Hurt Page 4

  “We know,” Nixon growled out. “Pretty sure we all lived through your definition of self-control, Tex.”

  Tex nodded smugly then pulled Mo tightly against him.

  “I’m going to keep going.” Chase held up the diary and kept reading.

  Casper, Wyoming

  July 23, 1997

  I woke up, and, as I expected, Luca knocked once, entered on the second with his tray, and made his way over to my bed. This time, I at least had a fresh face and had pulled my thick dark hair back.

  Again, he pulled out the crossword puzzle and started methodically eating his toast as his eyes examined the hints.

  “Devil,” I finally blurted. “Six across.”

  “Hmm, ironic.” Luca filled in the squares.

  And I kept peeking over his shoulder.

  “Hell,” I answered. “Three down. Are you even trying?”

  Laughing, Luca scribbled in the answer and shrugged. “I may be purposefully doing horrible so you’ll get closer to me. I can still smell your perfume, even after a shower. It’s addicting, like the purest poisons. Only one taste will destroy me, kill me from the inside out, but what a sweet death, Joyce.”

  “What are we doing today?” I cleared my throat and backed away, purposefully breaking the moment, the close contact, so I wouldn’t do something stupid like seduce him.

  “Today...” Luca folded the newspaper. “… we’re going hiking.”

  “Hiking?” I repeated. “Are there trails around here?”

  “I’m Sicilian. I make my own trails,” Luca announced, once again leaving me alone in the room. “Wear boots, Joyce.”

  “Right,” I huffed. “Boots.” I was still sore from the day before. If his plan was to exhaust me so I didn’t launch my body across his and kiss him senseless, it was working.

  The hike in question was more of a nice walk around the property. Yet another picnic had been set up for us near a waterfall. It was beautiful, peaceful, serene.

  On the way back later that afternoon, I tripped over a rock and stumbled into Luca’s strong arms.

  Slowly, he helped me to my feet and brushed the lightest of kisses against my mouth. “Careful, Joyce.”

  My name. The way he said my name. It was like he was declaring love to me each and every time.

  I would never hear my name the same way again.

  I would never take for granted what a name did to a person; how, by just taking time to speak it, life was breathed into that person, forming a unique identity, giving courage, confidence.

  Luca’s arms left mine too quickly. With a firm nod, he walked into the house making his way towards the kitchen and yelled back at me, “Why don’t you get cleaned up while I get some chores done?”

  The man was driving me positively insane.

  I was mad for him and he was going to go feed cows?

  At every opportunity, he’d pulled away. I knew why; I just wished things were different.

  “Oh, Frank,” I whispered. “What have you done to me?”

  Hours later, I was sitting across from Luca. The fire crackled from the living room. He lifted a wine glass to his lips, his eyes focusing on me as he sipped. I watched its redness slide past his lips and into his mouth. And then his swallow… Dear God, his swallow was enough to drive a woman wild, the way his neck moved.

  Suddenly thirsty, I reached for my glass only to find it empty.

  “Careful, Joyce.” Luca smiled brightly. “I would be a horrible host if I allowed you to get drunk.”

  “Maybe then you’d take advantage of me.” Clearly, I was loose-lipped. I slammed my hand over my mouth as embarrassment washed over me in waves.

  Luca stood abruptly, his chair scraping loudly across the wood floor. His eyes zeroed in on my mouth.

  Gulping, my hands flew to my neck and came into contact with the pearls from Frank. Guilt slammed into me.

  “I won’t ever take what hasn’t been freely given to me,” Luca whispered, his fingers grazing the pearls as if he knew exactly where I’d gotten them. “And as much as I want to kiss you, to make love to you, to bury myself in you and never let go— I think we both know that if I start now, I won’t stop, not until you leave. Is it wrong of me…” He offered a crooked smile. “… to want more than your body? To want your soul as well? To flirt with you… cook with you, spend time with you, wake up next to you?”

  I hung my head, breaking eye contact as my fingers fluttered to my chest to calm my heart. “It’s romantic.”

  “Tell me…”

  Luca’s body was so close to mine. He was standing; I was still sitting, my eyes glazed over with want as he leaned closer to me, placing his hands on either side of my chair, his aftershave making me so dizzy with desire I wasn’t sure I would be able to inhale one more time without kissing him.

  “… how often are you left alone? Be honest, Joyce.”

  I licked my lips, ashamed at the truth. Ashamed that the answer was often. Frank left me alone, I thought because he didn’t know what else to do with me. He knew I didn’t love him the way I should, and every time he did stay home and have dinner with me, it was forced, awkward, the only sound silverware scratching against the fine china as the hallway clock chimed in the distance. It was miserable.

  “Often,” I finally answered. “But I’ve always kept to myself, you know that.”

  “Bullshit.” Luca fired back. “I’ve never met a more social woman in my life. Promise me, when you go back to the house, you’ll demand more than one dinner a week. Promise me that you’ll beg him for trips, shopping, jewels, whatever you desire.

  “And if I just desire you? Am I within my rights to ask for you?”

  Luca sighed. “Joyce, you have me. You never lost me. I’ve always been right here.” He placed a hand on my chest then stood to his full height. “It’s getting late.”

  “Yeah.” I croaked. “It is.”

  And for the third night in a row, Luca led me down the hall, kissed me on the head, and told me to sleep well.

  CHAPTER TEN

  What would you do if someone offered you everything you’ve always wanted, but you knew you would have to live with the guilt for the rest of your existence? One moment of passion, a lifetime of regret? Or would you regret never taking the chance in the first place? Would you always wonder? I knew I would. I knew I would wonder. And even though Luca was keeping his promise to Frank, I knew I had to keep mine as well. Frank said he’d forgive me anything — and I was going to make good on that promise of his. Even writing this now, reading back through the pages, I wonder if it was the right choice. Because we do not sin in silence. People may not discover the sin in that very moment, maybe not years from then, but it will always come to light. And ours didn’t just affect Frank… It was the rock thrown through the window that ended up cracking an empire. —Grandma Alfero

  Casper, Wyoming

  July 24, 1997

  “JOYCE,” LUCA BROUGHT IN THE BREAKFAST tray and started his typical morning ritual of reading through the newspaper and starting in on the crossword puzzle.

  His black sweater was so tightly wrapped around his muscled body that my mouth had gone dry. Even the orange juice didn’t help. Every time he shifted on the bed, my heart beat a little faster.

  “What are we doing today, Luca?”

  “I’m so glad you asked, Joyce.” He laughed and said it in such a happy, chipper way that I couldn’t help but roll my eyes and join in laughter. It was easy with Luca. With Frank, it was always forced.

  And part of me wondered if that was my fault.

  That I’d locked down my heart, my very soul, because of what Frank had done.

  I’d never given Frank a fair chance. Because I hadn’t thought he deserved it. If he would have come into our bedroom with breakfast, I would have asked him politely to leave.

  Guilt wrapped its ugly tentacles around me, snaring me, choking me.

  “Swimming,” Luca announced.

  “I have no bathing suit.”<
br />
  “Really?” His eyes widened, and then he leaned in and kissed the tip of my nose, smelling of coffee and oranges. “Neither do I.”

  “Be serious.” I laughed pushing him away.

  “Two things I never joke about…” He winked. “… death and nudity.”

  He hopped off the bed and made his way down the hall, calling behind him for me to get ready.

  Two hours later, we were at a large pond at the far edge of his property. From the naked eye, it looked like a simple pond, but upon entering it, I noticed that the spring was warm, heated, and that the rocks were smooth against my feet, making it impossible to trip. The water was clear all the way down to the smooth grayish-white rocks.

  “Hot springs.” Luca held out his hand.

  I was still questioning my decision to skinny dip with the man who claimed he wouldn’t as much as kiss me, but he seemed unaffected by my nakedness.

  Well, not completely unaffected. Maybe a better description would be that he was physically affected but pretending he was completely fine.

  I stared at him, at his large hands, and then past them to the sculpted body. The last time I’d seen him shirtless he’d been lean, not wiry, young, not fully matured.

  Now? He was all man.

  At least thirty pounds heavier with thick, bulging biceps and a tight expanse of abdominal muscles wrapped around his middle. He was beautiful. His black hair was slicked back with water.

  “Joyce…” His voice held a warning edge. “… move faster, before I turn gray or get shot by another crime family.”

  I made a face then stepped forward, still covering my breasts.

  “Stop.” He held up his hands. “No farther until you grab my hands.”

  “But—“

  “Joyce.” He tsked. “Remove your hands. They’re choking your perfect body and making mine extremely jealous all at once.”

  If the water could have been heated by embarrassment, I would have been boiling at that point, like a chicken being tossed into water for soup.

  Slowly, I dropped my hands.

  Luca looked his fill. His eyes lazily focused in on my chest, his tongue sliding between his lips as if he was trying to remember what my skin tasted like.

  “You’re beautiful,” he whispered reverently.

  The compliment washed over me like a wave of heat. The last time Frank had complimented me had been weeks ago, and even then it had been in passing. Probably because I flinched when he gave me compliments, maybe because they didn’t feel real.

  Everything out of Frank’s mouth felt… fake. But now, I was beginning to wonder if it was fake at all.

  Or if it was me.

  Had it always been me?

  “Stay forever…” Luca said, jolting me from my thoughts. “… just like this.”

  “Naked?” I gasped out a laugh.

  “Yes.” He grinned then tugged me against his hard body. Evidence of his arousal pressed against my stomach as he wrapped his arms around me and placed a lingering kiss against my cheek.

  I could feel him tensing as my body tightened in response.

  “Joyce,” he choked out. “Why don’t we swim?”

  “Right,” I repeated. “Swim.”

  He didn’t move.

  Neither did I.

  “Swim,” he said again.

  “Since we’re in a pond...” I said dumbly, as if he wasn’t aware of where we were standing.

  His arms relaxed against me, and then he was moving, quickly swimming away from me.

  And I was glad.

  Because, when I had Luca — and I would have him — I wanted it to be in a situation where I knew he couldn’t escape.

  I’d tie the man to a damn bed if that was what it took.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  I was so naïve. Stupid, actually, to think that my choices would have no long-lasting consequences. Luca was more than my lover. He was, at the time, my only friend. The only person who I felt in this world TRULY loved me. How sad, that, as I read this, I realize I was surrounded by love. I was just too blind to see it… until it was too late. —Grandma Alfero

  Casper, Wyoming

  July 25, 1997

  WE FELL INTO COMPANIONABLE SILENCE IN the mornings, played and flirted during the day, and at night, Luca kissed me on the head and told me to have sweet dreams.

  Today he took me into town then proceeded to pay some men to help us learn how to line dance.

  I laughed so hard I had tears in my eyes.

  Then Luca pulled me into his arms and danced with me slowly; I was transported back to the first time I met him, the first time I felt real desire in my belly.

  All because he’d looked at me and smiled.

  Never underestimate the power of a smile.

  Casper, Wyoming

  July 26, 1997

  I wish I could report new news. But today was the same. The same breakfast¸ the same lovely afternoon where we went driving in a very large truck all over Luca’s property.

  Wine and checkers filled the rest of the evening, the only difference was that I’d fallen asleep on the couch in Luca’s arms, yet somehow found myself in my own bed that morning.

  My body still ached for his touch.

  And I could tell that he was slowly starting to lose his mind. The other day, I’d touched his face and he’d flinched, cursed, then walked away.

  We had eight days left.

  I was terrified of the clock, so terrified I’d stopped wearing my watch, another gift from Frank, and had since ignored every timepiece in the man’s house.

  Time was not on our side.

  Then again, it never had been.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Casper, Wyoming

  July 27, 1997

  I WAITED IN BED. LUCA DIDN’T come. He always came at eight in the morning.

  And, as much as I hated watches, I’d grabbed mine to make sure it hadn’t stopped. It was eight thirty.

  Frightened, I jumped out of bed and knocked on his door. When he didn’t answer, I pushed it open and let myself in.

  Luca was sitting up in bed, his face a mask of worry, irritation, and what appeared to be murder as he stared at a newspaper in his hands.

  “Luca?”

  “Joyce,” he rasped, not setting the newspaper down.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked, frowning.

  “It will be.” He tossed the newspaper aside, jumped out of bed, and stalked toward me, his granite body flexing with each step he took.

  I backed up against the wall as he placed his hands on either side of my head and leaned in. “Say you’ll remember us.”

  “Every day.” I swallowed the tears in my throat. “I remember us every single day. To breathe is to remember.”

  “To exist...” Luca’s forehead touched mine. “… is to remember.”

  “Is this normal?” I asked. “To feel this way about someone?”

  “No.” Luca shook his head. “It’s a miracle… the same way it’s a miracle that a man like me would be gifted with one last moment with you.”

  “Last?” The word fell from my lips like a curse.

  “Joyce…” He cupped my face. “… you must know this is the only chance we will get. After a few days, I will disappear. The Nicolasi family is… getting pushed back to Sicily.”

  “What?” I shook my head. “What are you talking about?”

  “The Abandonatos are itching to take their spot. With the Campisi’s returning, the Alfero’s, Frank, is now asking politely, mind you, that we return to where we came from. There is no need for the Nicolasi family to stay in the states, to stay where we are not wanted.”

  “But I want you to stay. I want it.” I was yelling. Why was I yelling? Tears started streaming down my face. “So this is it? Are you really telling me I won’t ever see you again?”

  “It’s best this way.” Luca’s eyes filled with tears. “Don’t you see? I cannot simply exist in your world, waiting for Frank to go on trips just so I can lie ne
xt to you in bed. I refuse to be that man, and I refuse to make you that woman.”

  “This is it,” I stated in an emotionless voice. “It’s why Frank will forgive me, isn’t it?”

  Luca was silent.

  I hoped I wasn’t revealing anything about the letter in admitting that. “He knows you’re leaving.”

  “Yes.”

  “Luca?”

  “Joyce?”

  “Kiss me.”

  “Joyce—“

  “Damn it, Luca!” I shoved his chest. “Don’t tell me you love me. Don’t talk in riddles, don’t speak of family, of loyalty, of blood if you aren’t willing to put everything on the line for it!” My chest heaved as I shoved him again and again. “Love me!”

  “I do!” he yelled back.

  “Prove it!”

  “I am!” He gripped my wrists with his hands. “In the only damn way I know how!”

  “By bringing me breakfast in bed? By going swimming? By not touching me?”

  “Joyce…” His eyes were wild. “… by feeding you.”

  “What?”

  “You’re starving,” he whispered. “Doll, you’re wasting away, starving for love… turning into a ghost of yourself. So I feed you, I nourish your soul, and then I take your body, but not at the expense of you losing your soul, don’t you get it? I only take you when you’re healthy, when you come to me rosy, full, nourished, the way I left you.”

  “You left me destroyed.”

  “I thought you dead,” he admitted. “But that changes nothing. How can I take your body, Joyce? How can you ask that of me, when you are still so weak with want to be noticed? To have love? Don’t ask me to do that. Because I am only a man.”

  “You…” My voice trembled as tears streamed down my face. “… are so much more than a man, Luca.” I choked on a sob then collapsed to my knees as realization struck. I had beat cancer, but I hadn’t returned to the same person I had been before.

  I hardly recognized myself in the mirror.

  I was a ghost of myself.