He pressed his lips into a rigid line.
“So sorry, your highness. Unlike you, I haven’t lived a morally rigid, perfect life, and for the record, I’ve never claimed I did.” He turned abruptly and stalked to the kitchen. The sounds of careless shuffling of glassware and cabinets banging closed echoed through the house. I had stirred the pot and made him angry, but like the cog of a big machine, the awareness of the other women shifted everything between us out of focus, spitting out emotions too scattered to assess. I went outside and stood on the newly finished porch, inhaling and exhaling the cold autumn air.
A moment later, the door opened and shut behind me.
“You were never interested in knowing any this before.” Anger in check, Toby proceeded slow and measured. “Why is it so important for you to know now?”
“You talk about us moving forward, but there’s this whole period of your life that I know little about.” I trained my gaze across the street. I couldn’t look at him.
“How can I tell you anything if you’re going to turn around and shut me down like this,” he said.
I rubbed my eyes, suddenly very tired. Once again, my cell phone chimed with an incoming call. I reached inside my bag and muted it.
“It was a knee-jerk reaction. I need time to process all this,” I said. “I should go. I have a paper to write.” I drifted to my car, but before I opened the door, behind me came the jingle of loose coins, change Toby perpetually carried in his pocket, and the sound of his heavy footfalls. Seconds later, his arms slipped around me, and I was hauled back against him.
“Please don’t punish me for something I can’t fix,” his anguished voice pleaded in my ear.
I felt split in two. He’d lived a life that was not only separate from me but also glaringly dissimilar. I’d grown up a compliant teenager who steered clear of behaviors that my parents, teachers, and mentors considered inappropriate while in those very same years Toby had experienced everything I worked to avoid. It was a giant chasm between us.
Chapter 11 • Toby
“You said I couldn’t scare you away,” I reminded her. I refused to let go of her, to let her get in her car and run away like I knew she wanted to.
She turned into me; her eyes squeezed shut, and fisted the cotton of my shirt.
“I’m sorry. It’s hard knowing you’ve done the things we do with others. How could I ever compare to your past experiences?”
I knew what it was to be jealous, to feel the bite of jealousy’s razor sharp teeth. How many times had I felt those same teeth sink into me, a maniacal outrage surging through my blood, feasting on fears and eating away at common sense. Claudia didn’t have much experience with it.
I wanted to open up, to purge myself and tell her everything about Lacie and Jackie and the others, but she wouldn’t be able to see past the sex. There was no way in hell I was going to risk losing her over it.
I waited until she opened her eyes. “I can’t compare you to them because none of them compares to you. Not even close.”
She looked at me blankly.
“Don’t you understand?” I kissed her forehead moving to the bridge of her nose. “You’re the girl I dream of.” I kissed one cheek, then her other. “You’re the only one who’s ever held my heart.” Finally, I connected with her mouth. She locked her hands around my neck, sealing our lips, until her cell rang again for the third time.
“I fucking hate cellphones,” I said, releasing her.
She riffled through her handbag, thumbed her screen, and swallowed.
“It’s Pete Perelli—” She gaze shot up, her face frozen in panic. Perelli worked with her father. “Something… something must’ve happened to my dad.”
Her father had been rushed to the hospital, and I broke every speed limit to get her there.
“When someone you love holds a dangerous job, you avoid thinking about how unsafe it really can be,” she said, appearing small and overwhelmed in the passenger seat of the Jeep. “Until something like this happens. Then you have to face it.”
I pressed my hand to her leg. “Your dad’s tough. He’ll put up one helluva fight.”
As soon as we entered the E.R., Claudia dropped my hand and rushed into the arms of a dark-haired, uniformed Suffolk County police officer.
“Your father interrupted a drug deal. The perp opened fire,” he said, hugging her fiercely. “He was hit twice, once in the hip and once in the arm.”
Claudia covered her mouth, muffling a cry. I closed the gap between us, and, pale-faced, she swayed into me.
“How bad?” she asked.
“He was awake and coherent when he arrived.” The cop laid a hand on her shoulder. “They took him right into surgery.”
Claudia nodded and wiped the tears from her face. “Pete, this is my boyfriend, Toby Faye. Officer Perelli and my father used to be partners.”
The cop pumped my hand once, his eye swiftly taking me in. In a town as small as ours, the Faye name had more notoriety than anonymity. Would Perelli connect it to my father’s suicide or my brother’s manslaughter conviction? Or maybe the hate crime my friend had committed? I tensed waiting for it to register, but his hand fell away. And so did his attention. He ushered Claudia forward through a crowd of uniforms. She paused to hug each one of them. Like an appendage, I moved with her, always a step behind. The men in blue nodded patting my back and with firm grips shook my hand, offering words of encouragement, like I was a family member.
I sank down into one of the vinyl seats that ran along the waiting room wall. After years of negative interactions with authority, I’d become distrustful of cops, but in a room full of them here to support Claudia and her father, there was a sense of comfort. Claudia stayed on her feet and pulled out her cell phone. I overheard her talking to one of her aunts, relaying the information about her father’s situation.
She disconnected from the call, and her face fell. I tugged her onto my lap and folded her into my arms. Her shoulders shook as she finally allowed herself cry. I shrugged off my hoodie and wrapped it around her. We sat like that until a sturdy woman in pale green scrubs pushed through a set of swinging doors at the opposite side of the room. She had a dark Middle Eastern complexion and black hair twisted up under a surgical cap. She stopped before us and looked down at her notes before she glanced up at Claudia with clear and unwavering eyes.
“Are you Officer Chiametti’s daughter?”
Claudia rose to her feet. “Yes, I am.”
“I’m Dr. Bahar. Your father sustained two gunshot wounds. The one in the forearm was clean. I surgically repaired the muscle and stitched it closed. The second is the more serious concern. It entered the abdomen and traversed the small bowel and sigmoid colon, and then penetrated the urinary bladder before ending up in the medial wall of the acetabulum.” Her words, reserved and formal, offered no hint of emotion. She must have noted our blank looks and rephrased. “It lodged in the pelvis around the hip joint. I was able to do a surgical repair of the viscus and retrieve the bullet.”
I squeezed Claudia’s fingers. “That sounds like good news.”
“It is.” Dr. Bahar confirmed. “Because of the location of the injury, some of his previous activities may be slightly limited, but with time and physical therapy, he should return to a fairly normal range of motion.”
Despite her cool demeanor, I was reassured by her outward confidence. Claudia sniffled and blotted her eyes with a tissue. “Thank you, Doctor. Can I see him?”
“He’s being moved into recovery right now, but you should be able to see him shortly.” With warming brown eyes, the doctor placed a gentle hand on Claudia’s arm. “Everything went really well.”
Again, I absorbed Claudia’s weight as she collapsed into me, this time crying tears of relief.
“It’s good, baby. It’s all good,” I said as I stroked her hair. A few of the cops glanced at us, and I wrapped my arms around her, glad to be the one she needed.
As I held her, I did a sweeping surve
y of the area, the walls of the waiting room, the desk, and the clerk beyond the office window. The sights and sounds reminding me the last time I’d been in this hospital, my world had turned upside down.
Claudia stilled in my arms. “You okay?” She touched my cheek.
“Yeah. Of course.” I fixed a smile on my face. The last thing I wanted her to do was worry about me. She was all that mattered. With her, my past was a blank slate. No one came before her. “Give me something to do. Let me feel useful.”
“A hot cup of coffee sounds heavenly.”
“Coffee. Yes. It’ll warm you up.” I kissed the top of her head and shifted her weight to the seat next to me. “Be back in a little while.”
There was a cafeteria at the hospital, but I needed out. There was a 7-Eleven convenience store across from the hospital entrance. That’s where I went.
I shopped and made coffee, and in line, I called April to tell her what happened, promising to keep her updated. I returned to the waiting room with two cups of coffee, cookies, granola bars, and two bananas. The room was crowded, and Claudia was on the other side, encircled by a mob of people—regular, civilian-clothed people. The Chiametti family had arrived.
I recognized her father’s sister, Giana, and her husband Vinny. A younger woman, one of Claudia’s cousins whose name I couldn’t recall, was passing around paper dishes with sandwiches and salads. I dumped my bag of miscellaneous snacks on a chair and plopped down next to it.
I’d met them during a Thanksgiving dinner two years ago. Claudia and I weren’t together at the time. Maybe they wouldn’t remember me. I sort of hoped they didn’t. I had been the worst company. Fucked up from Julia’s death, I was mopey and quiet, an imposing oddity at their boisterous family holiday.
I sipped my coffee and watched them from across the room. Along with the eating, there was hugging, kissing—a constant arm around Claudia’s shoulders, and her faint smile told me she was drawing strength from them. It was how a family should be. Being part of a small, combative family, I didn’t know what it was like to have so many people concerned about my welfare. It was strange to me. I was like the poor kid peeking through the window, watching a rich family feast, envious but also intimidated by what they had.
I was happy for Claudia, but I felt wedged apart from her. Like the men in blue, her relatives could give her things I couldn’t. With my history, I certainly was not the most qualified to give support, but after everything we’d been through together, I’d be damned if I didn’t at least try to be there for her.
I was being stupid, keeping to myself when I knew she needed me. I psyched myself up, stood, and tentatively made my way over to the family.
Claudia’s eyes found me, and her smile made me braver. In my arms, her body shook with tiny tremors, and I cursed myself for letting my doubts keep me from comforting her sooner.
“My father has been moved to a room,” she said. “They’re finally going to let me see him.”
“That’s good, baby,” I said, carrying my worry silently.
Chapter 12 • Claudia
I fussed with the blanket over my father for the umpteenth time as if he were even conscious of a breeze or a draft. He hadn’t woken yet.
“Sweetheart, he’s sedated. He’ll rest comfortably for the reminder of the night,” Aunt Giana said. “You need to get some rest. Go home. Uncle Vinny and I will stay. We’ll call if anything changes.” She nodded to Toby, who took my arm.
I kissed my father’s cheek and acquiesced to my aunt’s wishes. Even though I was reluctant to admit it, after nearly eight hours at the hospital, I was dead on my feet. I didn’t pay attention on the drive back to Sayville, glad to let Toby take over, but when he stopped in front of his house, I glanced at him with questioning eyes.
“I’m not leaving you alone tonight. I didn’t think you’d mind if I brought Bernie to your house with us,” he said.
I was relieved. I wanted them both with me. I couldn’t be alone. Bernie, excited, wiggled in the back seat the whole way. Opening the door to my house panicked me. My father had always been my home. He was this house. He could’ve died today.
I reached for Toby.
“I’m here, baby.” His arms went around me, automatic. “Everything’s going to be alright.”
Up in my room, Toby set up blanket on the floor for Bernie. I moved through my nightly routine on automatic pilot, stopping only when I saw Toby in my bed, waiting for me.
Getting the call about my dad was like having everything I knew, the very foundation of who I was, thrown into the air like a handful of marbles. At any minute they would come crashing down and scatter at my feet. My nerves were fried and my body numb.
Despite his own horrible memories at that hospital, Toby had remained at my side the whole time. My father would never approve of this beautiful boy sleeping in my bed next to me. I’d been on my own through difficult situations before, but it’d been hard. And lonely. With Toby beside me, I no longer needed to carry any burden alone. After I flipped off the light, slipped between the cool sheets, and slid up against Toby’s solid warmth, I felt tearfully grateful for him.
“Thank you for staying with me today. I curled into him, feeling his heart beat strong and steady under my palm. “I know it couldn’t have been easy for you.”
“The only place that feels right for me is next to you.” He pulled me closer. “I love you, baby. Good or bad, all I want is to be wherever you are.”
I was so tired and my emotions so jumbled that his words forced big fat tears to plod down my cheeks. He pulled me into his arms and kissed them away.
“Make love to me.” My mouth found his, and I inhaled his breath.
Our nightclothes disappeared, his hot hands instantly all over me. I scratched his back and bit his shoulder.
“Please, now,” I urged, brazen with need to forget anything but us.
Leaning over me, he tore through his wallet but came away empty-handed.
“Baby, I can’t.” He pulled away. “I don’t have anything. I didn’t think—”
Sweet, lovely distraction was so close. Right there, pressing against me, whispering softly.
“I need you.” I gripped his waist, pulling him to me. Nothing else would be enough.
I arched my hips, and my breath stilled as he pushed inside me. My body flushed, full throttle, and I closed my eyes and pressed my face into his neck. He moved inside me, deliberate and slow, and I came undone. My breath cagey as tears flowed freely down my face.
“Baby, you want me to stop?” he asked, concern in his voice.
I curled my legs around his thighs and tangled my fingers in his hair, like a lifeline. “No. Just love me.”
I awoke the next morning to the smell of coffee, and following the aroma to the kitchen, I found Toby and a hot mug waiting for me. I stirred creamer into it, conscious that if we lived together this would be our daily routine. I’d fall asleep tucked safely in his arms, and we’d wake up together, sip coffee at the kitchen table, me distracted by his bare chest and adorable case of bedhead.
This morning, though, I was too preoccupied with my father’s condition to truly appreciate it.
I finished my coffee and proceeded with the necessities: calling into work, emailing my professors to explain the circumstance, and then finally, checking in with Aunt Giana.
“My father is awake. I need to get back to the hospital,” I reported.
“Let me shower, and we can drop off Bernie on our way,” he said.
Even after stopping for another cup of coffee at the 7-Eleven, we got to the hospital before visiting hours and had to sit and wait to see my father. I shuffled my feet with impatience.
“After you fell asleep last night, I called your mom,” Toby told me.
“You did?” My legs stilled, and my voice rose with surprise.
“Was that wrong?”
“No, it’s just that you’ve never met or talked with her before.”
“No big deal.” He shr
ugged. “I told her I thought she ought to know what happened, so she could be here for you. She’s coming out as soon as she can make the flight arrangements.”
“Thank you,” I said, and in the ensuing silence, I explored my nail beds for cuticles and hangnails to chew until he reached over and halted the seek-and-destroy mission by linking our fingers.
“So, my first kiss was with Janie Pachensky, third grade. A dare out on the playground.”
The sweet confession was obviously in response to yesterday’s argument, a small purging of details I’d been digging for, but by picking that particular moment, I knew he was also trying to distract me from thinking about my father.
My smile came even though I didn’t want to be sidetracked. “Oh, that’s what happened to her. I heard she’s gay.”
His laughter filled the quiet waiting area. “She is not. I saw her a few months ago. She’s married. To a guy.”
“And no doubt still lusting after you.” I sipped my to-go coffee. “Hearing about your first kiss is sweet, but who’d you lose your virginity to?”
He whistled. “Going right for the jugular. Girls don’t typically want to know the details about who their guy tagged before them.”
“And guys want to know?”
“I might be curious, but I make it a point not to ask, and I happen to know you have no tagging history before me.”
I didn’t even try not to roll my eyes at him. “Please do not refer to sex as ‘tagging’ like some wannabe urban gangster.”
He half snorted, half chuckled. “Damn, I forgot I’m a grownup.”
“Skip the particulars and give me general details.”
“Okay.” He twirled a strand of my hair around his finger. “I was fifteen. She was eighteen.”
“Your obsession for older women started at a young age.” My unmistakable indignant tone was met with his silence. I didn’t want him to have to censor the details of his past, but there was a huge discrepancy in our attitudes about sex. I could only ever share my body with someone I was committed to. It was hard to fathom his casualness about sex, but many of my peers were as unselective about it as him. I was once again the square peg. Keeping my eyes low, I pressed on. “How did you know her?”
Keeping Claudia (Toby & Claudia Book 2) Page 13