by Jane Anthony
Her cowgirl boots clunk to the floor as she kicks her feet out from under her and sits up. “Daniel okay?” she asks, rubbing her eyes.
My mind rolls through the possible answers to give, but nothing seems right. He’s not okay. Nothing is okay, but it will be. Eventually.
Instead, I offer is my hand and pull her from her chair. “Come on.”
She follows without question, the tap of our combined footsteps breaking through the deafening quiet.
Daniel’s mask is secured in place, but he doesn’t move when we enter. Panic stabs at my chest. I trudge onward, nearing the edge of his bed, swallowing down the fear bubbling inside. But a momentary sense of relief washes over when I see his lashes flutter.
“You guys are a good match,” he mumbles, the plastic over his mouth fogging with the words. “With your big hair and band tees. So MTV.”
“How are you feeling?” Gabby’s voice is low and articulate. She sits at his bedside and clamps down lightly on his forearm.
Daniel tugs at the mask and with his free hand wriggles his fingers, beckoning her closer. “Give us a second, will ya?”
I stand back as she leans in, her brow furrowed, and her jaw set tight. She listens with intent, a curt nod following her whispered promise.
Rounding the bed, I sit once again. Daniel gasps. I reach for the mask, but his warm hand springs to mine. “I love you, Anthony. Be good.”
No words come between us again. Nothing left but the shallow pant of Daniel’s breath until even that goes silent, too.
Chapter Ten
GABRIELLA
The yellow glow of streetlamps whiz past the windows of Anthony’s car. One after the other, a haunted gleam that fills the cab with shorts bursts of light before we plunge back into darkness again.
He hasn’t said much, and I guess I can’t blame him. But the heavy rise and fall of his chest speaks on his behalf. It tells a sordid tale of sorrow and abandonment. He’s officially all alone. Having watched every person he’s ever loved wither and die. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
It’s not fair.
Daniel’s words still echo in my ear. His hushed secret bouncing in my brain with every push and pull of the stick shift. He’s hard, but he’s soft. He needs you now. Take care of him.
It twists with the sweet serenade of Ann Wilson caroling through the car stereo. I close my eyes to the sound, letting her stunning vocals replace the angst sitting on my chest. I wish there was some magic phrase, but Daniel’s dead, and there’s nothing I can say or do to ease the pain in Anthony’s heart. A deep gash that fileted his soul that stings inside me just the same.
Yet, as the Corvette careens off the highway toward my exit, a new feeling takes over. Fear. I can already see the blood vessels bursting in Dad’s balding head as I walk through that door at four a.m. I’m going to be grounded until menopause. That is, if he lives through the screaming and doesn’t have an aneurism right there on the living room carpet.
The house looms beyond the moon as if it’s haunted. Anthony slows to a stop at the top of my street, but I hesitate to reach for the handle. “Are you sure you’re gonna be okay?” It’s been so long since I spoke that my voice sounds foreign in the quiet cab.
“Yeah,” he says at the end of a nod, but his gravelly baritone says otherwise. He reaches out and links his arm around my neck to pull me over the console that separates us. Day-old stubble scrapes against my temple, his lips whispering over my skin before pulling away. “Are you?”
I inhale a deep breath and blow it out hard. “It’s not too late to flee to Mexico, is it?”
The dashboard lights glitter in Anthony’s midnight eyes. With the surrounding darkness, it’s hard to tell where the night ends and he begins. “I’ll throw the car in drive right now if you want.”
A breathy snicker rolls across my tongue. “It’s tempting, but I should probably go in and face the music.”
The warmth of his hand heats my cheek. He thumbs my cheekbone, his fingers sliding into the thicket of crumpled curls barely managing to stay intact. I lift my face as he pulls me in and captures my lips with his. “Thank you for everything.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
Hot breath sweeps my mouth. “You were there. That’s all I needed.”
As I stare into his intense gaze, I realize I’ll always be there for him. Wherever he is is where I want to be, and no one is going to get in the way of that. Not school or my dad or my insane deep-seated Catholic guilt.
My palms sweat and my chest aches. I feel as if I’ve been running a marathon. The dizzy euphoria swims in my brain, a light, airy lift that pulls me into space.
Is this love?
Do I love him?
It’s too soon to say, but I want to. It crawls up my throat and sits on my tongue, itching to be free.
“I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“K,” he accepts with another quick kiss before sending me on my way.
Dread seeps into my gut and slowly devours all the feelings of warmth left from Anthony’s embrace. I ascend the concrete steps to my front door knowing hell waits for me on the other side.
Heavy footsteps stomp down the hall. I throw my hackles up, preparing for the fight of my life.
“Gabriella.” My name flits from his tongue, raspy and thick, yet clipped with warning. It ties me in knots as I come face to face with his wild-eyed stare.
“Hey, Dad.”
His nostrils flair, his thick arms crossing over his expanding chest. Years of police training have taught him to be calm, but rage twists in his eyes as he glares at me from across the room. “Where the hell were you?”
Each punctuated word skids through his teeth. I stand tall, forcing a brave face, while all my insides shriek for mercy. “I was with a friend.”
“Are you drunk?” He side-eyes me as if I’m a threat and steps closer.
“No.”
“Stoned?”
I roll my eyes and mirror his cinched arm stance. “No, Dad. I wasn’t drinking, or taking drugs, or having sex. I was with a friend, and I’m late. That’s it.”
He jerks his head as if slapped by my outburst. “What friend? And don’t try to tell me you were at Maribelle’s this whole time. I called, and you were never there.”
I swallow the saliva building on my tongue. It’s time to come clean. “His name’s Anthony.”
A crimson flush spreads across his brows and down the length of his nose. It burns on his cheeks as his angry stare narrows. “The boy you’ve been tutoring?”
“Before you go crazy, just listen—”
“No, Gabriella! I’m not listening to anymore of your lies!”
The strength of his roar blows me back, but I recover quickly. “You never listen to me, Dad. That’s your biggest problem. You only hear what you want to hear. You make laws and expect me to follow them no questions asked. I’m not your daughter, I’m your fucking prisoner!”
“Don’t you dare cuss at me!”
“I’ll say whatever I damn well please!” I shout. “When are you going to realize I’m not a little girl anymore?”
Red rings circle his eyes, the whites swiftly following. “Doesn’t matter how old you are. You’ll always be my little girl.”
The emotion inside threatens to burst. Years of keeping my mouth shut, of obeying his rules and walking on eggshells for fear of his wrath. It all comes to the surface as his words hang between us. My gaze shifts to the photo on the wall. This is her fault.
“Maybe if you went out and found a life of your own, you’d stop being so obsessed with mine.”
He follows my stare then snaps back, his lips twisting into a sneer. “You watch your tone, young lady.”
Fighting the tears is a losing battle. They brim across my lashes and slide down my cheeks in unstoppable rivulets. “Kelly Ann Donofrio!” I shout.
Her name bites through clenched teeth, but the threat of hurting him is no longer a deterrent. I hurt, too, and I’m not going to lie on
my ass and take it.
“She’s dead, Dad. Holding me hostage isn’t going to bring her back.”
A whimper sounds in the back of his throat, but his eyes glaze over with pointed fury. “I am the parent here. And I expect you home at the hour I give. Case closed. Do you understand me?”
“You’re never going to listen to reason. I don’t know why I bother.” Turning away, I move toward the stairs as he continues shouting at my back.
“I want you in this house every day after school, Gabriella! I mean it!”
But I don’t stop. I don't turn and fight and yell and scream the way I want to. Instead, I simply walk into my bedroom and close the door.
Chapter Eleven
GABRIELLA
My footsteps tap on the warm concrete as I turn the corner toward the Shell station. Springtime sun beats on my back. It’s hard to be angry on a day like today. With the birds chirping overhead and the forsythia bushes in full bloom. I drag my fingers over the soft yellow petals as I pass, the floral fragrance lifting to my nostrils.
Tension poisoned the last few days. My father and I orbit each other, barely speaking other than for basic need. I’m not playing by his rules anymore. I’m taking back ownership of my life. The game has changed, and I’m playing for keeps.
Anthony smiles when he sees me approach. My sultry skin flushes with heat. I pick up my pace, my brisk walk becoming a jog until I fling my body against his. Minutes without him feel like a year. But all my troubles dissolve into a puddle at his feet the moment our lips touch. Wrapped in his strong arms, nothing else matters.
“Happy birthday, my little rebel,” he growls, nuzzling my neck.
“Thank you.” I melt against him, the scent of gasoline soaking into the fibers of my uniform. “How are you doing?” Releasing my grip, I stand back and slide my ass on the stool outside the glass booth.
A moment of pain glimmers in his eyes. “Okay, I guess. Better when I’m here, at least. The house is so quiet without him.”
“I understand.” I nod.
“What about you? Shit still weird at your house?”
“Full lockdown.”
A flock of birds emerge from the treetops and form a pattern overhead as they soar through the sky. I lift my gaze, wishing for a flickering moment that I was one of them, my wings stretched and the air beneath my feathers. Free to fly anywhere I want with no tether keeping me grounded.
“You gonna be able to sneak away later so I can take you out?” He splits my knees with his hips and drags me to the edge. One leg instinctively wraps around his waist to hold me steady, the other twined around the back of his thigh.
“Long as you make it worth my while,” I purr. My hands find their way around his neck. He leans in closer, raven tendrils fall in haphazard strands as he claims my mouth a second time in a series of small kisses that leaves me breathless. My body hums. I forget where I am. Lost in his sweet caress and the hard feel of him pressed between my thighs.
The echo of my name carries on the breeze, but I’m too entrenched in Anthony to fully recognize the sound. It barks a second time, louder and more violent. It pulls me from the clouds and drags me down, kicking and screaming.
My muscles pull taut as I see him coming, fear and utter disbelief twisting up my throat as I croak out the first word that comes to mind. “Dad?”
Anthony’s head whips to the right, but he doesn’t move. His arms still locked around the small of my back.
Dumbfounded, I scoot back onto the stool and twist away from Anthony’s hold. “What are you doing here?”
A crimson scourge seeps up my dad’s skull, the veins popping under his receding hairline. “I thought I told you to come straight home after school,” he seethes through gritted teeth. “This what you call tutoring?”
“Anthony Morello. Nice to finally meet you, sir.” He extends his hand in an obvious attempt to defuse the situation.
My father glares at it as if it’s a plague set on destroying all that is holy. “Get in the car, Gabriella,” he sneers, turning his attention back on me.
“No.”
The clipped word catches my father off guard. His head whips in my direction, blind fury eating through his stone-faced expression. “What did you just say to me?”
“I said no,” I tell him again, my voice deep and stern. He has no right coming here and inserting his dominance on Anthony’s turf.
He grabs me by the arm and wrenches me off the stool. It clatters to the ground, the echoed commotion spooking another flock from the trees. I stumble, but his strong grasp holds me upright as he marches me toward the open door of the station wagon.
Anthony jumps in his path. “Yo, man. You’re hurting her.”
“You listen to me,” he growls, baring his teeth in Anthony’s face. “Stay away from my daughter.”
But Anthony’s eyes narrow, fierce and feral. “What do you intend to do if I don’t?”
“I have a gun and a shovel. I doubt anyone would miss you.”
He loosens his grip, and I flail free. My father’s menacing scowl isn’t enough intimidation to make Anthony regress. He puffs out his chest, his hands balling into fists at his sides. If he touches my father, he’ll go to jail. Period. My dad will make sure of it.
“Fine, Dad, you win.”
Anthony stands down at the sound of my voice. When my father takes me by the arm again, this time I go without a fight. “I’m sorry,” I mouth to Anthony, but his ringed fingers wrap around my opposite bicep, and before I can argue, he pushes his mouth to mine in a final fuck you to the man who gave me life.
A breathy gasp fills my lungs. My father yanks me away, but the damage is done. The vein in his temple pulses with purple threat. I duck into the passenger side, hoping to avoid the splash zone when it eventually bursts.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Gabriella,” he warns, throwing the car into gear. “But I have a good mind to think it has something to do with that hooligan you’ve been seeing behind my back.”
I stare out the window, keeping my eyes on the rushing road. “Jesus, Dad, he’s not a hooligan.”
“You will not take the Lord’s name in vain, and you will not see that person again, do you hear me?”
I cross my arms in a huff, my legs immediately following the same course of action. “You can’t keep us apart.”
“Don’t test me, missy. I’m still your father.”
“Yeah, well, I’m eighteen now. You can’t control my every move.”
“What, you think being eighteen means you’re grown?” He cuts the wheel and swings into our driveway, then slams on the brake before hitting the baby blue garage door. “My house. My rules. That loser reeks of trouble, and I won’t have any of it rubbing off on you.”
I narrow my gaze, a small smirk hitting my lips. “Too late,” I snap, kicking the door open with my foot.
He barks my name, a rabid Rottweiler halting my hot pursuit up the curved pathway to the door. “Don’t you walk away from me!”
Turning on my heel, I stare at him straight in the eye as his vehement glare burns hotter than the sun. “What. More. Do. You. Want?” I spit through clenched teeth. “You wanted me home. I’m home.”
He moves into my personal space. “I know I may seem harsh to you, but trust me when I tell you, there’s only one reason a grown man pursues a young girl. Open your eyes, Gabriella. He’s a wolf. He’ll take what he wants then throw you away.”
“You don’t even know him.” I curse, spinning back toward the house in a mad dash for the solace of my bedroom.
“I’m an excellent judge of character. I’ve been around enough criminals in my lifetime, and your buddy Anthony’s the worst kind.” Dad grabs my wrist as I head for the stairs. “He’s feeding off your innocence.”
“Maybe I'm not as innocent as you think.”
His lips press into a thin, pink line.
“What did you think, Dad? That I’d be a virgin forever?”
Without warni
ng, his free hand comes round and slaps my face. My hair whips across my nose and mouth, the sting bringing tears to my eyes.
“I won’t stand that kind of talk in this house. Your mother would be turning over in her grave.”
I cover my cheek to soothe the ache. Resentment sits on my chest like a stone. “I wish you died instead of her.”
Hurt flashes in his eyes. He drops his hold, rearing back as if I’ve threatened him with weapons instead of words. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do. I hate this house, and I hate you.” With venom in my veins, I stomp up the stairs. The open doorway mocks my pain. I scan the casing, my eyes focusing on the brass hinges that used to hold my door. A frustrated grumble tears from my throat.
My dad’s voice floats up the stairwell. “Privacy is a privilege, not a right! You’ll get it back when you’ve earned it!”
I silently curse under my breath and stalk into my bedroom. With trembling hands, I lift the phone and dial the number I’ve learned by heart.
“Yeah, Shell station.” Anthony’s velvety voice strokes my ear.
A flood of tears fall down my face in saltwater rivulets. “Come get me.”
“Gabby? What’s the matter?”
Grabbing my backpack, I empty my schoolbooks and start jamming it full of clothes. “Just come get me, okay? I’ll listen for your car and come outside when I hear it.”
“Yeah, okay. I’ll see you as soon as I can, all right? Hang tight till I get there.”
Chapter Twelve
ANTHONY
Easing my foot off the gas, I coast down Gabby’s street. Her house sits back from the road, a small Cape Cod home with punched out windows like eyes encased by light blue shutters. Small flowers dapple the row of shrubs that grow against the white aluminum siding, and at the end of the line, a stately tree looms above, its branches stretched across the roof.
I idle near her neighbor’s house and throw the Vette in park. The engine roars when I tap the gas, my siren call to let her know I’m here.