He shifted closer, his knees on either side of my hips. “For someone who didn’t like talking much, you sure as hell know the right things to say.”
My hands drifted down to his jean-clad ass. “I try my best just for you.”
He dragged his teeth over his lower lip, gaze smoldering. Classic signs of a horny Dominic Costigan. Jesus, we were in public but I wanted him.
“What’re you trying to do?”
“Nothing,” he said, grinding against me. “Just showing you how grateful I am.”
“This doesn’t feel like nothing.”
“Just kiss me and shut up, Luke.”
So I did. I kissed him until we were both panting. And then I had to push him away from me before I fucked him right there on the bench in broad daylight with random people sporadically jogging by.
He fell back with a laugh. “Should my feelings be hurt?”
“Not in the mood to get arrested for public indecency.” I shoved the rest of my sandwich in my mouth, swallowed, then chugged half of the water before handing it to him. He took it from me with a distracted nod. He was already back in his head, worrying about his family.
I knew he felt helpless, and that made me feel helpless. If I knew he’d let me, I’d march down to Hot Bagels right now and confront Duffy Costigan. Maybe it wasn’t my business, but him not taking action was keeping Dominic in a stranglehold, and it wasn’t right. I just didn’t know what I could do to help.
Dominic and I were finally on the same page about our feelings for each other, but we didn’t live in a vacuum. I wondered how long our other problems would intrude on our relationship. And if we’d be able to plow through together or apart.
Chapter Fifteen
Dominic
When I was a kid, Thanksgiving was my favorite holiday. Everyone assumes kids only love Christmas, but it was Thanksgiving that really got me hyped. My parents had always spoken too loudly about money for me to ever have believed in Santa Claus or magically acquired presents, so to me Christmas had been a sign of coming stress and tension in the house. But Thanksgiving? Nah. Everyone loved a good meal.
If anyone said anything about the Costigans, it would be that we love food and take cooking seriously. My parents would be marinating and prepping a couple of days before the big day, and we were only ever cooking for the four of us. We were probably the only half-Irish-American, half-Italian-American family in Staten Island to not do the big shindig and invite every cousin, aunt, or uncle. That just wasn’t the way Duffy rolled.
It was the same way this year, but the vibe had definitely changed.
“Teresa, it’s not gonna cook if you keep opening the fucking oven.”
The sharp tone of my father’s voice was the first sign of a coming situation. For all that he growled and sneered at Adriana and me, Duffy typically treated our mother like she was made of glass unless they were talking about money. Now he could barely get a word out without barking it.
“I know how to cook, Duff. Calm down and go watch the game.”
It was painfully obvious that he didn’t want to watch the game. He prowled around the house, muttering to himself and flipping off light switches, while we stayed in the kitchen with our mother. She was trying hard to pretend like nothing was wrong, but her eyes were too bright and her smile was forced.
“Ma,” I said, after watching her check on the turkey for the fourth time in fifteen minutes. “We really need to talk.”
“Not today, baby.”
Adriana had retreated to her room for the time being, so I slid off the barstool to stand closer to my mother. “Ma, he told me what’s going on. About the money.”
She gave me a startled look. “Your father did?”
“Who else?”
“I told him not to tell you kids.”
I tried to feel surprised, but wasn’t. Duffy didn’t want us involved because he wanted to pretend he had everything under control, but our mother would never want us to worry.
“I’m not a kid anymore. You don’t have to protect me.” When she shook her head, lips pursed, and furiously stirred her homemade gravy, I put a hand on her shoulder. “I have money.”
“No.”
“Ma—”
“I said no.” She spun towards me, eyes blazing. “I know you’ve got money, Nicky. And I know you want to help out, but this isn’t your problem. It’s ours. We created this situation and we’ll deal with it if it all falls down around us.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
I hadn’t meant to curse or raise my voice, but it popped out of my mouth. I instantly saw the hurt in her eyes and regretted it. I regretted it even more when my father came storming into the kitchen like a bat out of hell.
“What’s going on, Teresa?”
Her hurt hardened into irritation and impatience. Again, it was the first time I’d seen them react this way to each other. Their relationship was usually rock solid and full of affection despite all the yelling and stress. Other people didn’t understand, but it had always made sense to me. Now? She looked like she wanted him to piss off.
“I’m having a conversation with my son.”
“Sounds like your son is disrespecting you.”
My hands curled into fists. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m just sick at the thought of you guys dropping the ball on this situation because of your pride.”
Duffy’s face colored. “I told you before and I’ll tell you again--this situation is not your fucking problem, boy. It’s ours. I’ll find a way out of it.”
“Oh, by looking for a loan shark?”
My mother’s eyes widened. She whipped her head around so fast I was surprised it didn’t crack. “Duffy. Tell me you didn’t.”
He didn’t seem to hear her. He was too busy glaring at me with beady eyes. “You son of a bitch.”
This was going to get bad. I knew it. Every fiber of my being fucking knew it. None of that stopped me from forging full speed ahead with the cavalier attitude of a Metro North conductor. Shoving away from the counter, I stepped closer to my father and jabbed a finger in his direction.
“You wanna talk about a son of a bitch? How about you sitting on your ass while yet another month passes us by without you figuring out how to pay the guy who owns the building Hot Bagels is in? And you—” I switched to pointing at my mother. “How could you act like the business failing is only your problem? I can get out—I know I can. I got enough money to bail on all of you right now, but my little sister sure as hell doesn’t. If they take the shop, and this house, what happens to her?”
The stairs creaked, and I knew Adriana was hovering just out of sight. Listening. And finding out everything. Damn it.
I sucked in a deep breath. “Let me help.”
“No,” they said at the same time.
“I have money.”
“I don’t need your goddamn money,” Duffy roared. “I need your pointy nose out of my goddamn business. When you were off playing soldier, you didn’t give one fuck about this family. You barely came home even when you were posted at a base an hour away. You never asked about the shop—”
“Because I thought you could handle it! I didn’t know I needed to worry!”
“You didn’t give enough of a fuck to worry,” he said. “You’ve always been more worried about the next woman who’s gonna climb on your dick.” There was a pause before he spat out, “And now I guess you’re thinking about men doing it too.”
The world stilled around me. My mother’s hand rose to her mouth.
“Yeah,” Duffy said. “Yeah, I know. This is a big island but a small community. I had to hear it from a friend of mine that my son was fucking some degenerate in the park like a pervert.”
The panic faded and was replaced by a clean slice of rage. “He’s not a fucking degenerate. He’s a better man than you’ll ever be.” Before I could stop myself, I shoved him hard enough to send him flying halfway across the kitchen. His back hit the counter, and he grunted with pain.
We stared at each other for just a second before his face turned bright red.
I saw his punch coming, but I didn’t stop it. I hadn’t expected it to turn into a two-punch combo, though. My ass was hitting the floor, and I was falling back before I could get my bearings, but then adrenaline took over. I blocked the coming blows as best I could with my ears ringing and eyes watering, and flipped us over so I was pinning him to the floor. It would have been easy to wail on him and take out all my aggression and frustration, but as soon as I raised my fist to sock him, guilt swarmed over me.
“Fuck.” My lower lip trembled. I threw myself away from him, scrabbling backward on the floor. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”
Duffy pushed himself up, breathing so hard it seemed like he was having a heart attack. He stared at me without speaking, and for several moments the only sounds in the kitchen were our heavy breathing and my mother crying. Adriana must have either retreated to her room or was still hiding on the stairs.
Using the edge of the counter, I staggered to my feet. “I’ll leave.”
“No!” My mother’s voice was choked with tears. I hadn’t realized I was bleeding until she touched my face. “Please, Nicky. Please.”
I looked at Duffy again. He’d pulled himself to his feet but was hunched over the counter with his hands pressed against his face. He was crying. Somehow I knew without hearing or seeing the tears.
“I’ll—” My hands were shaking. “I’ll just go, uh, I’ll go walk the dog. I’ll be back.”
I fled the kitchen before anyone could say anything more and was out the door with the dog before anyone could stop me. I also didn’t want Adriana to see the mess of my face. It had only taken one glance in the hall mirror to see the busted lip and rapidly swelling eye. And, like my father, my face was damp with tears.
The sky was darkening and there weren’t a lot of people on the street—they were all inside eating Thanksgiving dinner with their family. But this way, there was no one to ask me questions. No one to come to their own, likely correct, conclusions. No one to see my trembling hands and tear-streaked face.
I tried to figure out how that conversation had gone so wrong so fast, and it all came down to his comment about me and Luke. Why did he have to say that? Why did he have to ruin the one drop of happiness I had? God, why couldn’t I control my fucking temper?
My shoulders were shaking and my feet were on autopilot. I found myself turning onto Luke’s block before I could stop myself.
* * *
Luke
My stomach was going to burst, but there was still Nadia’s famous sweet potato pie, sitting on the kitchen counter, warm from the oven.
I’d invited her and Anderson over for Thanksgiving dinner with the kids. I was surprised when they took me up on it, but it was nice to observe how Anderson treated her. He doted on her, respected her, and looked at her like she’d hung the moon. She deserved that, and the best part was… she looked at him the same way.
The thought flitted through my mind—wish Dominic was here—before I laughed at myself. How quickly I’d changed from wanting zero attachments to wishing he could spend holidays with me and the kids.
But we weren’t quite there yet. He still hadn’t told Adriana about us, so my kids didn’t know. I didn’t like hiding this big part of my life from them.
I’d forbidden the kids to have their phones at the table during dinner, but Micah kept excusing himself to use the bathroom. So either he had a bladder infection or the kid was sneaking away to use his phone. I would have barked at him, but something about the concerned look on his face told me to let it go.
“I didn’t leave room for dessert.” Nadia pouted.
“I did.” Anderson rubbed his stomach, which was seriously testing the strength of his shirt buttons.
“I let you lick the bowl,” she said.
“And it wasn’t nearly enough.”
I was worried this was innuendo for something else and stood up. “I guess I’ll go get the pie.”
“I can get it,” Nadia said.
I waved a hand. “Sit, it’s fine.” I was halfway to the kitchen when there was a knock at my door. I paused, hoping it wasn’t one of the neighbors trying to borrow some more foil. They’d already asked for eggs. Holidays were out of control.
The knock sounded again. Stronger this time. With a huff, I opened the door and stared in shock.
Dominic stood on my porch, holding the leash of a yellow lab that was panting at his feet. And his face… fuck. His eye was swelling, his lip was cut, and his eyes were bright with restrained tears. He wore a pair of sweatpants, unlaced sneakers, and a T-shirt with an unzipped hoodie that was falling off one shoulder.
“What happened?” I asked, keeping my voice low.
He hiked up the sweatshirt and zipped it as if seeking warmth or protection. “My father.”
It took all my energy and memory of training to stay where I was rather than storm down to his house and punch his dad in the fucking mouth. But of course that wouldn’t do any good. It would probably make things worse.
I wanted to tug Dominic to me, wrap him in my arms and touch him the way I knew he liked. But he was holding himself away from me with his chin out, letting me know if I touched him, he’d break. And he didn’t want to break right now, on my front porch, with my family laughing down the hallway.
“Come in. We’re about to have dessert.”
“You sure? It was stupid to come over here. It’s fucking Thanksgiving. I just…” He gestured. “Fuck, I don’t know. I just had to get out of there.”
“Yeah, I’m sure. And it wasn’t stupid.” When he hesitated, I jerked my thumb at his dog. “What’s your dog’s name?”
The relieved slump of his shoulders told me I’d made the right call.
“Biscuit.”
“Biscuit?”
“Don’t judge me, owner of a cat named Popsicle.”
I laughed as I shut the door behind him. “Okay, you have me there.”
He flashed me a grin, and my heart ached as a trickle of blood spilled from his cut lip. I pointed at the downstairs bathroom. “Go clean yourself up. Uh, the kids are here. And Nadia.”
His eyes bugged out. “Your ex-wife?”
“Yeah. She came for dinner. The kids spend Thanksgiving here and Christmas with her in Hoboken.”
His fingers tightened on his dog’s leash. “Of course I meet her when I look like a fucking thug.”
“You don’t look like a thug.” I pushed him toward the bathroom. “Clean up, though. She might hug you, and we can’t have you bleeding on her designer sweater.”
“Right.”
I gestured to his eye. “Let me get you something for that.”
“Luke, it doesn’t matt—”
“Stop arguing. I’ll be there in a minute.”
He clamped his lips shut and nodded.
I watched his back as he walked with his dog toward the bathroom. His shoulders were hunched again, and his head was down. I hated seeing him so defeated.
Fuck his fucking father.
I made a detour to the kitchen and grabbed a bag of peas from the freezer. On my way to deliver it to Dominic, Nadia called from the dining room. “Who was at the door?”
“A friend. Be there in a minute. You can start serving the pie if you want.”
I didn’t wait for an answer as I speed-walked down my hallway. I had to step over Biscuit, who was lying in the doorway of the bathroom, to find Dominic sitting on the closed toilet. He held a tissue to his bloody lip.
I handed him the bag of peas. “Might want to hold that on your eye for a few.”
He nodded, still examining the floor.
“Hey,” I said, and waited for him to look up. “I’m glad you came here.”
“You have to just be saying that. I showed up all beat-up and pathetic with my dog on Thanksgiving while your family is in there eating mashed potatoes and gravy. I just didn’t know where else to go.”
The
bag of peas lay in his lap. I grabbed it, placed it on his face, then slapped his hand over the bag to keep it in place. I leaned down as he narrowed his eyes at me mutinously.
“Again with the arguing. I said I’m glad you came here, and I mean it. You’re welcome here. You know that.”
His face looked like it was going to crumble, like if I showed any more kindness or concern, he’d dissolve.
I straightened after ensuring he was going to keep the bag of peas in place. “So what do you want me to tell the kids about you being here?”
He took a moment to gather himself with a long inhale. “Just tell ’em we’re friends.” I raised my eyebrows, which made his lips tilt into a smile. “What, your kids won’t believe you have friends?”
“They have never seen us interact even when we’re in the same location.”
“Tell them we bonded over being vets or something. You’re… my silver-fox mentor. They can believe that.”
Okay, that could work. I hated lying, but this wasn’t the time for grand revelations.
Dominic stood up and moved the makeshift compress away from his face. In the small confines of the bathroom, his body brushed mine. I ran my fingers over the skin around his eye, now cold to the touch and blotchy.
“Thank you,” he said.
I gripped his hair and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Yeah. Just come out when you’re ready.”
I grabbed Biscuit’s leash. The dog came easily, trotting beside me as I walked back into the dining room where Nadia was serving dessert. My appetite was gone now.
Micah’s gaze immediately flicked down to the dog. He stood up so quickly, his chair fell over behind him. “Why do you have Biscuit?” He glanced behind me, as if expecting Adriana to appear.
“Dominic swung by. He’s in the bathroom, but he’ll be out in a second.”
Micah’s eyes narrowed. “Nicky Costigan?”
“Yeah.”
“Why’s he here?”
“Because he is. Sit down and quit asking so many questions.”
Fast Connection (Cyberlove #2) Page 16