"We're just leaving her here? After what we just saw?"
"Yes."
Tristan stood in front of the door, blocking my way. "Luca, that's fucked up and you know it."
I did know it, but there was nothing I could fucking do about it at the moment, and that made me want to hit something. I narrowed my eyes at him as the blood rushed to my head. "Why do you continue to question me about her?" Frustrated with myself and everyone around me, I stepped into his personal space. Eye to eye, I smiled as he stilled. "Why does it matter so much to you?" I challenged.
His eyes darkened, and a muscle jumped in his jaw, clearly visible beneath his close-cut beard. I felt the tension grow between us. I fucking fed off it as I waited for him to throw the first punch. Because it couldn't be me. I would lose him forever if it was me. No one had to tell me that. Tristan was fucked up in a way I would never understand, which was perfect for this moment when my mood swung back and forth like a pendulum and a good fight would only give me an outlet for my rage. And his. The emotion a constant simmer just beneath the surface of his skin. But I couldn't strike first. Instinct told me he would never forgive me.
Enzo stepped between us, shoving his bulk between our bodies with his back to Tristan. "Jesus Christ. Back off, Luca. Right fucking now."
"Or what?" I asked him, without taking my eyes from Tristan.
Reaching up, he removed his sunglasses. "You don't want to do this. Not now. Not with Tris. If you're still itching for a fight, you can take it out on me."
He was right. I knew this. And yet, I couldn't force my feet to move.
Enzo knew me better than anyone. "Tristan, why don't you go get the car? Tristan!"
With a jerk, his eyes shifted to Enzo's profile. He gave a nod, turned, and walked outside.
Enzo gave me a shove, forcing me back. I wiped the back of my hand across my mouth and fixed my coat.
"What the fuck is your problem, Luca?"
That was a good question.
"Luca!"
I shoved past him as Tristan pulled the car around to the front of the funeral home, Enzo hot on my heels. He didn't say anything else. Not until we got into the car.
Then he turned around in his seat to give me a hard stare. "What the hell is the matter with you?"
"Take us home, Tristan," I ordered, ignoring him.
"I asked you a fucking question, Luca. We've known each other a long time, and I've never been anything but loyal to you, but if you think I'm going to stick around when you can't even keep your shit together—"
"You don't need to worry about me," I told him.
He shook his head, turning to fasten his seat belt when the SUV wouldn't stop chiming. "Don't turn into your father," he said quietly.
I turned to look out the window. He was right. He was fucking right, and I knew it. "I apologize, Tris," I told him.
He glanced at me in the rearview mirror but said nothing.
"Fuck." I scrubbed my face with my hands.
"It's alright," Tristan said.
"No, it's not alright," Enzo countered, turning back around to point a finger at me. "It's not fucking alright at all. You need to burn off some steam? Fine. We do it in the fucking gym. You don't turn on the only two friends you fucking have."
Enough with this shit. "Are you forgetting who you work for?" I asked him.
He didn't even blink at my cold tone. "Are you forgetting who keeps your ass alive?"
His words hit me like a bucket of ice. "No," I said after a pause. "No. I haven't forgotten."
Satisfied, he turned back around in his seat. "I love you, Luca. You know that. I love you like a brother. But you ever go after Tristan like that again—"