Enshrine

by Chelle Bliss

  Butcher,” but never has a last name been mentioned.

  Me: What’s your last name?

  Besides wanting to know so I know which family I’ll be with, I also think a quick Google search might be fun. It’s my go-to resource for important information on anyone. I always checked out my dates. Finding out if they had a criminal background had always been important. But I know Bruno is a criminal. Even though I know there probably isn’t a thing I’d learn that I don’t already know.

  Bruno: Bruno.

  Did I type the question wrong? I glance down. Nope. I asked it right.

  Me: No, I mean your LAST name. I know your first name is Bruno. Duh.

  Bruno: Bruno.

  “What the fuck?” I groan and stare at his reply.

  Me: Clearly we have a misunderstanding. So is your first name Bruno or your last?

  Bruno: Last.

  Huh. Never in a million years would I have thought it isn’t his name.

  Me: So what’s your first name?

  Finding out this little tidbit has me on the edge of my seat. I need to know the name of the man I have slowly and surely fallen for over the last month.

  Bruno: I would tell ya, but then I’d have to kill ya.

  I blink. He can’t be serious.

  Me: You’re an asshole.

  Bruno: I know.

  I laugh. He’s both infuriating and funny. Typically, the combination, along with his caveman ways, would have me running for the hills, but something about him makes me want more.

  Bruno: Rocco

  Okay. Hold up. He has a badass name with Bruno, but Rocco… It’s just perfect. Maybe I’ll rename him. He’d be a perfect Rocky. The Butcher sure as hell doesn’t fit anymore.

  “Rocco Bruno,” I repeat to myself and smile. It’s absolutely perfect.

  Me: It’s perfect, Rocky.

  Bruno: Don’t.

  Oooo. I struck a chord.

  Me: Why?

  Bruno: No one has called me Rocco or Rocky since I was a kid.

  Me: But I like it.

  He doesn’t reply right away. The message doesn’t even show he has read it, but I know he has to have. I’ll wait. I’m patient and he can’t ignore me for long. That much I know about him.

  My eyes feel heavy and sting as I watch Christmas Vacation for the hundredth time in my life while waiting for him to respond. I always wished I had that big, insane family. Being driven crazy by silly relatives would be so much better than being alone and waking up to no gifts under my Christmas tree.

  Maybe someday.

  * * *

  “Beautiful,” he whispers before the couch dips next to me.

  “Bruno.”

  “Yeah.” He wraps his arms around and pulls me against his side.

  I curl into him, almost instinctively. “You didn’t text me back,” I complain without opening my eyes.

  “Shit got busy at work.”

  “Have to whack someone?”

  He laughs and strokes my hair. “You’re precious with all your pop culture references. I’m most certainly not the Godfather.”

  I giggle and glance up at him. “You’re more like Rocky.” I wink.

  He looks upward and tries to hide his discomfort at the nickname. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

  I push myself up to face him. “Why do you hate it?”

  He grimaces and lifts me into his lap. “You won’t understand, Cal.”

  I place my hand on his chest, just above his heart. “Try me.”

  He adjusts me so I’m not resting against his cock. It makes me a little sad because it feels nice pressed against my body. “My buddies used to call me that when I was a kid. I was a troublemaker, and it wasn’t a nickname I wanted to keep as an adult.”

  I frown and draw my eyebrows together in confusion. “But you’re okay with ‘Butcher’?”

  He laughs silently with his mouth closed. “People who don’t know me call me that. It’s amusing.”

  “But Rocky bothers you?”

  “Yes.”

  I search his eyes and try to figure out if he’s pulling my leg. “You have me so confused.”

  “I know.” He grins and runs his fingers along my cheek. “I’m trying to think about how to explain it to you.”

  “Please.”

  “The Butcher is nonsense. It’s made up. He’s a person people believe me to be. I know he’s not real. I let them believe what they want. But Rocky, the angry kid who looked for a fight at every turn, isn’t who I am anymore. It’s not someone I want to be again.”

  My heart breaks a little. I lean forward and speak softly, trying not to sound judgmental. “But you do hurt people for a living, right?”

  His hand cups my cheek, and I push my face into it. “Do you think I hurt people?”

  I can’t imagine him hurting anyone. “Knowing you like I do now… No. I can’t imagine it.” I smile at him, my heart ready to explode with so many emotions. “The man who takes care of people he loves with such passion cannot be the same man who would break another’s legs.”

  “I can’t talk about my work, Cal. You know that.”

  “I know.” I pout. God, I want to know everything about this man…everything.

  “But I can tell you this.” He places his other hand against my face, holding it so I can’t look anywhere but in his eyes. “I’ve never done anything to anyone that they didn’t deserve.”

  “Okay,” I whisper and try to find solace in that statement—kind of. He didn’t say he’s never killed anyone, just that if he did, they deserved it.

  “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  “I think so.”

  He leans forward and places his lips against my forehead. “I’d never do anything to hurt you.”

  “I know.” Not a bone in my body doubts his words.

  “Come here,” he says, releasing my face and wrapping his arms around my back. I let him pull me toward his chest and I tuck my head under his chin. “There are just things I can’t tell you. Not yet, at least. One day you’ll understand.”

  “I will?” I fist his shirt in my hands, gripping it tightly.

  He rubs my back with one hand and tangles his fingers in my hair with the other. “You will.”

  “Someday?” Does that mean that Bruno plans to stick around once I’m better?

  His hands still. “Why would you ask it like that?”

  “I just figure—” I can’t say the words. Hearing that I’m only temporary will rip me apart.

  His arms tighten around me, leaving no space between our bodies. “Do you think I’m going somewhere, Cal?” He rests his cheek against the top of my head. “I’m not going anywhere. Sick, healthy, or a general pain in the ass, you’re not getting rid of me that easy.”

  I smile and know I’m a pain in the ass. Typically, a whiny one as of late, but it never seems to faze him. “Promise?” I ask and slide my hand up his neck, placing my palm against his pulse.

  “Promise. So why did you want to know about my last name?”

  I close my eyes and feel the thrum of his pulse against my palm. “I wanted to know the name of the family I’m spending Christmas with this year.”

  “Yeah?” I can hear the excitement in his voice.

  “Yep. I’m going to a Bruno Family Christmas.”

  “You’ve made my night, kid.”

  “It’s scary, but I’m excited.” Really, I’m petrified, but I’ll never tell him.

  “There’s nothing to be scared of. My family will love you.”

  I’m not worried that they won’t; the thing that has me the most scared is that I’ll fall madly in love with the Bruno family.

  Lee, I’ve already fallen for, and I can’t imagine not having her in my life.

  But what if his entire family is like the two of them?

  What if I love them so much that not being part of them breaks my heart?

  24

  Chemo Can Kiss My Ass

  Becca, Lee, and Bruno
are coming over for a little party after I’m done with my last chemo treatment. I prepped food last night and invited them to celebrate the end to the shittiest type of medicine on the planet.

  Instead of Bruno coming with me, I ask Becca to be at my side when they tell me I’m done. I know the chances that I’ll need more in the future are pretty high, but for now, I’m done.

  Finished.

  Finito.

  Finition.

  Fini.

  Fatto.

  “So that’s it?” I ask the nurse as she unhooks me.

  “Yep. I’m proud to say you’ve completed your treatment.”

  “Huh,” I mutter. “I expected more.”

  “I wish we could throw confetti and party, but we do have the bell.”

  During the six times I’ve had treatment, I’ve heard the bell twice. Each ringing signals the end of someone’s treatment plan and gives a feeling of hope to everyone still sitting in the chair. We wait for our turn and pray we make it. Today it’s my turn to ring the bell and kiss cancer good-bye.

  “Yeah. I think that’s a great idea.” I smile. “But I think confetti would be a nicer touch.”

  She digs around in her pocket and holds out her hand. “Sucker?”

  I laugh. “I’ll take it. Grape is my favorite.” I unwrap it and stick it in my mouth as quickly as possible. The chemo has left a horrible taste in my mouth, and I’m hoping that the grape will overpower it. I give her a hug before I grab my purse and head straight for the bell.

  My fingers shake as I get closer. The excitement and relief that comes over me is something I expect, but the hopefulness throws me for a loop. I don’t go over the top out of respect for the other patients. I ring it a few times and walk away, feeling a new sense of calm and joy.

  Before Becca and I walk out, I turn and look back. I never want to be in one of those chairs again. I want to rescue each person who sits there and fights for survival.

  My life is moving forward. I know it in my heart, and I know that I’ll be okay. Even if the cancer isn’t gone, I won’t look back with regret.

  I turn around, putting everything behind me. Becca winds her fingers in mine as we walk outside into the cold air that has descended upon New York. “You’re done!” she exclaims and throws confetti at me that she’s pulled out of her pocket.

  I laugh and spit out some that has landed in my mouth. “I am!” I yell and look toward the sky. “I’m kicking cancer’s ass!” I yell loud enough to earn me a few honks. My arms are outstretched and I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Sticking out my tongue, I let the tiny snowflakes fall into my mouth and melt. There’s something special about this time of year. It makes anything seem possible, including remission. “I’m done, fuckers!”

  “There’s my girl,” Becca sings at my side. “And here’s your guy.”

  I move quickly, searching for him. And then I see him. Rocco Bruno with a limo and the largest bunch of red roses and a billion balloons. I can’t wipe the smile off my face as I stand there, gawking at him.

  “Lucky bitch,” Becca mumbles before smacking my ass. “Let’s celebrate!”

  “Cal,” Bruno says when I come close enough to him to touch.

  “Hey,” I reply, my smile so large my cheeks hurt. “All this is for me?” My eyes take in the size of the limo before staring at the perfection of the obnoxiously large bouquet.

  “It is.” He places his hand against my face, wrapping his fingers around the nape of my neck and pulling my face to his. The warmth of his lips sends tingles down my spine and leaves me gasping for air.

  My eyes fill with tears and I can’t stop them. My joy is too much to contain. I throw myself into his arms and pepper his neck with kisses. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” I chant and move my lips to his face. He chuckles and turns his head in time to capture my lips.

  “You two really make me ill,” Becca grumbles from behind us before she climbs into the limo. “Let’s go. I see drinks in my future.”

  Bruno and I laugh, glancing at each other. I can see the joy in his eyes, the relief that this part of my journey is over. “After you.” He motions toward the limo door.

  As I climb inside, I think about how surreal my life has been over the last couple of months. The phone call, the accident, locking myself away from the world, the sickness of cancer, losing my hair—I mean, every fucking strand—growing close to Bruno, depending on him, Becca being at my side…when I let her, Lee coming into my life like a guardian angel, and how I am truly the luckiest girl in the world.

  * * *

  “Surprise!” Lee shouts when we walk through the front door and she throws more than a handful of confetti at us.

  Bruno grunts and I turn to look at him with the biggest smile on my face, breaking out in a fit of uncontrollable giggles. The tough guy has confetti everywhere. The majority of her throw landed on him, sticking on his eyelashes, on his lips, and all over his head. Pink sparkles even cover his coat. He looks adorable and miserable.

  “Don’t say it,” he mumbles.

  “But you look—” I don’t finish the statement because he starts trying to blow it off his eyelashes using his lips, and the face he makes has my laughter returning even harder.

  “Oh my God,” I blurt as I try to catch my breath.

  “Sorry,” Lee apologizes, looking not a bit sorry for covering her brother like a sparkly pink cupcake.

  His hand runs furiously across his head, the sparkles falling onto his shoulders like the most beautiful dandruff in the world. “Jesus, Lee. Overboard much?”

  “It’s a party, bro. Smile a bit, fucker.” She winks at me.

  We all laugh except him. He isn’t really pissed, but no matter how hard he tries, he can’t get it off. It’s as if it wants to be part of him. I understand it completely. I never want to be apart from the man either.

  “Did ya get it?” Bruno asks Lee, wiping off the confetti from his lips.