by Bethany-Kris
The phone in her pocket burned a hole as she headed past the last few people. A part of her wanted to pull out of the phone, and make one single call. She knew Andino’s number—she could let him know that she would be there today.
The smarter part of her brain knew that probably wasn’t a good idea. Her brothers crawled through her phone history on a regular basis. She couldn’t even delete shit without them finding out. She didn’t need that kind of trouble when they got back.
She left the damn phone where it was.
Their priest didn’t have a particularly large congregation, but it was a decent size. He often allowed confession to be open after every Sunday service, just in case someone in the church wanted to make use of it.
He held confession in the back of the church, behind the altar. A private room set up with rich tapestries, and two chairs facing one another. Sometimes, it made confession a little awkward when a person was forced to look someone in the face when they admitted to some of their deepest, darkest sins.
The comfort of the room often helped, though. It certainly didn’t look like the old confessional booths in movies. Actually, Siena didn’t think she had ever used one of those kinds of confessionals.
None of that mattered.
She wasn’t going to be attending confession at all.
At least, not today.
She was banking on the fact that the enforcer was rather new to watching her, and quite young in the grand scheme of things. She hoped that those facts would keep him from calling her brothers to let them know she had skipped out on him, if only because he was one of the many men in their family who had a healthy fear where Kev and Darren were concerned.
He wouldn’t want to get in trouble.
Not for her.
Siena slipped into the back hallway that led to the offices, and the private room used for confession. The priest was already greeting a man standing outside the private room, and gestured for the man to go in.
He didn’t even see Siena.
He didn’t see her take a sharp right, and head out the exit, either.
Siena glanced down at the peach-colored dress and matching pumps she wore. Even the peach hat on her head was Sunday services appropriate. And wedding appropriate, although she wasn’t sure if she would even be attending the wedding.
That invisible clock in the back of her mind only stopped ticking down when she slipped inside her Lexus, and turned on the ignition. She was no longer counting days or minutes or seconds to when she would see John again.
To when he would be out again.
She was finally in the fucking homestretch. Even just a few days of not seeing him was far too long.
Whatever trouble might find her for this …
So worth it.
FOUR
Leonard sat beside Johnathan on the bench just outside the entrance doors of Clearview Oaks. Up above, the sky was a pale blue, and cloudless.
Despite the beautiful day, the humid heat was enough to make John wish he was not wearing jeans at the moment. The thick material stuck to his skin, and made him hotter. He pulled out the collar of his T-shirt, and waved it a bit to create the illusion of cold air.
His attention to the weather did not escape his therapist’s notice.
“Quite hot out,” Leonard noted.
“It’s been like this for a while. Going through a spell, I think.”
“Better hot, than cold.”
John nodded. “Truth.”
Leonard passed a look at the brown paper bag resting beside John’s thigh. “It didn’t take you very long to pack up your things, did it?”
A smile passed between the two men. Even John couldn’t help but chuckle when Leonard shook his head.
“I didn’t come in with very much,” John admitted. “I had everything packed before breakfast this morning, actually.”
“And I suppose you didn’t ask for anyone to bring you very much while you were here, either,” Leonard said. “At least, you never asked me to make that request on your behalf to someone in your family.”
“No.”
“Shame.”
John cocked a brow. “What is?”
“Sometimes packing up your things and leaving a facility can be just as cathartic as anything you find comforting—or even, a great satisfaction. Something you completed. Or even, a goal you achieved. A challenge in your life that you bested, and your reward, so to speak, is packing up your things.”
“It still felt … rewarding.”
Maybe that wasn’t exactly the right word to use, but it was all John felt like offering at the moment. Packing up his few things to leave Clearview had felt a lot like when he left prison almost a year ago. Different circumstances, sure, but the emotions and how he felt them were still very much the same in a lot of ways.
Relief as he pulled the few photographs off the wall, and anxiety as he exited out of the bars that had kept him locked up for years. Anticipation, too, at the idea of freedom, but knowing he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it.
This time had been months.
It also wasn’t prison.
Yet, those same emotions plagued him. Those same worries about the outside, life, and even his family were forefront in his mind. Like little needles sticking in his brain, and staying like that for far longer than he wanted them to.
No matter what he did, he could not remove that strange sensation. At the same time, he wasn’t sure that he wanted to, either. Although uncomfortable, it was still comforting in its familiarity.
No, Clearview hadn’t been a prison. Leaving the place was still very much a variable unknown to John.
Funny how it still felt the same.
Leonard pulled out a form from the inside pocket of his white lab coat, and waved it in the air to catch John’s attention. “Your probation is all set again. Of course, we had to pull some strings when you were first admitted as to not break your probation.”
“Yeah, thanks again for that.”
“No thanks needed.”
Leonard handed over the form, and John opened it up. Looking the document over, it seemed that Leonard had finally been listed as John’s official registered therapist for the unforeseeable future. Well, for after his release from Clearview.
The form listed approximate appointment dates, and Leonard’s signature was heavy and bold on the bottom of the paper. A sign of the doctor’s agreement to follow the letter of the law where John’s probation was concerned, and report him to the probation office should he stop attending his appointments.
“Would you really report me?” John asked. “If I didn’t show up to my appointments, I mean.”
Leonard chuckled. “Should I, John?”
He looked over at the therapist. The man simply raised a thick, white eyebrow in response, waiting for John’s answer. Leonard was too good at this shit, but frankly, John was more grateful to this man than anyone could possibly know.
“Thank you for giving my parents an answer all those years ago,” John murmured. “I imagine it can’t be easy to tell someone that their kid is—”
“Not crazy. Not in need of a cure to be curable. Don’t say those things.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Then what?”
John smirked. “I was just going to say bipolar, actually.”
Leonard nodded, and the man’s gaze turned pensive for a moment. “I know you may have felt like I sentenced you to something you did not want back then, John, but I hope in a way that you found relief in having the right answer, too.”
“I did—it took a while.”
“Sometimes it does for those with bipolar.”
“But thank you.”
Leonard waved a hand high, and settled back into the bench. “No thanks needed.”
“You didn’t answer my question, by the way. I’m emotionally unstable sometimes, but not dumb or stupid.”
The older man laughed hard and loud, and his sharp gaze cut to John in a flash. “Which question
—whether I would report you or not for missing appointments with me?”
“Yes.”
“Well, you didn’t answer me, John. Should I report you?”
John really didn’t have to think about his answer. It wasn’t an easy answer, sure. The thing was, nothing about his life or his disorder was easy. It couldn’t be, and it was never going to be. That was something he was taking away from this place, and because of the man sitting beside him. Yet another thing to be grateful for.
For some reason, John had a sneaking suspicion that there was going to be a lot to be grateful for over his lifetime where Leonard was concerned. At least, during the period that Leonard was his therapist.
“I’m choosing stability,” John said after a moment.
“You are.”
“And so yes,” he added, “you should report me.”
Leonard reached over and clapped John firmly on the shoulder. He wasn’t really the touchy-feely-type, but he was getting better at it. He had learned that sometimes a hand on his shoulder was meant to praise him, and not simply break through his personal space barriers.
He had spent almost five months at Clearview Oaks. For some people, that would seem like a ridiculously long amount of time simply to reset, recharge, and get their shit figured out. At first, it had seemed like a long time to John, too.
Sometimes, mental health couldn’t be fixed with new meds, a couple of chats, and a pat on the back. Sometimes, mental health was so much more than the disorder a person lived with, and the outlook it gave them.
Mental health could not be timed.
It could not be wished it away.
It took patience.
John had needed this.
Damn, how he needed this.
“Seems your drive has arrived,” Leonard said.
John’s gaze drifted from Leonard’s smile, to the black Mercedes pulling up next to the Clearview welcome sign. He had thought a lot about who might come to pick him up, but that was not the person he considered. “Huh.”
“Not who you were expecting, I suspect?”
“Actually, I can’t say I’m surprised,” John admitted as the man exited the car, and came to stand on the other side. “Unexpected, yes, but not surprised. I thought my uncle, Gio. Or maybe even Andino.”
Leonard chuckled as he stood from the bench. “Mmm, I am sure both of those people fought tooth and nail to be the one here today.”
“Likely.”
“Someone else fought harder, clearly.”
Leonard waved a hand at the waiting man.
Lucian waved back in kind.
“Nice to see you again, old friend,” Leonard called.
“And you, Leo,” John’s father replied.
Leonard looked down at John. “Don’t keep people waiting for you—it’s rude.”
Goddamn.
John got his ass up, and took the hand that Leonard offered to shake. “Thanks.”
“I will see you next week, John. Bright and early. Be there.”
“Of course.”
John’s father had barely pulled the Mercedes out onto the road, before his hand reached for his son. Lucian’s palm cupped John’s cheek, and then slid around to grab the back of his neck. John blinked, and he was pulled closer to his father.
Lucian never looked away from the road when he laughed, gave John a quick pat on the neck, and brought him close enough that their temples touched.
“You look good,” his father said when he finally let him go.
John smiled. “You think?”
“Happy, John.”
“I am.”
Or, as happy as he could be. Sometimes, happiness meant feeling settled and stable. It did not have to be overwhelming joy and pride. Happiness was as simple as feeling and being good inside his head.
It was the little things, after all.
“I thought Andino might come today,” John admitted.
Lucian waved a hand before placing it back to the leather-wrapped steering wheel. “He’s a little busy, that’s all. Everyone is, but they all bickered for hours about who was going to come and get you.”
“Hell, I could have taken a cab home.”
“Not my son.”
That was all his father said.
Maybe, it was all Lucian had to say.
John still heard the meaning beneath the simple words. “Thanks for coming to get me, Papa.”
Lucian shot John a look, and nodded once. “I’m always going to be here to get you when you need me to, my boy.”
“My birthday is in ten days—I’ll be thirty-one.”
He didn’t finish his statement. He figured he didn’t really have to.
Lucian only shrugged. “Always my boy—my only boy, John.”
“I suppose Ma wants to see me.”
“Among others,” Lucian agreed. “We have to make a trip to Tuxedo Park, before we head into the city. Manhattan, specifically.”
Damn.
John just wanted to relax.
“Have to?”
“It’s a big day,” Lucian murmured, shooting his son a grin.
“What does that mean?”
His father cleared his throat. “Well, a lot has happened, John.”
“And that’s why we’re going to drive all over New York today?”
“Kind of.”
“Papa.”
Lucian chuckled at the tone of John’s voice. “You sound just like Antony when you do that. Your grandfather would be proud as hell.”
“I bet. What aren’t you telling me?”
“A lot, and nothing at all. Where do you want to start?”
John looked over his shoulder, and noted a freshly pressed tux resting in a see-through garment bag. A peach-colored vest, tie, and pocket square was also inside the bag. “Let’s start with why there’s a tux in the back.”
“It’s for you to wear.”
John’s brow dipped low. “With a vest and tie that looks like it belongs in a wedding?”
“That’s because it does.” Lucian reached over, and pulled out a small box from the glove compartment, and handed it over to John. A ring box, it seemed. He opened it up to find a set of rings inside—one female, and one male. “You’re going to need this, too. Keep a hold of it, and don’t lose it. It’s really your only job today.”
John blinked. “What the fuck?”
Lucian laughed darkly. “Yeah, that’s a good start. You’re Andino’s best man. You need a tux, and it’s your job to keep an eye on the rings, and hand them over when the priest asks for them. You’ll stand at the altar where you’re told to stand, and leave when you’re told to leave. There’s really not much else to it—Andino and Haven did not want a lot of fanfare for this day, and we didn’t exactly have a lot of time to work with.”
His father passed him a look, quickly adding, “They are being married at Antony and Cecelia’s estate, and the dinner and party will follow at the Waldorf Astoria in Manhattan. You see, we’re having trouble keeping out of sight lately. We don’t want to stay gathered—at least, not the whole family—in one place for too long where we might be attacked in some way. And so, we are having the wedding with a very limited amount of guests in our private home, and the larger party where people are less likely to attack in a very public setting.”
Lucian ticked a finger into the air, saying, “Of course, still highly protected.”
“Wait, Andi’s getting married today?”
“I said that, yes.”
“Today.”
“Yes, John.”
“He didn’t tell me—”
Lucian’s gaze cut to John’s, quieting him instantly. “He asked her the day they came to visit you, and only announced it to us a couple of days later. They did not want to wait to be married, and everyone has agreed to this. Andino did, however, want to wait for you.”
John looked down at the rings again. “A best man, huh?”
“You’re not really surprised, are you?”
�
��Fuck no.”
Lucian let out another one of his hard laughs, and then reached for his son again. John let his father bring him close, touch their temples together, and pat his neck with affection he had denied his father for years.
Then, John had another thought.
His mind had been so caught up in the revelation about Andino getting married today that he hadn’t stopped to think at all about the other information his father offered to him. The mention of moving the family from place to place because of protection. How they were planning in order to prevent an attack that they believed might come.
“It’s the Calabrese, isn’t it?” John asked quietly.
“How about today, we—”
“How about you just answer me, Papa?”
Lucian nodded with a dry chuckle. “All right. Yes, it is the Calabrese.”
“How bad is it?”
Sure, Siena had given John a bit to go on, but that’s all it had been. A little bit of info—a tease, if you will. Something to make him stay up at night and ponder, but not enough to chew on and really understand what was happening.
He needed more.
He needed it now.
“Dante wanted this feud between our families to be settled peacefully,” Lucian said.
“Someone mentioned that to me already. I’m not sure what methods he used for that, though.”
“An attempt to arrange a marriage, actually.”
John stiffened in his seat, and his gaze flew to his father. “What?”
“You heard me,”
He didn’t like what that implied. There was really only one Calabrese woman worthy of marrying into the Marcello family, or rather, one woman that Dante would consider worthy in the grand scheme.
Siena.
“He didn’t—”
“It was not your woman,” Lucian muttered. “Relax.”
John did not realize how stiff his body had become in those few seconds, or how firmly he had gritted his teeth until relief flowed through his body. Sweet like sugar, the sensation washed through his bloodstream. His molars ached when they released from the tight clench. He found crescent shaped marks on the insides of his palms from how tightly he clenched his fists together, too.
Jesus Christ.
“It was not Siena,” Lucian repeated. “And the details do not matter, honestly. What matters is that the deal failed, and the violence escalated from there. We had in good faith information about an attack that would happen on one of our warehouses, but it did not happen.”