Текст книги "Fall From India Place"

Автор книги: Samantha Young

Соавторы: Samantha Young
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CHAPTER 9

“When I’m with you it feels like everything’s going to be okay. I can’t explain it.”

I couldn’t get Marco’s voice out of my head, those words he’d said to me so long ago. They had meant so much to me then because I knew that he wasn’t the kind of guy who expressed his emotions well, and that day he’d let himself be vulnerable with me.

Despite everything that had happened, despite him leaving me and breaking my heart, I couldn’t stop those words from haunting me.

Standing alone on the small patio at the back of the house where I grew up, I stared at the ground and I fought with myself, calling myself foolish for dwelling on the sweet when it was the bitter that had done so much damage. But in a way, I guess, the bitter wouldn’t affect me so much if the sweet hadn’t been so damn sweet.

“Nanna.”

I glanced up at the now open French doors that led into my parents’ dining room to see Cole gazing at me in concern. The noise from the front of the house filtered toward me now that the door was open. Although Joss, Braden, Beth, and Luke weren’t with us because they had tickets to a children’s musical, the house was still crowded and loud. Liv and Nate had made it this time, along with Lily and January. Ellie and Adam were there too with William, and Jo, Cam, Cole, Dec, and Penny had joined us.

I smiled at Cole. Ever since Lily started calling me Nanna, Cole used it playfully. “What’s up?”

He stepped outside, closing the door.

I frowned at the thin T-shirt he wore. Although it exposed his artwork, it also exposed him to the spiky November cold. “Go back inside and put on a jacket.”

One corner of his mouth pulled up into an amused smirk. “I’m fine, Mum.”

“You’ll catch a cold.”

“I’m fine,” he insisted. “You? I’m thinking not so much.”

It was getting harder and harder to pretend with my friends and family that I wasn’t in a mood. I’d spent the last week completely discombobulated, living inside my own head. I didn’t know how I felt about Marco’s persistence and because no one else knew the whole story I didn’t even have anyone to turn to. And in the end that was my own fault.

“Hannah, seriously.” Cole’s smile slipped, a deep frown line appearing between his brows. “You’ve been quiet all week and you’re out here by yourself, looking like you have the weight of the entire world on your shoulders. I’m worried. Tell me what’s going on.”

I sighed, not wanting to piss him off with an obvious lie. “Do you remember Marco from the wedding?”

He nodded and waited for me to continue.

“I used to be in love with him.”

Cole’s eyebrows rose at that little bomb of information. “How did I not know this?”

“You and I weren’t as close back then. Jo, Ellie, Joss, and Liv know about him. We met when I was fourteen and by the time I was seventeen I was mad about him. He’s older, so we were just friends. Sometimes I tutored him. But I always wanted more. We kissed when I was seventeen” – I diluted the information – “and just when I thought maybe he felt the same way about me, he went back to America. The wedding reception was the first time I’ve seen him since then and… he told me he’s been back in Edinburgh for four years.”

My friend’s eyes glimmered with sympathy. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I wish I’d known. I would never have left you alone that night.”

“I needed to be alone,” I reassured him.

“His reappearance is obviously messing with your head.”

“No, actually he is.”

Cole’s face instantly darkened. “What does that mean?”

“It means he wants a chance to explain why he left the way he left, and he’s been turning up everywhere I go in an attempt to get me to listen.” I went on to tell him about the school, the gym, and the book club encounter.

His glower cleared. Now he just looked amused. “So, listen.”

I jerked back in anger. “No. He doesn’t deserve it.”

“Hannah, you were kids. If he’s taking the time to pursue you, then he clearly feels bad and wants a second chance.”

“He’s had that chance for the last four years.”

“Maybe he didn’t know what to say.”

“Whose side are you on?”

“Yours,” he said with a laugh. “But, Christ, you’re working yourself into knots over him when all it might take to give you a little closure is a better understanding of where his head was at. He’s offering you that chance.”

I gave him a low-lidded look of displeasure. “If I wanted a voice of reason I would have asked for it.”

Cole chuckled. “I’m just saying, unless there’s more to this than you’re telling me, I think he deserves a chance to explain.” Some dark suspicion suddenly entered his gaze. “There isn’t more to this, is there?”

I shook my head with faux calm. “No… but he is the reason I made a stupid decision back then. So… there’s that.”

Understanding settled over Cole’s features and he replied kindly, “You can’t hold your own actions against him.”

Feeling guilty for lying to Cole and angry at Marco and myself for the predicament I found myself in with my family, I nodded glumly. There was no way I’d get the right advice without my friends and family having the full story, and I had no intention of rewriting the history I had given them with the truth. “Let’s stop talking about me.” I waved the subject away. “How’s you? How’s Steph?”

He made a face. “Steph and I ended it last night.”

My lips parted in surprise. “And you’re only just telling me this?”

He shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. We were out after work last night and we bumped into some of my friends from school and she started a catfight with one of the girls.”

“Catfight?”

“Her jealousy is ridiculous. She has major trust issues. It was time to end it.”

“We all have issues, Cole. Relationships aren’t easy. Sometimes you have to work at it.”

“Agreed. But I didn’t want to work at it, so what does that tell you?”

“She’s not the one for you.”

“Exactly.” He turned and opened the door. “Now that we’ve beat our relationship issues out for the day, let’s get fed.”

“You’re sure you’re okay?” I asked, following him inside.

“I’m fine,” he promised. “I’m relieved, actually. Steph’s problems were exhausting.”

Although I wanted him to be happy and that was what mattered most, I couldn’t help but feel for Steph and sympathize with her. Cole’s words depressed me and I took them far more personally than he would ever have wanted me to. But the truth was, I was like Steph. I wasn’t insanely jealous, but my own insecurities came from a lack of trust in the opposite sex. It was crazy, I knew it was. I was surrounded by good men who didn’t stray from their wives, but what Marco had done to me and the consequences of that night had cut deep. It had left ugly scar tissue I’d been able to ignore until he was suddenly back in my life. Part of the reason I never bothered trying to find anything serious was because of that feeling Marco had left behind, but also because I suspected that most men would react to me and my issues like Cole had to Steph: with ambivalence and impatience. So what was the point in trying?

“Something’s going on,” Jo mused, staring at Liv and Nate across the table. She waved her fork at them. “What’s wrong with you?”

Cam snorted beside her. “Maybe that’s their business, sweetheart.”

“Well, it would be their business if they’d managed to pretend they weren’t fighting, but things are feeling a little icy,” Ellie added.

Liv rolled her eyes. “Nate’s being a tool.”

Nate didn’t lift his gaze from his plate as he ate. “Nate’s not doing anything,” he murmured back.

Nate was definitely doing something. He was barely talking to his wife, and anytime he was forced to, he wouldn’t look at her.

“Keep the domestics at home, people,” Cole pleaded.

“It’s not a domestic.” Liv made a face. “It’s an example of man’s inescapable immaturity.”

“Oh, do tell,” Ellie leaned in eagerly.

“I was clearing things out of the house and I specifically asked him to make a pile of things he didn’t want to give to charity and a pile of stuff he did want to give to charity. It is not my fault that he got the piles mixed up.”

“I did not.” He glared at her, finally looking away from his plate. “Why the hell would I give away every single one of my favorite T-shirts? Did you not think when you were looking through them that it was a bit strange they were all in there?”

She sniffed before responding. “I didn’t look through them. I just assumed you gave me the right pile and I put them in the charity bag and gave them to the lady who comes to collect the stuff.”

“Some of that shit was irreplaceable.”

Lily gave this cute little girlie gasp and Nate closed his eyes, wincing.

Liv scowled at him.

With a sigh, he turned in his seat to look over at Lily, who was sitting with Ellie at the kids’ table. “That’s a bad word, honey. Don’t use it. Daddy shouldn’t have and he’s sorry.”

Lily gave him this cute, serious nod of agreement. My God, was it possible to die from her adorableness?

Nate turned back to Liv. “Happy? Can we not discuss this in front of the kids?”

“Of course.” She shrugged nonchalantly, returning her gaze to her plate. “But I don’t know why you’re so upset. If you’d bothered to look in the bag I put at the side of the bed yesterday afternoon, you’d have seen I called the charity, explained the mistake, and went and collected your irreplaceable crap.” She glanced over at him. “I would like to remind you, though, that the only things in your life that are irreplaceable are sitting in this room with you.”

“Hear, hear,” Mum murmured.

Nate’s expression slackened with confusion. “You got it all back?”

“Of course I got it all back.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because now I have leverage against you anytime I screw up. I’ll just remind you of the past forty-eight hours where you acted like a petulant schoolboy because I accidentally gave your Borg T-shirt to charity.”

“It was the T-shirt I was wearing when we met,” he told her quietly.

Her eyes narrowed. “Oh, no, you’re not pulling semi-romantic excuses for your behavior out of your petushy to screw me out of leverage.”

“Leverage?” I asked. “Marriage is about leverage?”

“Yes.” Every single married person at the table answered.

I wrinkled my nose.

Ellie waved her fork at me. “When you screw up, and if you’re married you’re bound to screw up at some point, it’s good to have detailed notes of your partner’s screwups because that way you can remind them, and forgiveness for your screwup comes much more quickly. Peace reigns.”

“In this case,” Liv said, her eyes alight with triumph, “I screwed up a little but Nate screwed up more, so the next time I screw up, he’ll forgive me way faster.”

“It sounds… mature,” I answered sarcastically.

“What it lacks in sophistication it more than makes up for in effectiveness,” Adam attested.

“Married people are weird.” I turned to Cole. “Remind me never to do that.”

“To do that, you have to agree to go on a date with a man,” he reminded me instead.

I shot him a filthy look, but before I could say anything, Adam said, “Hannah, that reminds me, you didn’t tell me you knew Marco D’Alessandro.”

Jo tensed at the name, her eyes swinging to meet mine.

“What?” Adam asked softly, picking up on the sudden change in atmosphere between us.

I drew in a deep breath, unlocking my gaze from Jo’s and turning to Adam. “I didn’t realize you knew him.”

“He’s a joiner in one of our construction crews. The foreman, Tam, speaks highly of him and is absolutely convinced he’ll be foreman himself in a few years’ time. I don’t doubt it. He’s always on hand when Tam isn’t and knows almost everything that’s going on on-site. I’ve known him for a couple of years. He seems like a really good guy. Hardworking and responsible. He didn’t realize we were related. Your schoolteacher friend’s husband told him.”

“Oh,” was all I managed.

“Oh?” Adam’s eyebrows puckered. “From the way he spoke you two used to be close.”

I looked at Ellie, wondering if she’d known Adam was going to ambush me with this, but she looked just as surprised as I was. Not really wanting to discuss it in front of my parents, I shrugged. “We were really good friends in school.”

Adam still looked confused. “Isn’t he older than you?”

“A few years.”

“Well, he says he’s been trying to get in touch with you.”

Cole snorted at my side.

I ignored that, giving Adam another innocent shrug. “I got a couple of his messages.” A deeper snort from Cole. “But I’ve been really busy.”

“You didn’t tell me he was in touch,” Jo piped up, concern in her gorgeous green eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Who is this boy, Hannah?” Mum quizzed suddenly.

“How long has he been back?” Jo asked.

“He couldn’t have been a boyfriend.” Mum shook her head at the idea. “Because you would have told me, right?”

Jo leaned toward me. “When did you meet? Did he explain anything?”

“Where’s he from? Where did he go? I’m so confused. Is —”

“Hannah, will you help me with dessert, sweetheart?” Dad asked loudly, standing up.

I pushed back from the table, throwing my dad a grateful smile. “Of course.” I hurried out of the room, happy to escape the questions as I followed him into the kitchen. “You’re a lifesaver.”

Dad gave me a soft smile and began pulling bowls out of the cupboard. “No problem.”

We were silent as we dished out the trifle.

And then… “Hannah.” Dad stopped what he was doing, staring at the table, his body tense. “This Marco… he isn’t…?”

I swallowed, my heart beating hard against my chest. “Dad.” I didn’t want to lie. Not to him.

He glanced at me sharply, anger in his eyes. “Does he know?”

I shook my head.

“Why is he back?”

“He wants a chance to explain why he left so abruptly. After… he went back to America before it…”

Dad exhaled, the anger melting. “How long has he been trying to get back in touch?”

“We met at a wedding a few weeks ago. He’s been persistent ever since.”

“Before… what kind of man did you take him for? Was he kind to you?”

For some reason the question opened a flood of emotion in me, my throat constricting, my nose and eyes stinging with tears. “Yes. He was very kind to me. We met because he was protecting me from this really horrible boy that was bullying me. Anytime I missed the bus Marco would walk me home, make sure I got there safely.”

God, I’d loved him so much. Maybe the foolish, naïve kind of love, but I’d felt it deeply nonetheless.

Dad slid his hand across the table, covering mine in comfort. I looked up into his eyes. “Maybe he deserves a chance to explain, then.”

I was surprised. “I thought you’d be angry at him.”

“I’m still angry at his choices, but I can’t be angry at him for what happened afterward. He didn’t know what you went through, Hannah. If he explains and it’s a terrible explanation, we can go back to being mad at him. But maybe he’s got a reasonable explanation for leaving you.”

“I don’t know how you can be so rational.”

“Well,” Dad said with a sigh, “I didn’t know him, so I don’t understand everything that happened. What I do know is that I have a strong daughter who’s rarely fazed by anything. If this man knocks you off balance a bit, then maybe there’s something to that. When I met your mum I was knocked on my arse.”

I laughed gently and nudged him with my shoulder. “All these happily married couples are making you soft, Dad.”

“Nah, that’s just old age,” he joked, and grabbed a couple of bowls to take through to the dining room.

“Dad.” I stopped him from leaving. “Don’t tell anyone. No one else knows.”

Dad nodded slowly. “Okay, I won’t. But I want you to ask yourself why you’re protecting him if you don’t care about him?”

More confused than ever, I watched my dad walk out of the kitchen, pondering his question. No answer came. With shaking hands I picked up a couple of bowls and ventured back into the dining room, glad when I got there that Marco was no longer the topic of conversation.

CHAPTER 10

A lull in the discussion during the night’s adult literacy session made me smile. “You know, for people who complain that this is the worst part, you certainly had a lot to say.”

Duncan smirked while the others laughed. With the exception of Lorraine, who’d barely said a word all class.

I’d found that a good way to help along the class reading skills was to have them read something for homework and come in and chat about it as a group. These guys had very basic reading skills, but they were coming on by leaps and bounds. I found that in discussion they unearthed a better understanding of the words they’d read because what one didn’t understand, another did, and they helped one another out without even realizing it.

“Well done, folks.” I stood. “Read chapter six for next week, please, and I shall see you all then.”

We bade one another a good night, the class filtering out until only Lorraine remained. Since the night I’d spoken to her, she’d turned up for every class. Still, she stubbornly refused any one-on-one assistance, and the reading challenges I set them made her uneasy. I’d quickly discovered that she was the kind of woman who preferred someone to be straightforward with her, rather than pussyfooting around her.

“Is it me?” I asked her.

Her head jerked up from her bag and she frowned at me. “Is whit you?”

“Am I the reason you don’t want to speak up in class?”

She shrugged.

I raised an eyebrow. “It’s not the others. It can’t be. You’ve seen them struggle, and you’ve witnessed how patient and kind the class is with one another. You yourself have shown patience. Kindness. So if they’re not the ones who make you uncomfortable, who make you afraid, is it me?”

“I’m no afraid,” she snapped.

I strode toward her and gently took the book out of her hands. Opening it up to the chapter we’d just been discussing, I handed it back to her. “Read the first two sentences out to me.”

Lorraine looked at me incredulously. However, I saw what she was so desperately trying to hide. I saw the fear.

She snatched the book out of my hands and pulled it toward her face. She swallowed. Hard. With painstaking care she began to read to me. Almost near the end, she faltered on a word. Glancing up at me warily, she flushed.

I kept my face perfectly blank. “Sound it out.”

The anger flashed in her eyes and yet she looked back at the page. “It’s no a word.” She frowned. “Fuh-ri-gid,” she said, pronouncing it almost like “frigate.”

“Do you remember the rules for hard and soft g’s? Usually, when g meets a, o, or u it’s a hard g. The guh sound. Like gap. But usually when it meets e, y, or an i, it’s a soft g. The juh sound.”

Lorraine stared at the word. “It’s an i. Fuh-ri-gid. Fuhrigid.” Her eyes scanned the sentence that preceded it and the tension melted out of her as she said, “Frigid.” She shrugged. “I always thought that word wis spelt wi a j.”

I took a step back from her. “That was well done.”

She ducked her head. “Aye, whitever.” Abruptly she grabbed her bag and brushed past me. “See ye next week.”

I stared after her in thought for a while after she left the room. Lorraine was definitely rough around the edges, lacking in good manners and social graces, but I couldn’t help but respect someone who pushed through despite her fears.

With my heart pounding and my stomach roiling with waves of nausea, I settled onto my window seat in the living room, staring out at the dark, glistening street. Pools of light glimmered here and there where streetlights glanced off puddles made from the recent rainfall. I clutched my phone in my hand and sucked in a deep breath.

Scrolling through my recent call list I found the number, and with Lorraine’s perseverance and Dad’s question at the forefront of my mind, I pressed the CALL button.

It rang three times before… “Hannah?” Marco answered, pleasant surprise in his deep voice.

“Hi,” I replied quietly, willing my heart to slow. “I…”

His voice was filled with a concern I remembered all too well as he asked, “Are you okay?”

I exhaled slowly. “I’ve decided I do want to know why you left me that night.”

He was quiet for a moment and I was just about to break the silence when he said, “I want to ask why the sudden change of heart, but I’m not going to in case I scare you off. I’m glad you called, but I’d rather discuss it in person. Would that be okay with you?”

“If I say no you’re only going to turn up at my next dental appointment, right?”

He laughed quietly, a seriously delicious sound that made my scalp tingle. “Whatever it takes.”

“I still can’t believe you came to my book group,” I muttered.

“It got you to call me, didn’t it?”

“Tread carefully, Mr. D’Alessandro,” I warned.

He chuckled. “Fine. I’ll be good… if you invite me over to your place tomorrow night to talk.”

Trepidation shot through me at the thought of us being alone in my flat. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Hannah, what we have to discuss is personal. What I have to tell you is personal and I don’t particularly feel comfortable with the stranger behind us in a café listening in.”

I processed that, and unfortunately had to admit that he was right. I didn’t want a stranger listening in on us either. “Fine,” I grumbled, giving him my address. “Six o’clock.”

“Does it include dinner?” he asked hopefully, a boyish cheekiness in the question that surprised me.

“We’ll see.” I hung up without saying good-bye.

I felt much too hot all over and suddenly restless as adrenaline pumped through my body. I hadn’t felt this awake in a long, long time.

School was a blur. I was so preoccupied with the thought of Marco being at my place that night that I don’t even know how I got through the lessons. Somehow I made it, and with my stomach a jumpy, jittery mess, I hurried home after work and began preparing dinner. I didn’t know what to cook because I didn’t want Marco to think I was trying to impress him, but I also didn’t want to poison him with something he was allergic to.

I’d settled on pasta and salad. Surely you couldn’t go wrong with pasta and salad.

It went against the manners of being a good hostess (which my mother had ingrained in me from the age of three) not to dress the table when I was having someone over for dinner, but I also didn’t want Marco to think this was something it wasn’t.

Who was I kidding? I didn’t even know what this was.

I changed from my work clothes into a pair of well-worn jeans and a long-sleeved thermal top. Twisting my hair up into a messy bun, I looked in the mirror and nodded, pleased with my reflection. The jeans made my arse look great, the top was form-fitting and made my boobs look good, but overall the outfit said “I’m just hanging at home and I could give a shit what you think about me.”

“Perfect.”

I spun around, marching out of my bedroom toward the kitchen, and my door buzzer sounded, drawing me to a halt.

I was going to throw up. I was going to upchuck all over my nice hardwood floors.

“Deep breaths,” I coached myself, turning back toward the door.

“Hello?” I asked upon lifting the receiver.

“It’s Marco.”

Yup, definitely going to upchuck. I pressed the entrance door key, letting him into the building.

With blood rushing in my ears, I attempted to prepare myself to see him again, and drew on my powers of indifference. Opening my door, I listened to his footsteps as he climbed the stairs to my flat.

I saw his head appear as he ascended the staircase and my stomach dropped. His eyes lifted from his feet to my face as he climbed higher, and he gave me a small smile in greeting. Damn it. Why did I have to be so attracted to him? Why did I have to have so many good memories of him?

His gaze drifted down my body and back up again, and I got the distinct feeling he wasn’t disappointed by my outfit. Not at all. Pretending I didn’t give a crap, I stepped back. “Come in.”

He moved inside, making me feel tiny, and despite his defection, safe. “Did you get taller?” I grumbled, moving away from him and the attractive cologne he was wearing.

He shut the front door behind him and shook his head. “Not that I’m aware of.”

As my eyes took him in, it occurred to me that it had nothing to do with his height. It was his muscle. I gulped at the sight of his biceps, nicely displayed in the form-fitting hooded Henley he was wearing. “This way,” I almost wheezed, abruptly turning my back at the sight of his amusement.

He followed me into the sitting room, where I’d set the dining table at the back of the room. “Nice place.” His eyes hit the piles of books that I had in nearly every corner, and he gave me that familiar half smile that made me feel things I didn’t want to feel. “You need bookshelves, though.”

Ignoring that comment, I gestured to the table. “Take a seat. I’ll get dinner.”

Marco raised an eyebrow. “You cooked after all?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Only because I’m hungry.”

“Of course.”

Pissed that I was doing a very shitty job of coming across as being unaffected by his presence, I marched out of the room and into my kitchen, where I clutched the edge of my countertop, taking in a deep breath.

You can do this. He’s just a boy. He’s just a boy. He’s just a boy. I chanted that mantra over and over in my head while I grabbed the bowls of pasta and salad.

“This looks great,” Marco said after I strode back into the sitting room to dump them on the table.

I made a harrumph sound and then grunted, “Beer?”

His lips quirked up at the corners and I could see the laughter dancing in his stunning eyes. “Sure.”

I returned with the beer, slammed it down in front of him, and then shoved myself ungracefully into my seat opposite him. I gestured to the bowls. “Eat.”

Not hiding his amusement any longer, Marco grinned as he reached for the salad bowl. “You seem agitated.”

No, do I? Outwardly, I just shrugged. “Well, I’m fine.”

His look said he didn’t believe me for a second. I took the salad bowl from him, dumping vegetables onto my plate as he scooped pasta al pomodoro onto his own. We were silent as we served ourselves and started eating.

I felt like any second I might just jump out of my skin and throw my skeleton arse out of my bay window. I kept waiting for him to start speaking, to start explaining himself, since that was the whole point of him being here in my sitting room, eating my food and affecting my girlie bits. Finally, I’d had enough of his seemingly comfortable silence. “Four years?” I snapped, glaring at him.

Marco contemplated me, appearing to memorize every inch of my face in a way that made my skin feel hot and tingly. He laid his fork down and sat back, twisting the cap off his beer with little effort. He took a sip, his eyes never leaving me. “Maybe we should start with the night at India Place.”

Unexpected pain shot across my chest at the mention of India Place. It stole my breath, that pain. Ever since I’d lost my virginity to Marco, the pain and humiliation of that night had really only ever belonged to me, because he hadn’t been around to face afterward and no one else knew about it.

Discussing it with him for the first time made it feel like it had just happened.

I must not have been able to keep that pain out of my expression, because Marco tensed, and something like regret flickered in his gaze.

He set the beer down, his entire focus on me. “I want you to know that being with you that night was one of the best nights of my life.”

I froze at that shocking confession, only for anger to quickly unfreeze me. “Don’t you dare try to sweet-talk me with bullshit and pretty words. I just want the truth, Marco.”

His features hardened. “That is the truth. You can be pissed off at me all you want, but don’t question what I tell you tonight because I’ve never lied to you.”

“For all I know.”

“No, you do know. I’ve never lied to you, Hannah. Not once.”

“Well, if that night was so amazing how come you couldn’t get out of there fast enough afterward? How come you left me lying there in that skeezy flat, feeling used and absolutely worthless?”

Looking pained by my questions, Marco suddenly drew a hand down his face.

I waited.

“I hate myself for making you feel that way,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

My heart was beating so hard against my chest it hurt. “Why, then?”

Understanding my question, he sat back in his chair, his jaw taut. “You were Hannah. You were this great girl who made me laugh and looked at me like I was worth something, and every year you got more beautiful.”

His words made my heart flip over in my chest.

“You were too good for me. I knew that the first time I walked you home. Pure class from the tips of your fingers to the tips of your toes. Not for me.”

“I don’t understand.”

Marco exhaled heavily. “I told you I didn’t get along with my grandfather or my uncle. And what I meant was that I really didn’t get along with them. From the moment I could walk Nonno made sure I thought I was a piece of scum, worthless. He told me I was nothing and that I would never amount to anything. He said I was just like my mom and dad, and that every life I’d touch, I’d ruin. He drilled that into me.”

I couldn’t help myself. Even after everything, I was hurt and angry on his behalf when he said those things. “He sounds like a bitter old bastard.”

Marco gave a huff of laughter. “You’d be right. But he was the only father figure I had. So, despite Nonna’s attempts to soften my grandfather’s blows, I believed him. It got so I was almost trying to prove him right. I grew up with this kid in my neighborhood. His stepdad was kind of a prick to him too. We were friends mostly because of our mutual hate for them. As we got older, Jamal started doing stupid shit like breaking into people’s homes, stealing stuff, vandalism, and all that crap, and I went along for the ride. Then when we were almost sixteen he got recruited into a gang.”

My eyes widened. “A gang gang?”

“A gang gang.” Marco’s eyes were dark with the memories. “He told me some of the stuff they made him do and it pissed me off, but at the same time I kept thinking how much it would really piss off Nonno if I got mixed up in that shit. I think the only thing that stopped me from taking it that far was Nonna and the rest of our family. Still, I did think about it.

“But then one night I was hanging out with Jamal and a couple of the guys from his crew, and they were trying to convince me to join. They waylaid this neighborhood girl Jamal liked.” His gaze drifted off over my left shoulder and I knew he was re-seeing it all. “I didn’t want to believe it… that he was going to rape her, but he started touching her and she was crying and he wouldn’t…” His eyes flicked back to me, hard now. “I jumped him and she got away, but his friends started in on me and it was three against one. I think if Jamal hadn’t convinced them to stop they would have killed me. As it was, I ended up in the hospital and I told my grandparents what had happened. That’s when they got on the phone to my uncle Gio and somehow convinced him and Aunt Gabby to adopt me and bring me over to the UK to get away from it all. They tracked my mom down and got her to sign the papers and by the time I turned sixteen it was all done and I was suddenly in Scotland.”