I storm inside, letting the door slam announce my arrival. “Son,” with a warning tone of his voice is how I’m greeted.
“Grandpa,” I shoot back. His face blanches when he realizes I know everything.
“Margaret,” he calls and takes a seat.
She settles in close to him, and I unleash. “Twenty-two fucking years you’ve lied to me.”
“Watch your mouth, Dakota.” He’s not one to let you be disrespectful to women.
“Neither of your mouths are much better with the lies falling from them. How? Why?”
I clutch my hair in my hands, lost, spinning out of control, not knowing who I am. The people in front of me weren’t the most involved, the most open to a relationship but they provided for me. Gave me a home and loved me in their own way. They were wading in the puddle of shit we had all been living.
“Your mom got pregnant when she was just fifteen. She refused to give you up, but couldn’t be a mother to you. She had a wild spirit, refused to be tamed, even for you. She tried. She loved you. The first year you were her sole focus. She started pulling away. She changed. Turned to the drugs, but we loved you. After many fights, discussions and threats from us, she gave us custody with the agreement she be involved in your life. So she took the role of big sister. As you got older, her choice came back to haunt her.” My grandmother pauses to wipe the tears off her cheeks. “She needed you. You were the biggest part of her. You were her best accomplishment, but the lie had taken root, and our life was what it was. She couldn’t take that security from you, so she became the constant in your life. She elbowed us out of your activities until you only wanted her. We allowed that, didn’t want her to tell you the truth and set you on the same path she was taking. The drugs messed with her. One day she would be riding high, in love with her boy and the next she was a raging lunatic blaming us for her choices. We still did nothing, and tried to keep everything how it had been. I’m not saying that was the best resolution, and seeing as what’s happened, I can say it was the worst decision made from this whole situation. We love you, Dakota. We did what we could with what we had to work with.”
I walked out that day with not much resolved, but it will take time. I drop in and see them, they feel the error of their ways, but I can’t continue punishing them. Events of my life are clouded with doubt, and I’m struggling as to where we go from here. They aren’t Mom and Dad, but they’re still my family. I should have figured all this out before I sucked back the scotch and sank myself into her roommate in an effort to make her feel the pain and confusion I was. I should have figured this out, with her sitting beside me, holding me up. I didn’t, and this is the remnant of what I created.
She spends a lot of time at the place in town, but Heath De Luca set his sights on her months ago. As long as she still feels the pain of what I inflicted, she isn’t free for him so that gives me a little peace of mind.
Six months ago, we got a break in the case against Frank Locati we’ve been salivating over . . . that break came in the form of a phone call I received from Callie. She gave us a name that tied everything together. Now we’re sitting outside waiting for him to make his move.
I look to Bronson and see the anxiousness pouring off him. “By the books,” I remind him.
“Strictly,” he assures me. We’ve been waiting for this moment and can’t afford any screw-ups. For any of us. This goes according to plan; my best friend gets the truth about his girl. My girl will hopefully get her best friend back, and the destruction we’ve all been wading through becomes a bit easier.
Our squad leader shouts, “Everyone vested up?” We all acknowledge him. “You all know your sectors?” More agreements. “You all ready?”
“Hell yes,” we affirm.
“Let’s go, men.” Bronson and I are sent to other teams, so before we split up, I give him a nod, reminding him to watch his back. His answering salute doesn’t leave me feeling all that confident in him. This is not a joke. All hell breaks loose within moments. I don’t have a visual where the gunshots are coming from, lots of activity with men scurrying, and I follow my sector leader down the halls. The loyalty these men display until the end is ridiculously stupid. I shoot a few of the men, dodging their bullets, and silence falls around us.
Our goal was to bring as many men out alive as we could. Not to kill. Ambushing them with a raid, they were weakened. Most were just wounded and being taken into custody, but I don’t see Bronson. Gunshots echo to my left. We take off. At the end of the hall, Frank Locati is dead in a pool of his own blood, and Bronson is standing over him with an empty clip. No way this wasn’t a clean shoot, but Locati has no weapon. Whatever he reached for that had Bronson firing is beyond recognition, and I hope my friend can finally move forward.
Two days later, on mandatory leave, we’re outside of Bronson’s family home throwing back beers, celebrating a man’s death. I’ve come a long way but witnessing the despair that evil brought, I don’t think there’s any better justice than that. I catch Bianca’s figure walking around the side of the house. She’s home for summer, and it’s been good for her and her mom. Just puts her in too close of contact with Heath.
I see her grab her phone from her back pocket, and within seconds of answering, she drops to her knees. I immediately move to her side when I hear her strangled cry, “Callie?” I look back to see Bronson’s jaw harden, and he halts his progress towards us, becoming a statue.
I take one look at her and see she’s fine. Shocked but elated, I make my way towards Bronson. “You knew this was a possibility. She gave me the name.”
“Yeah,” he clips. His tone gives me nothing, and I see him becoming the man he was eighteen months ago, when she left. In a moment of clarity my own mistakes come crashing around me. He may love her, he may miss her, but her betrayal did something to him he can’t overcome. I see his sister doing the same thing to me with my treachery.
I look back to the woman I love, tears of joy wetting her face, her smile stretching across her entire face. I look at Bronson and see the exact opposite and know that I won’t stop trying until the look she’s wearing now is for me, because of me. I never want to see Bronson’s look on my girl’s face. I hope seeing Callie will check something inside of Bronson and let the walls fall down.
Though lovers be lost love shall not.
~Dylan Thomas
Chapter 17
Bianca
Unknown numbers . . . hell, any numbers, get declined. I don’t talk on the phone, and I’ve kept that rule through the years. “Hello.”
“Binks.” This can’t be real. I stop my steps.
“Callie?” My throat is clogged with emotion; I’m barely able to choke out her name.
“It’s me.” Her voice is rough, hesitant. Her fear evident.
“Oh my God.” My knees hit the grass, and I sob.
“I’m coming home.” Dakota is at my side, and I see him looking between Bronson and me.
“When?” I need her here like yesterday. Her dad is dead; she’s free. I can imagine what she’s endured, where she’s been, and I need to make sure she’s still the girl I love.
“I’ll be there sometime tomorrow.” She must be close.
“Is it because of your dad? Are you safe?” I have to know those answers. I need her to be okay.
“I’ll tell you everything when I get there.” I want to press her, but I don’t know what state she’s in.
“Okay—” I want to tell her I’ll come to her wherever she is, but she doesn’t let me finish.
“It’s okay. I know he’s moved on.” Who? Oh God, I look up to Bronson, and he’s walking with Dakota at his side, emotions firmly locked down.
“You’re wrong.” Is she ever wrong? He hasn’t moved forward since the day she left. He’s in his own hell.
“Well, I have someone I want you to meet.” No. No. NO. This couldn’t have happened. She is Callie. She loves Bronson. They are the personification of love.
“Who?” I d
on’t want to know, but she’s still my best friend. My sister. I know her moving on wasn’t done lightly.
“Angelo. You will love him.” There’s no way I could love anyone else for her.
I will try to give her what she needs, but this is too much of a shock. “Binks?”
“Do you love him?” I weep. Please say no. Please say what I need to hear.
“I do.” I suck in a deep breath and swallow my fear.
“Shit.” I can’t hide my disappointment. “I guess I’ll see you soon.”
“I’m sorry.” She begins crying again. I’m such an ass.
“I don’t want your apologies. I just want my sister back.”
“Hopefully you’ll get her. I’m not the same person.” The dread I have been keeping at bay engulfs me. I’ll get her through this. I’ll get us all through this. I’m not foretelling, I don’t know how it’s all going to work, but it will.
“Yes, you are. You’re my Callie,” I try to reassure her. It’s that easy. The circumstances may be complex, but her returning is simple. We’ve all had more loss in the past two years than any of us deserve, the months have caused all of our lives to implode, but her place is here. With us. All of us. “Call me when you get in.”
“I promise.”
“I don’t want to let you go. I’m scared you’ll disappear again. I’ll come to wherever you are.”
“Bianca, I’ve got this. I promise I’ll be there.” She clicks off, and I look to see my mom has joined the guys on the porch. I stand up and tiptoe my way to them, knowing some landmines are going to detonate.
“That was Callie. She’ll be here tomorrow.” I try to make my voice mask the elation I feel. I must fail because my brother won’t look at me. I debate announcing the rest, but I have to brace everyone. “She’s arriving with an Angelo, she says she loves him.” My mom gasps in heartbreak, Dakota drops his head . . . but Bronson, he stands erupting in rage, throws his beer bottle across the porch, and it shatters against the bricks. He levels me with a gaze, drawing a line in the sand. He wants me to turn my back on her. I won’t do that. I also won’t lose my brother in this.
“Bronson,” I sigh. “You don’t know everything.”
“I know enough. She’s returning with someone. Doesn’t seem like she was a captive like you thought.”
“There’s a lot to sort. We just have to let it get fixed.”
“There is no we. You want to pick up where you left off with the illusion of rainbows and unicorns, that’s on you. I can’t. I won’t give her that power over me. Not again.” He turns on his heel and walks off.
“Give him time, Figlia,” my mom mutters, shaking her head. She goes after him, wanting to ease the conflict inside him.
“If they can’t make it, who in this world can?” I ask the air, forgetting Dakota is still there.
“Us.” I bark out a sarcastic laugh.
“Yes, because every girl wants to walk in and see the guy who claimed to love her an hour prior fucking someone else. Looking them in the eye and never stopping said fucking. That’s a fucking fairytale right there.”
“It won’t happen again. I swear to you.”
“I know you regret it. My heart and mind can’t forget it. Not now, and I’m not sure I’ll ever get there. I’m stuck. I’m not moving forward, but I refuse to go back there. Technically, you didn’t cheat on me . . . but that is a very small technicality.”
“I don’t know what else to say. I know I have to prove it to you, I will. There isn’t anyone else I want by my side. Nobody else fits me like you do. I was thrown for a loop that day; every fiber of my being was tangled into a lie. I didn’t know how to handle it.”
“I know why you did it, Dakota. The action you chose punished me directly, and I was in no way involved with what you discovered. If it was my dad, he was wrong. That’s not my offense to compensate for. But, your mom, Dana, she was not innocent bystander. She was a willing participant until the end, so where’s your blame for your family’s part? You didn’t stop and think about that when you took the path you did . . . only yourself, and that’s not a position I want to be in again.” I see his head fall back, and he exhales slowly.
His face falls forward, meeting my eyes. “I’ll fix it, I promise you.”
“Some things can’t be fixed.”
“This isn’t one of them.” His face sets in steely determination. I issued a challenge without meaning to.
Opening the door to Callie and Bronson, seeing her holding my nephew in her arms, I have to believe they can make this work. Angelo isn’t quite a year, and he’s beautiful; the spitting image of his daddy. The tension is rolling off of them, and I know Bronson is punishing her for what he deems as her mistakes.
“You’re a mom?” I can’t believe it. So much was taken from us. We lost so many experiences together. She places Angelo in his baby seat so she can embrace me.
Bronson walks by and jerks the carrier from her carrying him into the living room to meet my mom. He doesn’t bother acknowledging either one of us. I see her eyes follow his steps, and she exhales a deep sigh. She makes an excuse to go back to the car and get more baby gear and I want to throttle my brother.
She comes back through the living room with Dakota trailing carrying baby stuff. I didn’t get much time with her before Bronson stole her from our earlier massage, and I’m bouncing with excitement. “Sit down, catch me up.” I pat the cushion next to me, wanting her close. The strain in the room is evident, and I need to thwart a confrontation.
“I don’t want to say too much. I was in a small town in Mississippi.” She nods her head towards Bronson, and I ignore her.
“Really? How was that?” I couldn’t imagine being alone for over a year. Even though I’ve felt alone, I’ve had other people around me.
“It sucked, I wasn’t myself, and I was all alone.” Bronson snorts, and I jerk my head up to him. He isn’t the only one dealing with this bullshit and he damn sure won’t take his anger out on her. “I have a meeting with the agency tomorrow to give them details, and until I explain to Bronson nobody else will get full details.” She still puts him first. If that doesn’t prove to him how much she loves him, then he doesn’t deserve her.
“Don’t take my feelings into account this time. Please share your experiences with us.” Bronson’s begging me to hurt him. His tone is harsh, and his face is mocking.
My mom hollers at him, she’s going to unleash an Italian tirade on his ass. I’m about to pop some popcorn for this.
Callie comes to his rescue, and I want to put my hand over her mouth. “It’s fine. He’s entitled to his opinion.” She doesn’t disappoint me when she squares her shoulders and turns to him. “What you aren’t entitled to is to act like this in front of Angelo . . . or to act like I wasn’t hurt in all of this. You don’t have to accept or believe my feelings, but you won’t dismiss them. You won’t treat me like this in front of my son.” She didn’t completely lose her backbone, but she could have said plenty more to him. I may help her out with that.
“Take a walk.” Dakota stands up. Bronson doesn’t move.
“I’ll walk outside. If you need me, I’ll be in the backyard,” Callie announces. I can tell it’s taking a lot to leave Angelo with strangers. What’s even more tragic is that we’re the strangers.
I find her staring at the empty boat slip. “Sorry my brother’s a dick.”
“He’s not. He’s just hurt.” Surely she doesn’t believe that load of crap.
“Spoken like a damn loyal girl still in love with said asshole.”
“You know he’s your hero, your best friend.” She doesn’t know how we’ve drifted, and I won’t put that at her feet today.
“Still an asshole. He still loves you. I can obviously tell you still care, you still put him above yourself.”
“Love is the last thing he feels.”
“No, love is the last thing he wants to feel, and it pisses him off he can’t control it like he does everything e
lse in life. Like I said, dick.” Funny, I know someone else who did that. “So, tell me something. What did you do there?”
“Pretty much school and took care of Angelo when he arrived.” She proceeds to tell me she finished school, which I’m insanely jealous of. She skirts over any talk of her dad or what her life was like.
“Are you okay?” I can’t stop myself. I need to know what to do for her.
“Define okay.” By that response, I know she isn’t.
“Did he hurt you?” It kills me to have to ask that question, and the bile is rising in my throat with images of what she could have suffered.
“Not physically. He broke my fucking heart. My own dad did this to me with no regard for the repercussions I would deal with. As long as he was going to end up top-dog, it didn’t matter who he stepped over. In one moment, one act of greed, he ruined my life. He changed everything as I knew it, and I have no clue how to begin to pick up the pieces. I have a beautiful son, one created from love, but he will be robbed of a loving two-parent home. I’m not naïve. I knew when I left I was sealing my own fate, but I guess I didn’t know how it would feel. I’m back here, and it’s all so real, so in my face, and I’m clueless how to get past the feelings I have, deal with the hatred directed at me and all the blame placed solely on me. I struggled when Angelo was born, and I don’t want to go back to that place.” I watch the tears fill her eyes, and mine are running unchecked down my face.
“Bravo. And the award goes to Callie Locati. Poor girl was forced away, leaving ruin in her wake, she returns home wanting the pity train rolled out and to be welcomed back with open arms.” Bronson has gone too far this time. His words cruel, his appearance a surprise. She came out here for peace and he followed to disrupt her.
“Oh my God.” I have no words for him. He has made me speechless which isn’t an easy task.
Bellissimo Lotta (Beautiful Struggle): Companion Novel to Bellissimo Fortuna (The Family Trilogy Book 2) Page 13
