I’m a sham.
A farce.
Imposter.
I strived to be the best for her, and in turn I was the worst.
Chapter Four
Bianca
I’m exhausted. They all talk about me like I’m not lying in this bed. I hear all the words being thrown around; suicide watch, catatonic, shock, but the most untrue . . . avoidance. Reality hit me in the face and continued smacking me until I couldn’t take it. I was not avoiding. Suicide wasn’t running through my mind. It wasn’t a thought, at all. I didn’t want to harm myself, but feeling the physical pain I exacted on myself eased some of the burning, strangling feeling that took root inside of me. It gave me somewhere else to avert my focus. I know it was stupid, it’s an easy place to go to, and I can understand their worry, but it isn’t warranted. I need to gain the tools to move forward and deal with the aftermath that was once my life.
Lynsey is the only one not voicing an opinion, not looking at me with despair and pity. She is looking at me, not in worry, but commiseration. Her silence says more than her words . . . she understands this. In a way she seems jealous that I removed myself from life for a short time.
But I didn’t.
The short reprieve didn’t lessen the despair.
It just created excess turmoil in my already fucked-up life.
The whispering ceased, and I opened my eyes to find everyone had left. Everyone but Bronson. The lines surrounding his eyes deep from worry, his face unshaven and clothes disheveled. Remorse washes over me.
“Shouldn’t you be on your honeymoon?” Add another thing to my guilt list.
“I wouldn’t leave you, Binks. Callie either.” Hearing those words, wave after wave of shame coursed through me.
“I’ll be fine.” I saw his eyes narrow, and his fists clenched. His control snapped.
“Fuck, Bianca. You scared us to death. I’m doing every thing I can to stop them from committing you to the psych ward for a mandatory hold, telling them you’re not suicidal. I feel like I’m lying to protect you because I don’t know what the fuck is going on in your head.”
“You’re not lying. I wasn’t trying to kill myself.”
“Then what were you doing?”
“Trying to stop the pain. Stop the confusion. It hurts so bad, Bronson.” My voice snags against the sob I’m trying to hold back.
He steps forward, ready to do the big brother thing and comfort me. Taking me in his arms he squeezes me. “Not trying to kill yourself?”
“No,” I promise him. “I honestly don’t know what I was trying to do. I’m so confused. So hurt. I’m angry and don’t know how to fix this. I don’t know what to do.”
“Not going bat shit crazy in a hotel would be a good start.” He chuckles, “I always knew the day would come when you would channel your inner Britney Spears.”
“If I would have had an umbrella it would have saved my hands.” I hold them in front of my face, showing the bandages, and immediately realize my mistake. His breath pauses, and he closes his eyes, refusing to see my scars.
Silence.
No words can remedy this.
“Bronson, I swear I’ll be fine. I just need to escape, gain some perspective. Letting him go was the right thing, but I couldn’t stand seeing him hurt. I just imploded. Remembering everything. And I miss him.”
“Are you sure you can’t work it out? It seems like there is still something there to save.”
“Not Dakota. Heath. I miss him. Things were natural but exciting with him. It wasn’t a challenge for me to open up to him. He was there to catch me when I fell. He never demanded more than I could give but gave me all of himself. I fucked up. I hurt him. I used him. But, I love him. How can I love him but feel like this over Dakota?”
“I don’t know, Binks. I don’t know.”
“He was here.”
“I know. You should have seen him. There was no way I was keeping him from you.”
“I have to get my shit together before I can see him. He deserves nothing less than all of me, but through all this, I have no clue who I am anymore.”
“We’ll figure it out.”
“No, Bronson. I have to work through it myself. My whole life, I’ve always had someone there to fix it. Dad, you, Dakota, Callie, Mom . . . now it’s my turn. If I’m ever going to be whole, I have to be the one to put myself back together. Hell, I may come out of this stronger than ever.”
“I have no doubts, little sister. Just don’t ever do something like this again.”
“I swear.”
“Let me see if I can get you sprung from here.” His phone dings, and he checks the message. “There goes my honeymoon.”
“What? I’ll be fine. I have mom to keep watch.”
“Shit.” He sighs. “I don’t know if this is the best time, but Dakota is gone. He put in for a transfer, an assignment out of state to give you space. That was the office letting me know he’s been transferred to the Denver location for a special assignment. I get no honeymoon, and my ass needs to be at the office tomorrow. I want you to come back with us.”
I nod, giving in against my better judgment, because I don’t want to cause him more chaos. I’ll stay long enough to give him some reassurance. I’ll figure out my next move. A vacation with no memories attached to it sounds good. I can work the details out once things settle in Miami.
“I’m serious, Binks. I know you said you wanted to escape, but you have to promise to stay close, get some professional help.”
I relent to his wishes again. I need help, need to learn to shift my attention from the mess I made of everyone’s life.
As much as I hate that Dakota took a special case because of me, I can’t see him until I’m stronger. I can’t bear to cause us any more strife, and I know I’m weak right now. Decisions wouldn’t be made with the frame of mind needed, and regrets would undoubtedly follow. I’d allow my family this time. I would assure them that I would be fine.
And I would be. I will be.
I have to be.
I close my eyes, whispering words I haven’t in a long time. “Daddy, help me. Guide me. Give me a sign it will be okay.” In my mind I hear his voice. No regrets, figlia.
That’s what I’ll have to do. Find a way to get to that place.
No.
Regrets.
Chapter Five
Heath
Throwing back the last of the bottle, I relish the burn all the way down to my stomach. Lynsey narrows her eyes at me then continues completely ignoring me. It’s been the same for a few weeks. Work. Drink. Commiserate. Repeat. Not a word from Bianca, not that I expected anything. I’d hoped, but that’s futile. I could ask Lynsey, but I refuse to be that guy. The one who doesn’t know when he’s lost. I’ve lost, I’ve admitted it, but it still stings. Burns like a motherfucker . . . just like the alcohol I pour into my body each night. It’s become the only way I can sleep without her haunting my dreams.
Her eyes haunt me. Emptiness resided there. I’d never seen that, and it scared the shit out of me. The ghosts that I used to see there would be a welcome sight. At least I would’ve known she had something left inside of her . . . the emptiness was nearly my undoing. The first few days I drove by the beach house and her family home. Both were empty. The alcohol doesn’t numb the memories from that day in hospital. I tried to leave, not wanting her to see me when she was like that.
Her face is pasty, damn near the color of the sheets she is lying against. She’s lost weight in the past two weeks, weight she couldn’t afford to lose. Purple circles mar her skin under her eyes, and if I hadn’t known what happened, I would think she was dying.
My steps slow. Lead has taken up residence in my feet. I feel sluggish. The path to her bed takes me twice as long as it should. I see the bandages covering her hands, blood soaked through the dressings of a couple of knuckles, but I don’t care. I gently lift one hand and kiss every single inch. I drop it and repeat the process on her other hand. I want to mak
e this moment disappear, I don’t want her to wake up and face this. I know her; she’ll hate herself, feel stupid she gave in to the turmoil coursing through her. She’ll run. She’ll bury it all and refuse to acknowledge it. I should have never left that night. I should have allowed her to use me in whatever way she needed. Maybe she wouldn’t be lying here and still be by my side.
“Why, baby? You could have come to me. Used me to deal with this. I would have listened, I would have been your punching bag.” I lean down over her, feeling her breath feather over my cheek, and I inhale. Her scent is mixed with the sterile smells of the hospital, but it’s still her. I tenderly place my ear over her heart to listen to the steady rhythm. She’s alive. She can heal. She will survive.
As much as I want to kill Dakota, erase the memories from her mind and fill them with happiness . . . I can’t.
Only she can.
She has to travel this road and come through it. Find her way to the other side. She is the one who can determine which path she takes; I can only pray I get to walk by her side. “Bianca, you’re stronger than you know. Come stand beside me, walk next to me, and embrace our future. I love you,” I whisper in her ear, brushing my lips lightly across hers.
Her eyelids flicker and open. She studies me for a moment, taking in her surroundings. “Heath?”
“Yes, baby. I’m here.”
Her silence is deafening. “Oh, God. What did I do?”
“You let it out. You started healing. Now, finish. Please.” She blinks a few times, I don’t know if it’s to focus or to clear the tears. Either way, I have to leave. If I don’t, I’ll do everything in my power to fix her. To heal her. It would be a Band-Aid because the only person who can determine if she moves on or stays a shell of herself . . . is her. It has to be her decision, and it has to be her who takes those steps.
Striding back from her bed, keeping my eyes to hers, I walk backwards to the door. Her deep intake of breath is the only warning I get before the sobs wash over her, cleansing her from the inside. “That’s it, Bianca. Keep fighting. Come back to me.” I turn and each cry is like a dagger to the heart, seizing my breath. Each step towards the door is like fighting gravity, betraying everything I want to do, but it’s everything I need to do. I can be her strength, but she needs to find her own. I can love us enough for both of us, but she has to want it. Time. That fucking four-letter word is my enemy again.
I find Bronson, Callie, and Gianna in the waiting room. “Is she awake?” Callie’s voice is quivering, and I notice she is gripping Angelo closely, trying to absorb some of his innocence.
“Yes.” I take a deep breath, “What the fuck happened? How’d she get to this point?”
“Heath,” Gianna begins. “We don’t know. She doesn’t talk to us about what’s going on in that complicated mind of hers.”
“If you wouldn’t have cut her out of your life . . .” Bronson is cut off by Callie’s stern look.
“I didn’t. She made a choice that night. She chose him, and where the fuck is he? Drunk. The cause of all this.” My mind is not able to reconcile how we got to this point.
“She didn’t choose him. Not then and not tonight. In an odd way, she is choosing herself.” Callie’s soft words are almost lost in the pounding of my head.
“She needs to talk to someone. She needs to mend herself, and allowing him to be in her life isn’t the answer.” I look each of them in their eye. “Allowing me in her life isn’t the answer, either. She needs to find her way back on her own. It’s the only way she’ll ever be whole.”
Gianna’s sobs break the tense moment. “I won’t abandon my daughter.”
“That’s not what I meant. She can have your support, but you need to make sure you aren’t doing the work for her. She needs to struggle, to finally find the answers and resolutions she’s searching for.” I leave the hospital that night, feeling more lost than ever. My instinct is to find Dakota, tear him apart limb by limb, but that won’t solve anything. She’s not mine . . . but I’m hers, and I’ll do anything to keep her safe. Even walking away.
“Are you ever going to ask me the questions you want the answers to, or are you going to continue to rot your liver every night?” Lynsey and her goddamn perception. I was fine living in my mind at the moment.
“I’ll take my chances with liver rot.”
“Stubborn ass. She’s in Miami with her family. Healing.”
I hold my glass up in a mock cheers and down the liquid. I look across my club and see it’s time to close. “You working this weekend?”
“I don’t have anywhere else to be.”
“You could go to Miami.”
“I could, but she needs time and space. Not reminders and regrets.”
“See you.” I know being dismissive of her is a dick move, but I need solace right now.
She is back in Miami.
Healing.
With him.
The unknown was better than the scenarios running through my head.
Her.
Him.
Together as one.
Planning for the future.
Every fucking thought killed me. I thought I was done bleeding over her. Not. Even. Close.
I went to lock the door after the last employee left, and a man that looked familiar came through. “Mr. De Luca?” I knew he was being polite by posing it as a question. I’d seen that ploy too many times in my life.
“You know who I am, but I’m at a disadvantage as I have no clue who you are or what you’re doing here.”
His chuckle flows from him easily, and it didn’t set me on edge. He respected the straight shooter in me. Fucking Mob at my door. “Gino Rossi. The Costa family sent me to talk to you.”
“I have nothing to say. That part of my life is over.” The Costa family is known for its ruthless endeavors. The families had abandoned Indian Shores. The respect Joseph Agosto had was notorious.
“I’m sure we could change your mind. You have something we want and would be willing to compensate you very well. You know how this works, Heath.”
The underlying threat. I was waiting for that. “I do. You know how it works too, or you wouldn’t be here asking. Agosto Family is no longer in play, so Costa is looking for new territory. Nobody here to stop him. You also know even though there is no active family, I still have many connections and can use them at any time. Now, I’ll repeat again, I want no part of what you’re offering.”
“At least let me come in for a drink. And no hard feelings, but I will tell you, the Costa family isn’t looking to take over this territory. But if we were, you’d be treated like every other patron, connected or not.”
And the not so subtle threat.
If they move on this territory, I’ll pay in cash or blood. Pay for protection or there won’t be any. “Come in. Tell me your poison.”
“Scotch. Neat.” Over the next hour, details were hammered out, promises and assurances made. Ones I could live with. I had no ties to the family, cleaned their money, and got paid. Well.
I had nothing to lose, so I shook his hand with no remorse. I resigned to this decision and thought about where I could go when I retired in ten years, because with the cut they offered me, I’d triple my revenue and pay in three month’s time.
As I climb into bed, I try not to think of how Bianca would feel about my business dealings. She’d hate it. She hated the Mob and everything it stood for. She grew up in it, and she has every right to feel the way she does. My mentality isn’t so black and white, but the life didn’t take my dad. It didn’t destroy the love of my life. She lost much more than she gained, so I can understand her bitterness. And as childish as it is, I get some satisfaction knowing I’m doing something that she would hate. Kind of evens the playing field. Tit for tat. Immature, but honest.
Two months pass, and I’m raking in the dough. Money doesn’t fill the emptiness my life has become. I was never greedy and didn’t need the money when I took the deal. I just needed to feel anything
but pain.
Recklessness.
Adrenaline.
Control.
I’ve felt all of those and none of them at the same time.
Recklessness in my decision to get in bed with the Mob. Weakness for allowing a childish moment to determine my future.
Adrenaline. A rush I get when I clean a huge transaction and don’t get caught . . . then her face flashes in my mind, and I’m immediately drained. Exhausted. Ashamed.
Control. I have none. Not in my life, my business, or her choices. I’m derailed. Spinning so out of control, I can’t seem to straighten the course.
Bellissimo Rilascio (Beautiful Release): The Family Series #3 Page 3