I know why. He wants to appear strong, doesn’t want me to think he’s weak.
He needn’t bother. I know he’s strong, surviving what he’s been through. I close my eyes and shake my head. He just needs to let me in.
I know he drinks when I lay down at night, trying to suppress those unwanted memories, smother those dark feelings. I saw him last night, drinking while writing in his journal. My heart hurt for him, seeing him sitting there vulnerable and in pain. I stare at the journal, now laying on my bed.
I hate to see him when he’s like that. Alone with his thoughts. Consumed by his past. He becomes a different man and puts me aside. I loathe it.
He needs someone to help him get over his past. And I want to be that person.
Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do? Be there for him, like he’s trying to be here for me?
I just want to get to know him. I don’t like how he shuts me out or when he goes to his study late at night. I’m grateful he lets me read what he’s written. In a lot of ways that’s his way of talking it through. Talking to me.
He needs that. I know first hand how powerful it can be to just talk things out. Even if it’s just your school guidance counselor. Maybe if I open up to him, he might then finally open up to me.
Gathering my courage, I sit up in bed and roll over onto the edge, my feet dangling off the side. I’m about to slip into the plush, white slippers, when I hear an angry shout downstairs. My heart racing, I slip off the bed and rush from the room.
As I’m rushing up the hallway to Joseph’s study, the voices get louder. He’s arguing about something with another man. Their voices are muffled so I can’t understand exactly what they’re saying, but it doesn’t take a genius to know whatever it is, it’s not good.
Stay out of it, the voice in the back of my head warns. I know I shouldn’t go down there. My blood is freezing and my heart refuses to beat because yells are coming from both Joseph and someone else. It’s more than a heated argument. But my feet are moving before I can stop them. I have to see. I have to make sure he’s okay.
But I can’t go unarmed. The thought chills my spine, paralyzing my movements before sending me quickly on a different path.
I make it down the hall into Joseph’s room, the voices rumbling like thunder throughout the house, making my blood freeze. I hear Joseph yell something that sounds like an awful threat. I’ve never heard him sound so angry. Fuck, I’m scared.
I rush into Joseph’s closet, shaking and trembling, my heart skipping every other beat. The room spins around me as I steady my clammy palms on my thighs. I can hardly breathe. What the fuck did I get myself into.
He was in the mafia.
He was a bad man.
I take in an unsteady breath, staring at the suits that block the gun rack. I didn’t for one second think he had anything to hide other than his dark past.
My fingers are trembling as I push his suits aside and swallow thickly at the sight of the guns. I stand there for a moment, my heart thump thump thumping as the noises downstairs gets louder. Staring at all the cold hard steel, my heart bounces around like a fighter in a cage.
I’ve used a gun before, but only for target practice. I don’t know which to choose.
But I don’t have time to sit here debating with myself. Joseph might need me. My throat closes as I quickly grab one of the Glock’s and check if it’s loaded. It is.
The click of the gun makes my heart pound faster, I rush out of the closet and out of his bedroom, and down the hall to his study, holding the gun down carefully at my side and trying to be quiet for once in my life.
I stop to the side of the door of his study, my heart racing, and dare to peek inside. My heart pounds. Thump. Thump. Thump. The cold steel seems to heat as my palm sweats, making my grip on it weak.
Joseph’s sitting at his desk, his face a mask of rage and there’s a man in a black suit standing in the center of the room with his arms crossed across his chest.
They’re arguing with each other, the man in black waving his hands sporadically before running his hand over his shiny bald head. Neither of them can see me from this angle, so I slip into the study, hiding behind the table, eavesdropping on their conversation. I can hardly keep my hands from trembling and the grip on the gun as I listen.
“The La familia wants you back,” the man is saying, his voice incredibly harsh. “Did you think they just forget about you when you left?” He has a thick accent, but it sure as fuck isn’t Italian. I’m trying to be quiet, but I feel like they’re going to hear me just from my breathing.
“I don’t give a fuck what they think,” Joseph growls.
“Oh really? Do you really want to play this game?”
“I don’t want to play anything. I’m done with that life. I’m a different man.” The confidence in Joseph’s voice makes me proud of him. I find myself nodding my head, although my heart is still begging me to get the fuck out of here.
The man in black lets out a harsh laugh. “You’re not done until the la familia’s says you’re done.” His quiet answer makes me want to peek around the table. My fingers grip the edge, but I can’t do it. I’m frozen in place. “You can lie to yourself all you want to, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’ve killed in the name of la familia. That’ll never go away, no matter how hard you try to forget, or no matter how many lies you try to tell yourself.”
My heart stutters. Joseph’s killed people. Goosebumps run over every inch of my skin.
There’s a moment of silence and I swear the only thing I can hear is the pounding of my heart. I’m afraid even Joseph and the man in black can hear it. Maybe that’s why they’re quiet; they know I’m in the room.
“You have 10 seconds to get the fuck outta here,” Joseph growls suddenly, his voice dark and deadly. My blood chills at the note in his voice. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him so angry, so ruthless. It lets me know that whoever this man is, he has really gotten under Joseph’s skin.
There’s another pause, almost a hesitation, as if the man is wondering if he should press his luck and call Joseph’s bluff. Please don’t. My pointer finger steadies on the gun in my hand, although I’m too afraid to even open my eyes.
I can barely hear the man respond, “La familia will be waiting for you.”
He turns to leave, and when he does, I dare a peak from behind my hiding place. I catch a glimpse of dark hair, dark cold eyes and handsome features that remind me of Joseph’s, except his are marred by the absolute ruthlessness stamped on his face.
For an instant, his cold eyes meet mine.
Fuck.
I sink down almost immediately, but I think he saw me. I know he did.
I can hear Joseph rise and follow the man out, the sounds of their shoes smacking against the ground, so much softer than the sound of my wild heart. He saw me. Fuck!!
Before I can even move, Joseph returns and closes the door.
I sit there, clinging to the gun, my heart pounding, wondering what I should do. I’m fucking scared. I don’t know what kind of shit Joseph is in, but I want no part in it. The man claimed Joseph killed before. He killed people.
After a moment, I decide to remain hidden until Joseph leaves the room. However long that takes.
But I don’t get the chance.