59
JOHNNY
“Honestly, Claire. I’m not mad.”
She reaches out to stop me from pacing back and forth. “J. You’ve barely said a word since last night. Sure, you’re here, you haven’t left or kicked me out. But we have to talk, please. This silence is driving me insane.”
I face her, seeing the hurt that runs much deeper than the damage Franklin’s men caused. I’ve stayed with her every second since I found her in that abandoned building, afraid if I don’t keep her within arm’s reach, something terrible will happen.
Everything keeps falling apart, and the one thing I refuse to let go of is her.
“I’m not going tokick you out.This isourhome. You.” I press my finger to her chest. “And me.”
A quiet resolve settles over her. Did she really think I’d bail on her? Yeah, I’m freaking out. About Franklin. Luciano. Literally, all the shit that’s happening. But choosing to walk away from her because she was looking out for me? That would be foolish.
I absolutely wish she would have told me the truth, but I understand why she didn’t.
Our bond may be deep, but our relationship is still fresh. We’re figuring each other out. This is just part of the process. Good things don’t come easy, and what Claire and I have, it’s better than great.
What happened was not betrayal, and for that, I refuse to allow it to get between us.
If only I could figure out how to articulate all of this to her while managing the shit storm that keeps coming our way.
After Luciano left last night, I took Claire into our bathroom and finished tending her injuries as best as I could. I drew a warm bath and helped her undress and slink down into it. She had asked me to join her, and with my heart still aching from nearly losing her, I removed my clothes and slid in behind her. Her head had rested against my chest, and I fought to balance feeling so incredibly lucky for this beautiful angel in my presence and so fucking infuriated that I allowed her to get hurt.
I held her until it was time to get out and dry off, and even then, I made sure she was moisturized and that her hair was combed. I carefully slipped one of my T-shirts over her head and let her borrow a pair of my boxers because I thought it would be the most comfortable option. I tucked her into our bed and climbed in with her, desperate to show her how sorry I am.
I didn’t sleep a wink, my mind wandering between rage and regret, fluttering every now and then to utter confusion.
I have a dad. Well, I knew I did, I just had no clue who he was, or that he was alive.
I thought it was just me, my mom’s death leaving me on my own. I have my cousin, but that was it. He was never around. And from what I knew, his family was long gone, too. It wasn’t really something we talked about, since we were too busy trying to figure out how to fend for ourselves. I had a strange childhood, one I wouldn’t wish on anyone else—another reason why I was so adamant about Billy staying as far away from Franklin as possible. At least I managed to succeed at something.
Questions rattle my brain. Like the major one—why did Luciano fail to ever be a part of my life?
Plus, who the hell is he?
The dude is clearly loaded. He owns a café, which is more than likely a front for whatever criminal enterprise he’s running. Diner owners don’t have guys on call for body disposal.
He’s related to Franklin. They’re brothers.
Does that mean Luciano is the other side of the same coin?
And how does Josey know him?
Luciano mentioned them having bad blood—what does that mean?
“Johnny.” Claire snaps her fingers in front of my face. “You zoned out again.” She frowns, which comes out even sadder with the condition she’s in. Swollen, puffy, redness turning into various shades of bruising, butterfly bandages holding together the cuts. “Did you sleep at all?”
It’s difficult to even look at her. Not because I can’t stomach stuff like that; I’ve definitely had my own fair share of bloody noses and busted lips—but the fact that it’s Claire, my sweet girl. It makes me want to rush out of this apartment and rip apart every single person standing between me and Franklin and then slowly torture him, ensuring he feels every ounce of pain I can possibly inflict on him.
I was never a violent person. Not until I had something worth fighting for.
Now? There’s no stopping what I would do to get even with him and anyone who ever dared lay a finger on her.
“Yeah, a little bit.” We both know that’s a lie.
I glance at my watch, the secondhand ticking by slowly while we wait for Luciano to show back up.