by Nicole Helm
She looked up at him sheepishly. “I’m ignoring it.”
Something twisted in his gut—an old familiar feeling. That there would never really be even ground because she’d always have this thing, buzzing in her pocket, interrupting.
Being more important.
“Ignoring it for how long?”
She looked surprised for a moment, and she stepped away. He’d crossed this weird line they had nonverbally agreed on. The line of her father.
Because it’s none of your business. Because you’re worth some things, but not others.
“I should get going,” he said before she could answer his question. A question she didn’t want him to ask so he wouldn’t demand an answer. Because he was a good guy who did the right thing.
And what’s that done for you so far?
Well, he was here, wasn’t he? Finally with someone who saw what he did for them as meaningful. That was a pretty fantastic place to be, regardless of all the little niggling voices in his head sometimes. “Stay as long as you like. Just make sure to lock up afterward if you leave before I get back.”
She studied him for a long time, and though her expression wasn’t blank, it was something he couldn’t read. Some emotion foreign to him.
“I’ll be here when you get back,” she said at last, with no hint as to why she’d studied him so hard.
“Then I’ll be happy to see you.”
She shook her head. “I have no idea what to do with you when you say shit like that.”
“Like what?”
“Sweet, perfect, romantic shit. No idea what to do with it.”
“I’ll start keeping it to myself.”
She fisted her hand in his shirt. “Don’t you dare.” She pressed a kiss to his mouth, one he wanted to deepen until he forgot about everything, but...
“Your family dinner.”
“Yes. That. Bad to cancel, I guess.”
“It would be. A family dinner is a nice thing to be able to have.”
He should think that. He absolutely should, but the sentiment was hard to muster.
* * *
TESS SAT ON Marc’s couch trying to find something on TV. It was weird being in his apartment by herself, but she hadn’t made the move to go home.
Mostly because she’d said she’d be here when he got back, but even more so because he said he’d be glad.
Tess found herself smiling like an idiot. She had never felt this way before. Not so quickly, so eagerly. Maybe it had something to do with the timing—being a little fed up with her current life, but more, she thought it was Marc. Just him. Them. They clicked, seemed to give each other something, if not important, at least nice.
She had a feeling it was both. But she couldn’t think about the future because that meant thinking about, well, the future. At some point she’d have to choose: Marc or reputation.
That smile-killing thought was exactly why she didn’t let her mind go there.
Her phone buzzed for the umpteenth time. She’d considered hiding it in her apartment, but on the off chance Marc called she wanted it with her. As it was going, Dad hadn’t left any messages, so it was just an uncomfortable reminder for a few seconds every twenty minutes or so.
You’re terrible, Tessie. So fucking terrible.
No. She wasn’t. He should treat her like a damn saint for all she put up with, for all she tried to do for him. He should bow at her feet every damn day.
But he didn’t. He blamed. He cursed. He did everything he could to push her far away. He didn’t really want help, or he’d take it.
Maybe it was time to tell him that. Stand up for herself. Live for herself.
He’d left a message this time. She would listen to it, determine his mood, and then if he was rational enough she would tell him to stop calling. She would tell him she was bowing out. No more of this. She didn’t deserve it, and if he straight up refused to get better, she was too old to keep believing she could change him.
This was it. She was going to cut the ties. For good. A line in the sand. The determination made her feel some weird mix of giddy and fearful, excited and disgusted. She wanted things to change and she was done waiting. Done hoping.
It was time for an ultimatum. Doubts threatened, but the excitement over having a life that was her own was too big, too great to entertain the negative thoughts.
She called her voice mail, forcefully keying in her password. Maybe he’d be good enough she could go over there and they could sit down and have a real—
“You evil bitch.”
Well, so much for that.
“You’re just like your mother. Abandon me when I need you. Don’t bother coming back, you worthless—”
She shakily hit the number for Delete before the message could finish. She knew what came next. Words worse than bitch. Threats. And she didn’t want to hear them. She wouldn’t.
Just like your mother.
He was right. Terribly, horrifyingly right. She was thinking about abandoning him. Walking away because it was too hard. Even though he was sick.
He’s sick.
Grandma had always said that. It was the only thing Tess really remembered about her grandmother. That she’d occasionally show up, clean up wherever they were living and pat her on the head. “It’s okay, Tess. He’s just sick. Someday he’ll get better.”
But it wasn’t okay, and he continued to not get better. She didn’t want to believe better was a lie, but, well, she was a cop. She didn’t ignore evidence.
Just like your mother.
The thought was so deeply unsettling, so awful, she immediately picked up her phone and dialed Dad’s number. She was not her mother. She wouldn’t give up. On anyone.
He didn’t answer. She should go over there. She had to. Don’t bother coming back. No, going over there right now would be too dangerous. He was angry. He would be violent. She wasn’t going to abandon him, but she couldn’t put herself in danger, either.
Was that what Mom had done? Escaped from danger? Escaped from a man who’d maybe always been this way, even though Tess had always believed this was a symptom of her mother leaving?
Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe this was him. Just a sick bastard.
But if that were the case, why had her mother left Tess with him?
Tess curled up into a ball, giving in to the tears. Marc wasn’t here, even though she pathetically wished he was. But he wasn’t, so she let herself cry into his couch. Let herself wallow in the damn futility of the situation.
Because she would never allow herself to be her mother, so there was no way her life would ever be her own.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
MARC LOOKED AT the cannoli on his plate and tried to force some cheer. Because Tess’s words had stuck with him. A family dinner is a nice thing to be able to have.
Because she didn’t have one.
“What do you think, Marc?”
Marc looked at his mother, tried to remember what they’d all been talking about before he’d zoned out.
“Are you feeling all right?” Mom reached across Leah’s table and put a palm to his forehead. “You haven’t been yourself. Not coming down with something, are you?”
“No, Mom, I’m fine.” The concern was nice, though.
“Good. We can’t forget how careful we need to be around Leah, even with just colds.”
So much for concern.
“Mom, I’m around the general public all the time. Haven’t keeled over yet.”
Marc glanced at Leah. Jacob had his arm around her, a gesture of comfort in the face of Mom’s overworrying.
Again Marc’s thoughts drifted to Tess. She made him feel worthwhile, not just a bearer of germs that might incapacitate Leah. A person. A person who could give her what
she wanted and needed.
Except help with her dad.
Yeah, except for that.
“Marc Paul Santino! You haven’t been paying attention at all this evening.”
Marc forced a contrite look. “Sorry.”
“How’s work?” Dad asked.
“Fine.”
“Problems with the boss lady?” Leah asked, her feigned innocence fooling Mom, but not him. He glowered.
“No.”
“So, then, one could construe that things are going well with the boss lady?”
He wanted to glower again, but the weirdest thing, Leah teasing him about Tess actually made him almost, almost laugh. A kind of sibling teasing they had never participated in much. Usually because he didn’t have a teasing sense of humor.
“Who is this boss lady you’re talking about? What is going on?” Mom demanded.
“Nothing is going on. Leah’s just talking about my field training officer.”
“A woman?”
“Yes.”
“How old is she?”
“Mother.”
“What? I’m just curious.” Mom made a big production of wiping the sides of her mouth off with her napkin even though she’d yet to take a bite of her cannoli. “Can’t I be interested in your work?”
If she had ever been, maybe. But...Mom’s interests were 1. Leah. 2. Leah getting married. 3. The possibility of Leah having children. 4. Dad. Maybe Marc’s marriage possibilities came in at number five. Maybe.
But, hey, five was something, right? Better than what Tess’s father did to her. He needed to keep reminding himself of that.
“You’re not interested in his work. You’re interested in his marriage prospects.”
“I most certainly am not!” Mom swatted Leah’s arm playfully, a smile playing at her lips.
Though part of him was irritated at the whole conversation, at the whole dynamic of everything, he couldn’t ignore the fact that Leah and Mom mending fences seemed to have made them both happier, and that was good.
Even if it only served to shove him even farther out of the fold, it was better than always trying to help bring them back together, better than comforting Mom when years ago Leah had rebuffed any involvement in her life. Better than hoping to be noticed. Because now he knew he wouldn’t be.
So this was better, even if it hurt. Because there were a lot worse things than being ignored or unvalued.
“Leah, your father wanted to look at your truck. He thought your brakes sounded squeaky this morning.”
“Well, okay. My keys are hanging by the—”
“In my pocket,” Jacob finished for her. “Because I found them lying next to your shoes.”
“Oh. Right.” She took the keys Jacob handed her and then passed them to Dad.
“Why don’t you go with him,” Mom said, giving her a nudge. “He’ll need you to back out and—”
“I can do it,” Jacob offered, but Mom waved him away.
“Nonsense. Leah and her father can spend a little time together.”
“She’s up to something,” Leah muttered, but she patted Jacob on the shoulder and then followed Dad out of the dining room.
Mom craned her neck until she was happy with how far away they were, then she got up and hurried to her purse that had been sitting on the couch. She brought it over to the table, a ball of fluttering, nervous energy.
What the hell was going on?
Mom pulled a box out of her purse. A ring box.
Why did it look vaguely familiar?
“Now, Jacob, I’m not pressuring you at all, I just wanted to offer you an opportunity.”
Jacob smiled, but Marc recognized the wide-eyed look of fear underneath it. Leah had that look a lot, only she wasn’t quite as polite in trying to cover it up.
“This is an engagement ring, or a wedding ring. However you would want to use it. Of course I won’t tell Leah you have it, and you can use it whenever works for you, but we thought it might be an option. Unless you had a family ring you wanted to use, of course.”
If it had been any other ring, Marc might have felt bad enough for Jacob to jump in and say something. Mom could be a little inappropriate when she got fixated on an idea, and while he hated to be the one to rein her in, he’d always stood up when it got really bad in the past.
He couldn’t stand up. He couldn’t move. That was...that ring was... “That’s Grandma’s ring. That’s...” His. It was his. Grandpa had given it to him after Grandma’s funeral. So it could be passed down. A Santino heirloom. For him.
“Well, you left it with us. I didn’t think you’d mind.” Mom barely even glanced at him, she was so fixated on Jacob.
Which was good, because the shock and hurt had to be written all over his face. He hadn’t left it with Mom and Dad. They’d put it in a safe-deposit box with other valuable things because he’d been fucking twelve when Grandpa had given it to him. “I have to go to the bathroom,” Marc said, hoping Mom was too busy fawning all over Jacob to hear the hoarseness in his voice, feel the palpable...
Hurt. Christ, this hurt. He was used to Mom’s inattention hurting, but not like this. Not so deep, so visceral.
He walked stiffly to Leah’s cramped half bath, but, nope, he couldn’t do this. Regardless of Jacob’s answer, he could not spend the rest of the evening here without...without saying something. Without letting the anger and the hurt seep out.
And he didn’t want to do that.
Actually, he did. He really did. That’s what scared him enough to know he needed to leave. He stepped out of the bathroom, patted his pockets down to make sure he had everything, and then—without making any goodbyes that might come out a little too rough—he slipped out the front door.
He shoved his hands into his pockets, not sure what else to do with them. He’d had to park a few houses down because the person across from Leah was having a party, and every step was heavy, stiff, as if his legs were lead.
He’d given up a lot of things for Leah, for the greater good of the Santino family, and he’d even accepted that Leah’s heart transplant as a teen necessitated it, or made it okay, or something.
But this was not okay. Grandpa had given that ring to him, and now Mom was giving it to fucking Jacob. A man who was, by all accounts, very nice, and Leah loved him and all that other bullshit, but he did not have the last name Santino.
“Marc!”
Marc paused. He didn’t want to have a conversation with Leah about leaving, didn’t want to have to lie. Or explain why this hurt. Especially to her. Or anyone. Ever. He kept walking.
But Leah’s footsteps followed. “She’s so out of line.”
“Jeez, Jacob told you already. Impressive.”
“She’s... Doing that wasn’t right, for a lot of reasons, but that ring is yours.” She hurried in front of him, and only because she was breathing a little heavy did he stop. Because the last thing he needed to do was cause her to have an asthma attack.
Yes, keeping Leah safe was ingrained in his being even though they’d spent most of the past ten years completely apart.
“She’s right, though,” Marc forced out. “No one special in my life. Might as well be yours.” Because why would he make a big deal about this? He had no one to give that ring to.
“I’m not even engaged! Jacob is not proposing. When or if he does or whatever, it’s not going to be with that ring.”
“Why not?” He didn’t look at her—he was afraid of what might pop out if he did. So he just stared at his truck beyond her shoulder. “It’s a family heirloom. You’re a Santino. Use it.”
“It’s yours. Grandpa gave it to you. I know I was sick then, but I wasn’t totally absent. I remember Grandpa giving you that ring after Grandma died.”
“Come on. I
was, like, twelve. It was nothing.”
“Why are you pretending?” she demanded, standing between him and his truck, hands fisted on her hips, looking as if she was ready to fight him if he tried to take another step.
So he did his best to look bored. “What do you mean?”
“It has to mean something to you. Why are you pretending it doesn’t? I’d never take that ring, you know. Because I know it’s not mine and it’d never feel right. So she can give it to Jacob all she wants, but he won’t be giving it to me when—if—oh, fuck, when we get there.”
“I don’t know why you’re getting so worked up about this.” Didn’t know why he should give up his pretending. It was the only thing he had.
“I don’t know why you’re not getting worked up.” She threw her arms in the air. “Get worked up, Marc. Get angry. You have the right.”
“Thanks for your permission, but I’m going home. I’ll see you later.” He stepped around her, and though he expected her to try and stop him, she didn’t.
“It would not kill you to show an emotion. To voice a controversial opinion. It would not be the end of the world.”
Marc didn’t respond, kept walking to his truck. It might not kill him, but he’d long ago learned his emotions and his opinions didn’t matter. So why fucking bother?
* * *
TESS JOLTED AWAKE when something banged. She sat upright trying to figure out what the hell was happening. She was on Marc’s couch and...
“Oh, Christ, I didn’t know you were still here.” Marc rubbed a hand over his head. “Sorry, Tess.”
Tess blinked trying to get her brain to engage. He looked...she wasn’t sure. Angry, contrite and something deeper she didn’t think she’d ever understand since he kept it so well hidden away. “Why’d you slam the door?”
“I...accident.”
“So completely unconvincing, Santino.” His expression darkened. Jeez, his family dinner must not’ve gone well at all. She wondered what made him say his parents were great and he loved them when obviously there was some kind of tension in the relationship.
She looked around the room until her eyes landed on the microwave clock visible from her vantage point. “Nearly ten. That was some family dinner, huh?”