could finally ask, “what now?” “You’re right. Let’s just look forward then. It’s just you and me from here until forever.”
Her fingers tightened around the stem of the wine glass. “How can you still feel this way after all these years?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never been able to explain it, but the feeling is right here.” I put my hand over my heart. The panic grew in size, threatening to kill my newfound happiness. “I carry it with me everywhere I go. Am I alone in this? Tell me now and be honest.”
“You were never alone, Caleb.”
She shifted over my bad leg. I exhaled a sharp breath. She moved away, but I pulled her back and cradled her in my arms.
“Does it still hurt?” she asked.
“No,” I lied.
“Be honest with me,” she whispered, running her fingers through my hair.
“Sometimes,” I admitted. “I can deal with it. What about you?”
“Once in a while. I had a few surgeries and physical therapy, but I have full mobility now.”
I gently pressed my hand against her rib, the same spot I placed my hand that night. “May I?”
She nodded. I lifted the fabric from her waist. A discolored, circular scar lay across that area, marring her otherwise smooth flesh. I traced my finger over it. There was nothing sexual in the gesture. It went much deeper. We were connected by childhood joys and tragedy. Her pain was mine to bear. It always had been.
“I’m pretty much healed. In some ways, I got the better end of the deal that night.”
“I disagree, sweetheart. You didn’t have people to help you through it. You lost your father. I imagined you waking up all alone and scared without anyone there.”
“Yeah, well, that did suck, but it’s over. I have a question for you, though.”
“Shoot.”
“Why didn’t you give up on me?”
“My gut told me it didn’t feel right. You promised me you’d fight. I believed that with e
verything in me. My heart told me if you had died, I would have felt it. My head…well, my head wasn’t much use. It screamed I was going insane. But I wasn’t listening.”
“I’m happy you weren’t.”
I smiled at her, rubbing her lower back. “You know, I never cried for you, at least not on the outside. I figured if I cried, it meant I was accepting your death. I was so lonely and lost, but I knew you were out there. Whatever I was feeling had to be ten times worse for you. I had to stay strong.”
She lifted her head, staring into my eyes. “Not for me, Caleb. You never have to be strong for me.”
The tears came hard and fast and with no warning. I tried to do the muffled, stifled man-cry and swallow it back, but I couldn’t. It was almost ten years’ worth of pent-up sorrow aching to get out. The levies I’d carefully constructed over the years ripped apart in that one moment. She held me, wrapping her arms around me. “I missed you so much,” I choked.
“Me, too,” she whimpered. We sat like that for a long time, locked in each other’s arms, weeping for the lost and lonely paths we’d walked…alone.
When I had no more emotion, I just held her tight, something I never thought I’d do again. A gesture I’d never take for granted.
When I got a hold of myself, I cleared my throat. “I have something special for you,” I said. “It’s in my bedroom.”
She gave me a sideways glance. “Real slick, Tanner.”
Replaying what I said, I cracked up. “Get you mind out of the gutter, girl.”
Chapter 19
Present day
Night had come while we sipped wine and shared secrets. I flipped on the bedroom light. She blinked several times as she studied the portrait, taking slow steps toward the far wall where it hung. She trailed her fingers over the edge of the wooden frame I’d made for it. She clapped her hand over her mouth in surprise.
“It’s my painting. It’s Renee.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t understand. How do you have my painting?” she asked.
“They shipped it back to the school after the competition. I managed to convince Mrs. Peters to let me keep the picture. She was hesitant, but there was no one else to claim it. After I pestered her enough, she agreed.” I embraced her from behind. She leaned back against my chest.