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Epilogue I
Marco
Two weeks later
“Are you sure you’re ready?” Nick smokes a cigarette but keeps one eye on the front of the house, afraid Sophia might catch him.
“Yes.” I nod and stuff my hands in my pockets. I’ve already dropped Evangeline at school, and I’ve planned the day so I can get my business done and pick her up right on time.
“And you want to do it alone?” He takes a drag, then jumps a little when the wind blows past, his eyes going to the front door again. This man has lived his entire fucking life without fear in his heart. But when it comes to Sophia, he is genuinely terrified of getting caught smoking.
“I have to do it alone.”
He nods. “Yeah.” Dropping the butt, he kills it with his shoe, then picks it up again and hides it in a planter. “She looks.” He shrugs and joins me again. “Can’t be too careful.”
I can’t disagree. Sophia can be a handful, especially now. It’s like she gets stronger every year they’re together. I’d hate to see how she rules with an iron fist once she’s older. Yeesh.
“You have my blessing.” He holds up a finger. “No witnesses. Nothing to come back on you. Got it?”
“Got it.”
He smiles. “Proud of you, man. Protecting your woman is the biggest step. The most important thing in your life. Family is what matters. It’s the only thing that matters.”
“Thanks, Nick. I’ll—”
The front door opens, and Sophia peers out, her eyes narrow. “What are you two doing?”
“Nothing, cara mia.” Nick walks to her, his arms open.
“Were you smoking?” She points at him.
“What? What sort of accusation is that to make against your loving husband?”
“You didn’t answer my—” She squeals as he tosses her over his shoulder and carries her inside.
I just shake my head and jump in my car.
The drive is about an hour, but I spend the time checking for texts from Evangeline. When I pull up in front of yet another prep school, I know I’m in the right place. Expensive cars dot the student lot, and the lacrosse team is practicing on the field. Good.
I step out of the car and stride over, then lean on the fence. They keep playing, running and yelling, their breath white puffs in the air. But then one of them falls. I know who it is, because he gets up and takes off running.
With ease, I jump the fence and follow him. The other players just stand and stare at each other as I dart past. Trent may be quick, but I’m no slouch.
He makes it over the fence on the far side of the field, but I hurdle the damn thing, then run him down as he tries to cut back toward the school.
Falling into a heap, we roll a few times, and he starts swinging. But I get the better of him quickly, wrapping my forearm around his throat and squeezing. He still struggles, but then his flailing slows. I throw him off me, then get to my feet.
“Get up, Trent.” I shake out my fists, more than ready.
His lacrosse pals start yelling and climbing the fence to get to us.
He looks up at me. “Fucking Davinci trash. My boys are going to kick your ass.”
“I hate repeating myself. Now get the fuck up.” I flex my fists, rage riding me hard.
“I don’t have to do—”
I reach down and yank him to his feet. He screams. Legit screams.
