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She walked by a few others, not giving them a second look. But finally, she came to one and stopped moving. It was a wooden glider with a matching ottoman. Slowly, she lowered herself onto it, keeping her hand on her swollen belly. She closed her eyes for a second and breathed in a deep breath.
“Oh, yeah. This is the one.” She smiled. “Load ’er up, Daddy. It’s coming home with us!”
Slowly, I open my tear-filled eyes, wiping my lashes with the sleeve of my hoodie. Sometimes, when I have those daydreams, it’s almost as if she’s right here. I feel her for a moment. Then, the moment ends, and my pain starts all over again.
Something moves outside the window, and I take a few steps closer, narrowing my eyes. On the branch of the red maple tree closest to the glass—the same red maple holding the swing that Cami insisted we have in our yard—sits a dove. A single dove, seemingly looking into the house.
For a moment, I just stare at it. We only got the chance to live here for eight months. And in those eight months, I saw many different types of birds.
Never a dove though.
I open the window, expecting it to fly away. Only it doesn’t. It simply tilts its head to the side and sways on the branch as a small gust of wind blows through. After about a minute or two, it turns away from me before flying away, out of sight.
Of all things.
A dove.
After a long-ass night of flying, a yawn rips through me. I’m dreading that in just a few hours, I have to stand through a wedding ceremony for my brother. All because our uncle and Marco are backing Gia and Walker into a corner, forcing them to have a small ceremony today before either of them can get out of it.
I glance up at the house that was supposed to be the place I called home for the years I lived here. Yet I feel nothing. No warm, fuzzy feeling for finally getting out of Italy and back here. And no real sense of relief. I guess that’s because I’m still a long way away from freedom. A lot of puzzle pieces need to move around and fit together before I can consider myself off the hook from my uncle and the Romanos. One of the hardest things about the next few days is going to be pretending to Walker that everything in my life is fine. But he needs to stay calm. To ensure he does, I’m going to play it off like I’ve been living the freaking dream.
Gross.
“Whatcha think, girl? Happy to be home?” Rossi drawls, grabbing my suitcases from the trunk.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” I mutter, gazing up at the window that is my room.
I’m no safer with Beckett than I was with Enzo. That became pretty clear when the asshole left me in Italy with a complete psychopath.
Rushing out of the house, Natasha beelines it for me. She’s thinner than she was the last time I saw her a few weeks ago. Her arms look like toothpicks, and her eyes seem more sunk into her head than I remember.
Throwing her arms around me, she pulls me against her, catching me completely off guard.
“It’s so good to see you,” she says, and I swear she sounds like she’s weeping. “I’ve been worried …” The words die in her throat, and when she pulls back, I see her eyes on Rossi. “I’ve just been worried that you’ve been overwhelmed with wedding details, and I’ve been over here, unable to help.”
Rossi doesn’t say anything; he just keeps his face stoic before dipping it closer to me. “I will take these to your room, Ms. James.”
“Thank you, Rossi.” I smile before he takes off into the house, a luggage bag hanging from each hand like they are as light as a feather.
Natasha doesn’t know that Rossi is good. And even though I know Hudson and Rossi are somehow working together in whatever they are doing, I don’t talk about that to Rossi either. And if he asked me anything about my relationship with Hudson, I wouldn’t spill anything, even though he did tell me about Hudson’s wife and baby. I have learned you can never be too cautious.
I wish I knew where Rossi and Hudson fit in the Romanos’ lineup. If they actually work for them, or maybe it started that way, and then they saw how terrible they were. Or … maybe they never were actually on Enzo and Marco’s side. Perhaps they went to Italy with the same goal as me. Take them down. Beckett too.
So many questions I don’t have the answers to. And maybe I never will. Who really knows?
“Are you okay?” Natasha speaks in a whisper now. Taking my hands and moving close. “I’m so sorry that I left you there. I … I hope you know I didn’t want to.”
Her words tell me what I already suspected. She isn’t bad. And maybe she doesn’t even want to be with someone like Beckett.
“I’m all right.” I nod. “And it’s okay. I know my uncle enough to know that it wasn’t your idea to take his twenty-year-old niece to Italy and leave her as property to a monster like Enzo Romano.” I look her in the eyes. “But now … Walker has been brought into Beckett’s scheme.”
“Yes.” She looks around nervously. “Your uncle will stop at nothing to gain power. And Walker … he’s expected to become a professional athlete soon. You understand why he was a desirable trade, right?”
Her eyes crinkle at the sides, and I’m shocked to see her skin has the ability to show feelings anymore. Beckett is always poking and prodding her with Botox and other ways to keep her youthful. But her lines? I think they make her more beautiful.
“I hate all of it, Briar. I’m so sorry I didn’t speak up sooner. I was …”
“Scared?” I ask, raising my eyebrows.
