Page 37 of The Saint

Rolly’s hand touched my shoulder as he leaned in, dropping a glass of chocolate milk in front of me. His face was pinched, eyes clouded and dark. My heart pounded in my chest, but I tried to turn my attention back to Carmen.

But I didn’t get a chance to finish. She was out of her chair, pulling me to her as if I’d fallen off the tree swing in their backyard and gotten hurt.

“No, sweetheart,” she soothed, hands gripping my shoulders. “You have nothing to apologize for. No child should have to go through what you did. Your parents never should have—”

“Mom.” Rolly’s voice was a hard snap, and my teeth clenched as the muscles in my shoulders grew tight. Heat raced through me, and I snagged the glass of milk off the table and swallowed half of it down.

Which was the wrong thing to do. Because when I looked up, Rolly was standing behind a painting of Queenie and Paulo D’Angelo.

Immediately, Carmen’s attention was drawn away from me. And rightfully so. The picture was a thing of beauty, and not only because of its subjects. Queenie glowed, the smile on her face lighting up her eyes.

It was as if she were right there in the flesh, not just a painted picture.

And the same went for D’Angelo. Where Queenie was a shining light, her father was danger and darkness. Rolly captured them both so well, the tension in my shoulders left me, only to creep up and strangle my throat.

“My God, Rolly, it’s beautiful,” Carmen whispered, fingers trembling at her lips. While she gushed over the magic Rolly had created, I choked down the milk in my mouth and tried to keep my stomach from spilling what I’d just swallowed.

Because he wouldn’t look at me. He stared at the wall above the table as if I weren’t even there. Even after Carmen sat back down at the table, even as she returned to questioning me about my apartment and my brothers and what I’d done in the city since I arrived, the man I’d spent my day with refused to look my way.

I felt heavy and numb, my eyes burned the way they did after sitting around a campfire. Any hope I’d had of trying once again to be friends with this boy seemed to slip away before my eyes.

“Are you sure you’re doing okay?” Carmen asked as I spun the empty chocolate milk glass in front of me on the table.

“Fine,” I told her, then tried to clear the thickness from my throat. “It’s been a long day.”

She gave me a pitying look and reached across the table to put her hand on mine. “I should probably go, leave you two alone. Lorenzo will be home soon so we can head over to Paulo’s.”

“Let me help you with this,” Rolly said, grabbing the painting from the bed where he’d wrapped it up in thick brown paper. And once again, his eyes stayed away from mine.

As if he couldn’t stand to look at me.

As if he couldn’t wait for me to go.

Carmen hugged me before we left the apartment, and again when we’d reached the street. She took my hands in hers while Rolly loaded the painting into the back of her car, giving me a gentle squeeze.

“If you ever need anything,” she told me, voice lowered like the dying sun, “I want you to call me. I’ll never forgive Devorah and Eli for what they did to you and your brothers. You’re as much family to me as Rolly and Lorenzo are.”

Shifting uncomfortably, I gave her a tight smile. “Of course,” I told her, because I’d do anything to get away. “Take care.”

After one last hug, I turned and walked away. I didn’t stop when the car door slammed shut, or when the engine revved, and the vehicle pulled out into traffic. I was at the corner when footsteps pounded on the pavement behind me, and I was about to step into the street when a hand gripped my arm.

“Where are you going, David?” Rolly spun me around like I was a rag doll, pulling me away from the street. Those slate-blue eyes of his glared down at me as if I’d done something wrong. Like I was the one who ignored him the entire time Carmen was in the room.

“Away from you,” I spit out, feeling my blood boiling in my veins.

“What the hell for?”

“Seriously, Rolly? Your mom isn’t here, so you can drop the act. You obviously don’t want me here, so I’m doing you a favor and leaving.”

Rolly’s grip tightened on my arm, and when I tried to turn away, he spun me back to face him again.

“Let go of me!” I howled, smacking my hands into his broad chest.

He swatted me away like a fly, making me hit even harder. This time, his grip on my arm broke free, only for his hands to clamp down on my face.

One palm covered my mouth, the other gripped the back of my head, pulling me upward so my feet barely touched the ground.

Rendering me mute and immobile at the same time.