The bodyguard snickers. “Still sure about that, man?” With that, he walks away.
I pull a handkerchief from my pocket and wipe my hands clean of glitter and … whatever else they landed upon as I look at him and his father.
“I understand you’re upset. However, you will not put your hands on me again. Are we clear?”
His father’s glare mirrors his, and I have to force myself to not find amusement in it.
“The girl,” his father sneers, “is seventeen and was his best friend.”
“I’m fully aware of what she was to him. Your son and I have conversed through messenger. Very, how do you say, persistent and crude, or is it vulgar and—”
“He’s seventeen,” he spats.
“Yes, well, I guess that explains it, then,” I mock his obtuse explanation, as well as the ridiculous excuse he just gave his son.
Marcello pulls away from his father’s grip and straightens his shirt. “I will fucking kill you if you hurt her.”
“It’s a shame someone didn’t give you the same warning. But, rest assured, I will treat her as she should be treated—loved and adored.”
His father steps toward me and growls a low warning, “You watch your fucking tone,” as Marcello yells, “You have no fucking idea what you’re getting into,” as he’s being dragged away by two women.
I look back at the man still in my face, seething at me. “I think the women could use your assistance.”
“Don’t fuck with my kid.”
“I’ll take that under consideration and offer you some advice. Stop allowing him to be one and teach him to be a man.”
“You son of a bitch,” he sneers.
Nose-to-nose and having never been in a fight, I should be stepping back, or stepping down. Instead, I can’t help but smirk. “You have no idea.”
“Good show, but you’re giving off piss-poor energy.” Memphis Black pushes between us.
“I had a fucking Benji on the new guy.” River James chuckles.
“My apologies,” I half-joke.
“You would have lost!” Marcello’s father roars.
“Let’s go.” The older of the two women—his wife, I assume—grabs his elbow and pulls him away.
“Well, that was fucked up,” Finn Becket says without emotion. “Now, you think you can manage to chill while we do our thing?”
“Of course.” I nod. “Break a limb.”
Memphis grips my shoulder. “It’s leg, man. Leg.”
“Any one in particular?”
He looks at me like I have cracked. I know the expression, just delivered it wrong.
“That was in jest.”
“He’s got jokes.” Memphis grins. “I might just like you.”
When he walks away, I see Zandor Steel, who has been tolerant of me over the past few weeks, though he appears to possibly be at his wits end, coming from the direction that Tris just went.
“You said you’d leave her alone until she was able to handle this.” He grabs my shirt collar. “Until she was clearer-minded.” His eyes are expressive, like hers.
I place my hands over his fists. “She gives me no choice. I tried. But I can’t seem to deny—”
He pushes away from me. “Jesus Christ, she’s a child.”
“She is your daughter, your child. I don’t believe the world views her as such, and I don’t see her that way at all.”
“I don’t even want to imagine what it is you think you see.” He looks visibly ill.
Shaking my head, I attempt to explain, “I see a storm trying desperately to settle beneath stunning hues of yellows, greens, and browns. And, for some reason, I see it settle when she is with me. I can’t explain it any further than that. I’m not even sure I want to delve into it any deeper in fear that the time it takes will be wasted on seeing the beauty in it.”
“There is nothing beautiful about …” He snaps his jaw shut, and I know that he’s thinking of all she has gone through and all they have gone through as a family. It’s pain, and it’s fear.
“The beauty is in the strength it takes to fight through it. The beauty is in the way you and her family, even Patrick, surround her and try to protect her from herself. But, with all due respect, and with sincere gratitude for the life you and your wife have created and grown, it may also be part of why it lingers.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about. You—”
“I wouldn’t be so bold as to say I know the answers. But, for some reason, her soul takes solace in mine and mine in hers. Please do not ask me to walk away from something so miraculous, and I promise you I will never ask her to get lost in me alone. I see the love between you all. Never in this lifetime, or any after, would I want to see that disappear. I’ve yet to say the words to her, but I am telling you, I love her to a level I’ve never felt, one without reason and unknown recourse. I promise you, I will not disrespect her or treat her any way but with love.”
“You’re not walking away from this, are you?”
I shake my head. “Not until my heart no longer beats.”
He Loves Me
Tris
Mom grabs my arm to stop me from running to what I am sure will get nasty if I don’t—Dad and Matteo.
“Mom, seriously.”
“I’ve loved your father more than half my life, and I am telling you”—she bear hugs me, which is very uncharacteristic of Mom — “he’s not angry; he’s scared.”
“What?” I ask, annoyed.
“He sees how that man looks at you. He’s afraid he’s going to lose you to him.”
“He’s not going to freaking lose me. I’m not an old penny.” I try to wiggle away, and she doesn’t freaking let me. “Mom, seriously, what has gotten into you?”
“I don’t feel any different than your father does, but if he makes you happy, then—”
I whip around and gawk at her.
“I can’t see you hurt anymore; do you understand?”
“Well, could you at least let me go, for God’s sake?”
“You see, that’s the hardest part. You’re our baby. You weren’t supposed to be the first to fly, but here you are, spreading—”
“I nosedived out of the nest, took some really messed-up turns onto some shady streets, and…” I stop staring at Dad and Matteo to look for Marc, the asshole who Ranger informed me was acting like a “punk-ass bitch,” and don’t see him.
“Tris?”
I look back at Mom. “I’m not losing it. I was looking for the shadiest street of all.”
“I thought you two were okay. Friends even. I was surprised he came. I thought—”
“Friends who should clearly stay an ocean away. But back to the nosedive that led to a trek to the corner of Marc Street and Hell Avenue.” I nod to Matteo and look at her, really look at her, hoping she sees whatever he sees when he looks into my eyes that makes him think I’m something other than deranged. “I wouldn’t change a thing, Mom. I wouldn’t because, if I did, I wouldn’t have met him.”