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“I do. Mrs. Peterson is redoing her living room and wanted to pay homage to our beautiful state. Her words, not mine.”
Ella could have figured that out without the warning label. She didn’t recall Marco ever describing something as beautiful. Nice, sturdy, good craftsmanship… that was about as far as his descriptions went.
“This piece deserves to be the focal point of the room. I hope she knows that.”
“I don’t ask questions,” he said.
Ella walked around the piece, examining it further before meeting Marco’s eyes.
“He seems good,” Ella said, shrugging. She knew bringing their dad up was walking on a tight rope in a windstorm, but she had to keep trying.
Marco ran a hand through his hair and let out a breath. “I don’t care and you know that.”
“I just keep hoping that maybe one day—”
“It’ll never happen,” he cut her off. “So let it go.”
“But he asks about you,” Ella said in a desperate attempt to make Marco see beyond his blinding rage of the past. Every time she visited their father, he asked about her brothers Marco was the one he worried about most. “He—”
“Ella! I don’t give a shit. If he really fucking cared he wouldn’t have got his ass thrown in prison in the first place.”
“He was just trying to keep us afloat.” Their mother had died and he still had two kids at home he had to take care of. Between their grieving and the funeral costs, cash was running low. He was late on the mortgage and the electric company was threatening to turn off their power. He was too proud to ask his father for help and maybe that was his biggest downfall.
“There are other ways to make money. Selling drugs out of his own home where his fucking kids live is not one of them. He put you and Tony in danger and I’ll never forgive him for that. So stop making excuses for him.”
“I’m not.”
The veins in his neck bulged beneath his tanned skin, and tension tightened his jaw. “You are, and I’m getting really tired of having this conversation, so please, just let it go.”
Ella could push buttons as well as her entire family, but she also knew when it was time to pull back. This wasn’t the first time she tried to reason with Marco, and it wouldn’t be the last, but for now she’d let it rest.
“Sorry,” she said. “I just want us to be a family again.” There was nothing wrong with admitting the truth. He couldn’t get mad at her for that.
“Come here,” Marco said as he draped his arm over her shoulder and pulled her in for a hug. He kissed the top of her head. Marco was tough, the town bad boy growing up, but when it came to her, he was nothing but a loving, concerned brother who would go out of his way to protect her. “I know you want that, but I just don’t see it happening.” She could hear the remorse in his voice, and she wondered if it was because he felt he was letting her down or if somewhere deep inside of him he had the same wishes as she did.
“I’ll continue to hold out hope,” she said.
Marco laughed. “Of course you will. Always been the optimistic one in the family.”
She poked his stomach. “Someone has to be.”
He moved quick and gave her a noogie before she was able to get away. “Jerk.”
“Someone in the family has to be.” He smirked. “And I seem to be the best at it.”
She wanted to tell him he wasn’t, but out of the four of them he held that honor proudly. Tony was the youngest with a kind gentle soul, Enzo the oldest, respectful with an old soul, Ella ruled by her heart more than her head and then there was Marco, outspoken and not afraid to hurt feelings, but while he called himself a jerk, in Ella’s eyes he was far from it.
He was the brother who pushed aside his opinions and lent her his car so she could go visit their father, the one who would defend her honor until his death, and who would give her a hug on the shittiest of days.
She had no idea what she would do without him.
“We love you anyway,” she said. “I don’t want to keep you from your work so I’m going to head out.”
“Do you need a ride back to town?” he asked.
She walked over to the far wall and grabbed the handlebars of her mint green cruiser with a dark tan seat and matching hand grips. “I have my bike.”
“Let’s go” he said, retrieving the keys from his pocket and turning toward the door.
