“You want to give me grief about Lacey when you’re the one who put me in that situation—who keeps putting me in that situation. You’re my father. You knew how I felt about her.”
I shove at his hand, but his grip tightens around my shirt.
“I get I’m a prospect and I gotta take shit for a while, but you keep throwing me under the bus, Dad. None of the other guys are being tested morally every fucking day of their lives. You got Bash shadowing Uncle Jack and the fucking guy in jail has seen more action behind bars than I’ve seen in nine months. I don’t want any special treatment; I just want to be treated fair. I’m fucking human. There’s only so much I can take.”
My voice cracks at the confession. My eyes pleading with him to see that I’m holding on by a thread. If he’s smart, and we know he is, he’ll read between the lines. He’ll see this has nothing to do with Lacey, and everything to do with me falling for Carrie.
He stares at me quietly for a moment, then releases my shirt.
“Al, honey, I’m getting tired…”
I hang my head at the sound of Maria voice, looking at her from the corner of my eye. She pauses in the doorway, her eyes moving from Dad to me. “Is everything okay?”
No.
And so long as I stay in this house with Carrie, it’s going to get worse.
Slicing my gaze to my father, I pin him with a glare and rise from my chair.
“I’ve had enough family time for one day,” I announce, my tone bitter as I look towards Maria. “Where’s Carrie?”
“She went upstairs to wait for Frankie’s call.”
“Right,” I mutter.
Where else would she be?
I give my father one last glance.
“Lock the door on your way out.”
I give Maria a kiss on the cheek and leave them to it. When I finally get to my room, I hear Carrie’s muffled voice. I lay on my bed and reach for the remote. Flipping to Prime, I turn on the next episode of Chicago P.D., raising the volume to tune out the sound of her voice and the door downstairs when it slams shut.
I make it through fifteen minutes before I hear Carrie yelling. Like a complete tool, I mute the T.V., listening as she just about interrogates my brother.
She’s teetering too. I’m just not sure if it has anything to do with me, or everything to do with her being pregnant and apart from Frankie.
“Why aren’t you Facetiming me? Where are you? Who are you with?”
The last time they fought, I paid the price. I ain’t trying to break another hand, so I turn the volume back up on the T.V. and mind my fucking business. Another five minutes passes and the yelling stops.
Two minutes after that, my door opens.
Thirty seconds go by and the next thing I know, she’s crawling into my bed.
Another ten and she’s reaching for the remote, rewinding the episode to the beginning.
A comfortable silence settles between us, but I still don’t trust myself to look at her. I know what she looks like in my bed, the way her hair fans out over my pillow—I think about it all the fucking time.
“He’s drunk, and he’s at a party,” she reveals quietly, her eyes on the screen too.
“And here you are,” I reply.
My tone isn’t bitter, though, if anything I’m just stating the obvious. She pauses the episode and turns to face me.
“That’s not why I’m here,” she argues.
Look at her stating the obvious too.
“You know, I heard you earlier when you were talking to your dad. Maria went to the bathroom and I couldn’t help myself. I’m nosy.”
“Nosy and mouthy.”
“A favorite combination of yours?”
Sighing, I roll onto my side. I prop my head on my hand and stare at her for a beat, my fingers itching to touch her hair. To any part of her, really. Instead of giving into my urges, though, I nod and give her my truths.
“I’m a fan,” I admit.
“Is Lacey those things?”
I think about that for a second. Lacey is assertive at times, but not really mouthy and she doesn’t really stick her nose in other people’s business. The girl has enough drama in her life to be concerned with anyone else’s.
“No,” I reply as she pulls her lip between her teeth.
“Why are you asking?”
“I told you I overheard your conversation…” her voice fades as she covers her face with her hands, muffling a groan. “Fine, I guess I’m wondering if we’re alike,” she says, pulling her hands away.
My response is quick.
“The only thing the two of you have in common is that you are both pregnant—well, were. She gave birth.”
“I heard that too. I also heard that you haven’t gone to see the baby.”
Christ, not her too.
“Carrie, it’s not a big deal.”
“Do you still have feelings for her?” she blurts.
Swallowing, I shake my head.
“You know the answer to that question,” I say.
Losing my internal battle not to touch her, I reach out with my free hand and run my index finger down the bridge of her nose. Finishing the descent, I move to her lips, slowly tracing them with my finger.
“Nico, what are we doing?” she whispers against my touch.
“Walking the line, Green Eyes, it’s what we’ve been doing for the last three months,” I say huskily, pulling my hand back.
She swallows and meets my gaze.
“I thought I was going to flip the table when everyone started talking about you and that girl from the gym,” she confesses quietly, and I watch as she blows out a ragged breath. “I’m not really the jealous type, but then again, I’ve never had a reason to be jealous. The one guy I wanted, I got.” She shakes her head and looks back at me.
“You still got him, Carrie. Just because he’s out partying—”
“Did you hear the first part of all of that? I’m not saying I’m jealous Frankie’s out partying while I’m sitting here like a Beluga whale, I’m trying to tell you I’m jealous because there’s a girl named Tara who had you and she’s probably beautiful and fit—I mean, you banged her in a gym. I know I should be jealous of whatever it is Frankie’s doing, but I’m not and if I’m being honest, I’m also a little green when it comes to everyone talking about Lacey like she’s the great love of your life or something.”
“Carrie—”
“She’s not. The great love of your life wouldn’t have you standing on the edge of an overpass. I want you to know that. Remember it.”
For fuck’s sake, she’s killing me.
“I know we can’t do anything about this thing between us, and I’m starting to think the only reason you feel anything towards me at all is because you’ve been stuck with me for three months. It’s like being stranded on a desert island with one person. You don’t really want that person, you’re just out of options, but the good news is your time on the island is almost up. Once this baby is here, you’ll be free to find the girl who does deserves you.”
Tears fill her eyes as she reaches out and touches the scar on my chest. I raise my own hand and cover hers.
“What do you want from me Carrie? You want to hear me say it? For what? So we can both be miserable?”
Her eyes lift to mine and my fingers lace with hers over my chest.
“I don’t want you to say anything…”
“Liar. You think I didn’t know that you were jealous today? I saw your face, it’s why I put my hand on your leg.”
“Is that the only reason you put your hand on my leg?”
“See, you want me to say it,” I say. “But what happens when I do? Are you going to make the first move, huh? Because that’s the only way this happens.”
I won’t cross the line. I won’t be the guy who takes his brother’s girl.
But if she came to me, if she took that leap…well, I don’t think I’d push her away.
I’m just not that strong.
It’s not something either of us have to worry about because Carrie doesn’t leap. She doesn’t even respond.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
-Nineteen-
Carrie
Are you going to make the first move…
I didn’t answer Nico’s question, but I don’t think he was expecting me to either. He took the remote from me, rolled onto his back and turned the episode we were watching back on. Still pretending to watch it, I sneak a glance at him.
His arms are folded behind his head and his eyes are directed towards the television. He looks completely at ease. Natural. Like a man looks when he’s relaxing after a long day. Soon, I won’t be privy to these moments.
I look back to the television.
…that’s the only way this happens.
I shake my head.
No, I can’t.
“Christ, Carrie, you even think loud,” Nico mutters causing me to turn my head.
“What?”
“You got something you want to say?”
“No,” I say quickly. “I…I…” I what? Was trying to work up the nerve to do something I know I shouldn’t—something I’ll only regret. If I cross the line with Nico, I’m not just hurting Frankie. I’m hurting every one of the Scotto’s. I’m putting them all in another impossible situation and for what?
“Go put your shoes on,” he says, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He stands and moves to his dresser, tagging a baseball hat from the top of it. Turning to me, he tosses it onto the bed before reaching into a drawer for a t-shirt. “Put that on too.”
“What? Why?”
“Because you and I both need to get the fuck out of this house for a little.”
“But…”
“We’ll be careful,” he says, pulling the shirt over his head. “It’ll be our little secret.”
He winks and I cock my head to the side, eyeing him suspiciously.
“Don’t we have enough of those?” I ask him.
“What happened to us being each other’s gatekeepers?”
I did say that, didn’t I? Drawing my lip between my teeth, I pretend to contemplate the idea of throwing caution to the wind. There’s really nothing to think about, though. I’m not throwing away a chance to leave the house. Aside from doctor visits, I haven’t gone anywhere and besides, if we stay here, we’ll be signing our fate.
“Fine,” I say. “Help me up, I’m kinda stuck.”
Laughing, he takes my hands and pulls me off the bed. He reaches around me, grabbing the baseball hat and fits it to my head.
“What’s with the hat?”
“Decoy.”
“Right, because the belly isn’t noticeable.”
“Are you going to sit here and argue with me or are you going to put your shoes on so we can get the hell out of here and give that new Expedition Pipe dropped off a test run?”
I should get a medal for how quickly I waddle into my room and grab my shoes. I even manage to put them on without having to ask Nico for help—the beauty of slides. By the time I make my way downstairs, he’s waiting for me by the garage door, wearing a backward baseball cap and a black hoodie.
The two of us make some pair—like we’re going to rob a bank or something. It’s really quite funny. I mean, picture it, two people walk into a bank dressed all in black. Both have hats, one has a belly and they tell you to freeze. You’d look at my stomach and call me an ambulance, not empty the vault and give me all the money.
Nico ushers me into the garage and we get into the Expedition. The garage door rolls up, and he flips the truck into reverse, slowly peeling out onto the street. It doesn’t hit me that we’ve really left the house until we’re three blocks away and I try not to freak out.
I tell myself it’s late and a Sunday. The roads are empty and the odds of someone catching us are slim to none. Besides, Nico doesn’t seem all that worried.
We drive aimlessly for a while, neither of us saying a word. Both of us just happy to be out and dare I say, together. At least that’s how it is for me.
The thought startles me for a moment and as I stare out the window, I start to wonder how I’m going to handle things when the baby is born, and Frankie comes home. The thought of possibly not seeing Nico on a daily basis or having him there for me to talk to is unnerving and downright terrifying. It’s everything I felt when Frankie left magnified by a thousand.
“You know that eggplant thing is a bunch of bullshit,” Nico questions, breaking the silence and interrupting the mental breakdown I’m on the verge of having. “It doesn’t cure shit, but you know what does?”
He loses me for a minute and then I recall Wolf shoving the tray of eggplant at me and ordering me to take a whiff. Laughing, I turn to him and spot the slightest hint of a smile on his lips.
“What’s that?”
“Ice cream. There’s this place in Williamsburg that makes the best sundaes and milkshakes. What do you say we go check it out and then maybe hit a movie?”
My eyebrows hitch at the suggestion. I thought we were only going for a ride, I didn’t expect us to actually get out of the car, never mind a movie and ice cream and while it’s a very tempting suggestion, I’m scared. What if Wolf finds out?
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I ask him, worrying my lip between my teeth.
He glances at me.
“No, it’s right up there on the list of top five worst ideas I’ve ever had,” he replies, and I laugh again. “So, what do you say? I think Baby Scotto needs a milkshake, and Uncle Nico wouldn’t mind a slice of cheesecake with his.”
“And the movie?”
“So long as I get cheesecake and ice cream, you can pick the movie.”
“You sure you’re not the pregnant one?”
“It’s questionable,” he says, laughing as he takes one hand off the steering wheel to touch his stomach. “I’m going to need to do double time in the gym after you give birth.”
“With Tara?” I cringe as soon as the question leaves my lips. “No,” I say when his jaw goes slack and both his hands tighten around the steering wheel. “Don’t answer that, it just came out and cheesecake sounds great.”
Feeling my cheeks flush, I turn and look out the window. What the hell is wrong with me? I should be encouraging him to find someone, for him to move on with his life when all of this is over with. He deserves that. To find someone he can laugh with, someone he can go for milkshakes with. A person he can have his own child with and maybe polish her nails when she can’t reach them. Someone he can settle into bed with every night and not feel torn to shreds.
“Carrie,” he calls.
“Hmm? We ain’t going to get another night like this, so can we just enjoy one another? No talk of others. No worries…just me and you, taking it back to basics. We can be two strangers standing on an overpass—minus the vomiting and the high-wire act.”
I glance back at him.
“Just the Water Fairy and Green Eyes?”
He groans.
“I walked into that one, didn’t I?”
“You sure did.”
~*~
The milkshake came in a frosted beer mug and it was topped with a slice of New York style cheesecake, whipped cream, crushed Snickers and topped with hot fudge. It was amazing and totally worth the forty-five-minute drive and the risk that came along with it.
“Oh my God,” I moan with my mouthful of cheesecake. When the waitress delivered our shakes, she also handed us two little plates, and we began dissecting the milkshake, moving each slice of cake to the plates.
“It’s good, right?”
Good isn’t a strong enough word. This thing is a dream.
“How did you find this place?” I ask. Wrapping my lips around the straw, I take a sip and wash down the cheesecake with some chocolate goodness.
“You promise not to laugh?”
Lifting my eyes to his, I playfully shake my head.
“No.”
He laughs,
pushing his mug towards me.
“Try the vanilla.”
“Stalling.”
“Just try it and I’ll tell you.”
Rolling my eyes, I take his mug.
“I’m a Guy Fieri fan. You know that show Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives? I watch it sometimes and one of the episodes he came here. I’ve been meaning to come check it out but never had someone to take with me and there’s nothing more embarrassing than a twenty-seven-year-old guy sitting in a diner, nursing a milkshake by himself.”
“Oh, I see, so I’m like the perfect date for this,” I tease, pointing to my belly that barely fits inside the booth.
“Absolutely.”
I sip his milkshake, pushing mine towards him. Without me having to tell him to taste it, he bends his head and wraps his mouth around the straw. Torn between the chocolate and the vanilla, I look at Nico.
“Which do you think is better?” I ask.
Staring at me, he doesn’t answer me, and I take that as a sign that he’s just as conflicted as I am, but then he reaches across the table and swipes the corner of my mouth with his thumb. Popping his finger into his mouth, he sucks the vanilla ice cream from it and leans back against the vinyl booth. A smile toys on his lips as his eyes meet mine.
“Definitely vanilla.”
I snatch my finger away from him and clear my throat.
“You’re trouble, Nico Scotto.”
He plucks a paper napkin from the dispenser and hands it to me.
“Yeah, so are you, Green Eyes. So are you.”
~*~
Nico let me pick the movie but since the milkshakes were so fantastic, I didn’t feel it was right to subject him to a cheesy romance flick, therefore, I chose an action movie. We sat in the back of the movie theater, away from everyone and I tried to pay attention to what was going on the screen, but the man sitting next to me was far more entertaining. At certain parts of the movie, he would move, like he was running with the cast, shooting the bad guys.
I would’ve found it endearing if I hadn’t overheard his conversation with Wolf. I didn’t know much about Nico’s life before me, other than he was part of his dad’s motorcycle club and that he had been shot at one point. I also knew he missed it.
Walking The Line (Satan's Knights Prospect Trilogy Book 3) Page 16
