by A. C. Bextor
As he drops the phone next to him on the bed, he lifts his head toward the ceiling and sighs with an ache of exhaustion. “Liam, promise this old man you’ll never have anything to do with the family business. They’ve aged me.”
Now inside his sterile hospital room, I correct, “Life has aged you, Pete. Years of treating your body like a trash can has aged you, my friend.”
“Parlato come un vero guaritore.” ‘Spoken like a true healer.’ He smirks.
I return the smirk with a smile, happy to be in the company of my old but tired friend.
Once I’m close to his bed, I take a seat and greet him properly. “How are you feeling this morning?”
Pete’s eyes scan me up and down; I can’t place his wary expression. “I don’t know whether I’m bored or tired. I’ve been lying in this bed so long my ass is numb. Wanna check for bedsores?”
“Pass,” I state, then lie, “You look great.”
Rubbing his face with his calloused hands, he leans farther back against the bed. “It took me getting sick with cancer to hear you compliment how handsome you think I am. I must really look as bad as I feel.”
“You don’t,” I counter, then remind him of his good news. “You’re finished with your treatments for now, and once we get your kidneys functioning as they should, you’ll be on your way.”
“On my way,” he mutters to himself. “Until you doctors completely fix me, I’m tied to a short leash.”
Instead of sparring with his distaste for hospital stays, I grab his wrist to check his pulse. Although machines are more than capable of recording the human body’s vitals, I’ve never lost sight of a patient’s benefitting more through human connection.
“Dr. Givens thinks my cancer is all gone and that I’ll be out of here for good soon.”
“Dr. Givens said no such thing. I see cancer hasn’t eaten away your knack for bullshit.”
“When did you grow up and start acting so responsible?”
“Probably the same time you started aging and acting out like a child.” I smile, but it isn’t returned.
“Liam.” His face is serious as he clutches the phone next to him. “I meant what I said. Promise me you’ll stay out of Ciro’s business, no matter what happens. I won’t rest until I know you’ll do as I ask.”
“I don’t know a lot about his business, Pete. I try not to —”
“Questa non è una questione di voi cercando, Liam. Basta stare lontano da esso.” This isn’t a matter of you trying, Liam. Just stay away from it.
Watching Pete lying here weakened and worn, staring up at me with a worried but angered expression, coerces me into stating aloud the same promise I’ve already made to myself.
“I’ll stay away.”
“And don’t ever give him reason to bring you in,” he begs. “None at all. He’ll use whatever means necessary to do it.”
“Pete. I’ll stay away.”
“Ciro ruined Elevent,” he accuses to make his point. “Given the chance, that boy could’ve been so much more.”
Elevent and I are the same age, thirty-three, but the gap within our life experiences always kept us from being close. Up until the time he came to live with us, Elevent had been physically abused by his alcoholic father and neglected by his drug-riddled mother.
While I was in school, learning things as any young man should, Ciro put Elevent to work. Running cryptic messages across town, spying on well-known enemies, or setting up dirty business meetings fell on him. Because my unrelated brother envied me for being Ciro’s blood tie, our relationship wasn’t easily worked around. He despised my position in Ciro’s life, and at the same time, I pitied his.
Shortly after he turned eighteen, Elevent broke away from Ciro. Fate, maybe desperation, led him to a motorcycle club deep inside the city. Though he and Ciro still conduct their questionable business from time to time, I never hear from him at all. I still think about him, though, in the same regretful way Pete’s thinking about him now.
My life could’ve been just like his. I was fortunate.
“Elevent survived Ciro,” I state, and Pete’s eye twitches in anger.
Sneering my sidestepping comment, Pete corrects, “Elevent escaped your uncle. I worry if Ciro gets his talons into you, you’ll do as he says out of obligation to this family.”
“I can assure you that Ciro won’t persuade me.”
“And I can assure you that, when Ciro is determined, there isn’t any length he won’t go to get what he wants.”
“You worry for nothing,” I try again. “I have no interest in whatever it is he and his men do.”
Grabbing the sheet, Pete absently runs his fingers over its edge. He doesn’t look at me as he voices what seems like a confession of the heart. “I knew a girl once. I loved her very much.”
Mirroring his, my expression grows serious and my chest tightens. “You knew a girl?”
Nodding, he continues, “She was so beautiful. She was much younger than I was and came from a very different background.”
“I didn’t know,” I reply quietly.
He nods again, still not looking up. “This was a long time ago. I was going to ask her to marry me. I have no doubt she would’ve agreed to be mine.”
Puzzled and confused, never hearing Pete speak of any woman with such endearment, I prod, “Well, where is she now? What happened to her?”
His jaw ticks, his fingers grasping the bedsheet as though holding the frayed cloth tight for whatever balance it can offer.
“I suppose fate decided we weren’t meant to be together. Sometimes, you can love someone with all your heart, but the interfering dark souls of outside influence can overshadow anything you once believed was true.”
“Pete,” I murmur when he looks damaged enough to break.
“She left me before I got the chance to ask her to start a life together. Our lives were so different then. I should’ve made that break from Ciro when I had the chance,” he recalls with regret. “When I had a reason. When I had her.”
“I’m sorry, Pete.”
“After she left, I did what I could to get over her and move on. Since then, I’ve never spoken of her.”
“I never knew.”
“You couldn’t have known,” he scolds. “She was a small chapter in my life I never talked about with you, or anyone else.”
A consuming sadness washes over me. I’ve looked up to Pete since I was a kid, but even as a child, then adult, he’s kept me and everyone else around him at arm’s length. I’m not his blood relation, and it doesn’t matter that I feel as if he’s mine.
“I was a job you were given. I understand.”
“That’s ridiculous. You were never only a job to me, Liam. You were un bambino,” he corrects accusingly.
I think about Uncle Ciro and his blatant disregard for love as well as all matters stemming from the heart. Time and time again, my uncle has tried to steer me away from ever meeting someone I felt I was meant to have. It wasn’t just me he held such tight reigns around, either; Pete was equally exposed to his ways of domination. Probably more so than me, as Pete’s dedication and responsibilities to the family and its business were always considered highly important.
“Did Ciro know about her?”
“No, and he never will,” Pete snaps back, to my surprise. “What she and I had together was ours alone. It’s how we wanted it to be.” He points at me and narrows his eyes. “Your uncle is not a man you can trust. You know this already, so it goes without saying. But please, Liam, don’t pass up something beautiful in your life because the monster who raised you more like a soldier than an endearing nephew doesn’t believe in love.”
To a point, I agree with Pete. His assumptions of my uncle’s inability to love are true; however, his love for my mother, his younger sister, was always pure. As is the love he has for his wife, Aunt Sofie.
“Ciro loves his wife, Pete. We both know that.”
The bed shakes as Pete’s body jerks with his sco
ff. A small feigned smile crosses his chapped lips.
“Is that what he feels for her? Love? Sofie was a beautiful woman once, remember? He wore her down, though, didn’t he?” he chastises. “Ciro smothered her with all that love to the point of frustration. She’s not coming back, Liam. There’s no question about it.”
What Pete infers this time is also truth. Aunt Sofie was once a striking woman. And for reasons unbeknownst to the rest of our family, she once loved my uncle very much. The love she had for him wasn’t born from the power or position he held within the family, either; that kind of sacred love was for him alone. She saw something in him no one else has ever had the privilege to see.
However, as Pete said, my uncle eventually wore her down. His insufferable ways of demanding more from all of us made her unrecognizable, even to herself. Years of enduring a harrowing marriage, a life watching those around her die, feeling the pain of each innocent victim’s families by association, finally took its toll.
Aunt Sofie left years ago, citing she was going to Las Vegas to visit her mother. The fact was she was escaping the family as best she could without truly doing so. Divorce doesn’t happen in this life. She knew if she pushed for one, Ciro would have her disappear for good.
In the beginning, she visited and when she didn’t, she’d call. As time moved forward, her visits home lessened, but there were rare occasions when she’d asked to speak with me. We discussed trivial things mostly, away from the family business. Just as my own mother, she also worried about me taking my rightful place next to Ciro. She feared he’d eventually get his way, and he’d end up changing me as he did her.
To this day, she and my uncle live apart but are still married.
“And what about that stupid, manipulative whore of a mistress Ciro had, Katrina? Did he love her, too?” Pete spits with venom.
Katrina is dead. She worked for my family for the brief time she was in my uncle’s bed.
Shaking my head, I concede that I’ll never have that answer. “Maybe. In Ciro’s way, he probably loved her, too.”
“Ciro’s way,” Pete callously hisses. “Ciro has no love for any man or woman. Only himself.”
“The woman you knew,” I query in attempt to steer Pete from his distaste for my uncle. “What was her name?”
“Bella.”
The name softly spoken from his lips in remembrance casts a sad shadow over his already delicate features. The mental image of Pete standing next to a woman, loving her and sharing a life, imparts a sadness I can’t control.
He deserved so much more in his life than to be left to it as he is now—absolutely alone.
I don’t bother asking why he’s talking about Bella now. Maybe Pete feels the end of his time is looming. Throughout my years in this profession, I’ve watched as patient after patient nearing the ends of their lives explore their memories with doubt, insecurity, and regret. Rarely do they look back to the happiness they’ve lived until they realized they couldn’t anymore.
Pete’s young, only sixty-four. His lung cancer diagnosis doesn’t mean his time is up; his odds are good, but only if his soul is willing to fight the battle which still lies unsteadily ahead.
Patting his sheet-covered knee and standing, I change the subject. “Well, you’ll be out of here soon. The nursing staff will miss you.”
“I’ll miss them,” he jabs back, followed by a devious wink.
“I need to go. I have more patients to check on before heading out, but promise me you’ll be good and stay out of trouble.”
Nodding, he agrees, then probes, “Have you asked that beautiful little bird to marry you yet?”
And here we go….
“Her name is Wren, but you already know that.”
He smiles. “Yes. And she’s perfect for you, Liam. You two look great together, if I may say.”
“You may not,” I state quickly, then admit, “I finally got her to agree to dinner. We have a date. In fact, I’m seeing her tonight.”
Pete’s smile is contagious. “You don’t say.”
“Now you can stop nagging.”
Still amused, he holds up a finger and pushes, “You’re getting old fast, Liam. It’s time to settle down. You’re a good-looking, successful man, for goodness sake. Promise me you’ll make her fall so much in love with you that she gives me new babies to love.”
The more time I spend with Wren, the more Pete’s idea holds promise.
“How about you let me handle what I can. You work on getting better. Once you are, we’ll all have dinner together and you can talk to her about babies you want to love.”
“Bribes,” he jokes. “Man up, Liam. The woman is one of a kind. A rare woman with class.”
That she is. A special woman, too innocent for the life I’m caught up in by association. But one I want, making our relationship worth the risk.
“I’m sure she’d love to have dinner with us both,” I return. “As soon as you’re better.”
“Then I’ll use that as motivation to get out of here.”
“Good. I’ll stop in later,” I tell him, excusing myself from his bedside.
Before I have a chance to open his hospital room door, Pete calls my name. It’s not a question or goodbye but a clear address, far from the jovial tone he just had. It also chills me to my core.
“Liam, don’t get involved. Don’t make them promises. Don’t become what I am—what they are. You’re good for the people in this world. Don’t jeopardize yourself when there are still so many left who need you in it.”
Turning around to face my old friend, the one constant influence in my life, I find he’s already twisted away and is gazing out the window, reveling in the Chicago morning sun.
I don’t respond to his worried plea, leaving him to his thoughts of another time in his life. Maybe it’s the one chapter in his story when he felt a true sense of happiness amongst all the chaos.
His love for Bella may have come with a sad and unpredictable ending, but his short time with her was clearly significant to him nonetheless.
“Stop, caro,” Liam demands, his mouth trailing over my neck, the whisper of his warm breath heating my already fevered skin.
When I accepted his invite for dinner, I imagined us eating in the back corner of a lush restaurant with quiet but awkward conversation. After, maybe we’d take a stroll downtown. Then he’d see me back to the diner and possibly offer a chaste kiss good night before ensuring I was safely inside.
What I didn’t imagine was that he’d bring me to his place for a deliciously cooked Italian meal, chilled wine, and light conversation. But that’s what the evening has been. And I’ve loved every moment.
Once we finished dinner, Liam led me to sit in front of the fireplace while he took his adorable puppy Cliff for a quick walk.
I spent my time alone getting to know him through his home. Books, pictures, and sports memorabilia kept my mind occupied.
By the time Liam returned, I was so wrapped up in all that was his, it’s a wonder I didn’t race into his arms as he hit the front door. Not long after, though, he kissed me and hasn’t stopped… until now.
“You want to take a break?” I question, admiring his chiseled jaw and big brown eyes.
So beautiful.
“I need a minute,” he explains, looking up and over my head toward the wall.
Liam’s body is rigid, his manner pensive. Though I don’t have vast experience in men, I do know this one is fighting for control. And secretly I love the power I hold in undoing him completely.
When he closes his eyes, I quip, “Are you picturing tiny purple unicorns and miniature blonde fairies?”
Liam laughs, his entire body quaking against mine. His cock nudges against my inner thigh. I know he wants this as much as I do, but being as well-minded as he is, he’s hesitant to take it.
“I was thinking about Grandmother Palleshi and how much she’d have to say about me having you on the floor beneath me.” He kisses my temple, then adds, “But
unicorns and fairies are probably a better idea.”
Before Liam picked me up at the diner, I was nervous. He’d called to say he was going to be a few minutes late and I almost backed out, but with Georgia and Ed examining my every move, I knew if I tried, I wouldn’t get far.
When the door chimed as he entered, Georgia took in an audible breath. I followed her line of sight and as I turned to look at him, my breath was stolen, too.
Liam wasn’t wearing his typical business suit. Instead, the maroon Henley he chose fit tightly across his chest as if made for only him. His jeans were faded and his boots were scuffed. His hair wasn’t set to perfection as it usually is; it was messy and appeared to be combed with only his fingers.
Running my own fingers through his thick dark hair and watching his eyes zero in on my mouth, I admit, “I don’t want to stop. I like where I am.”
Smiling, Liam bends down, kissing my forehead, my temple, and my cheek before his lips finally brush mine. When I open for him, his tongue sweeps in.
“Caro, if we keep going, I can promise you I won’t stop.”
Smiling against his lips, I position my hand between us, working the button and zipper of his faded jeans. Once inside, I take him in my hand, running my thumb root to tip. The velvety soft flesh twitches and he pulls his hips back, out of reach.
I bite his bottom lip. “I want this, too.”
Liam growls, his chest vibrating between us. His hand, once steady at my waist, travels up my stomach to the base of the black camisole I chose for the night. When the warmth of the fire hits my exposed chest, I gasp just as his thumb caresses my tightened nipple.
With only a single touch, the promise of Liam is greater than any man I’ve been with before.
“You’re staying the night, Wren,” he options, while not really optioning at all. “Tell me you agree.”
