“Fuck! Just forget about yourself for a second. I'm a blooded member. I'm in the goddamn Cleanup Crew. Bear worships the fucking ground you walk on, Snark can't keep his eyes off you, and I bet Viking fucking rubs your feet at night. I would never—fucking never—do anything to endanger my brothers, or anyone they care about. If you won't believe my loyalty to you, then at least believe that I'm fucking loyal to them.” I have to stop and breathe to gather myself.
Alessa's eyes are huge and she's looking up at me, uncertain. She's breathing hard too, and it's making her chest heave. “I just—”
“I'm not your fucking mole.”
“I know. I just thought—you know, it'd be a lot easier to believe if you didn't hate me. I just wish we could talk.”
This again. “What do you have to say that I haven't heard yet?” I grip her harder, which forces her close enough to touch. My mind rushes back to that night that seems so fucking long ago now.
“I used to play pretend,” she whispers. “When I was pregnant, and then afterwards when Izzy and I were alone. I didn’t know which one of you was her father, so I’d pretend you were all there. I told her stories about things you’d do if you were there. I know you think I didn’t care, but I did.”
Those big, beautiful doe eyes look up at me, imploring me to fucking listen. “If I could go back, I’d try harder, but I only ever kept the secret so she’d be safe. I don’t know if I could do it any differently. And I’m sorry that hurt you, but I’d pick Izzy a million times before any of us.”
Jesus fuck. What am I supposed to say to that? “I know. I just don’t know how to move past it.”
“So then what do we do now? I’ll try whatever you ask. Anything.” She strains against my grip, but I'm not ready to let her go. Besides, I enjoy watching her struggle. And the way she fucking wiggles against me. Like I said, I’m a bastard.
“Anything is a dangerous proposition to make.” Fuck, I shouldn't be getting excited by this. I shouldn't be letting her fuck around with my head like this.
But she shakes her head. “No, one of us has to bend, and I’ll let it be me. I trust you.”
“Fuck.” I'm the one who looks away first. “You shouldn’t.”
“You know what?” She struggles again, and this time I let her go so I can take a step back. “I do. We have a child together. You said it yourself. You're one of her fathers and you took a bullet for me. I don’t trust you not to hurt my feelings sometimes but I trust you with my daughter, so I trust you with, well, me.”
I scoff, and I should know better than to fucking listen to her, but… fuck. “What game are you playing?”
“No game. My name is Alessandra Giordano and I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but I don’t think you’re one of them.”
I turn my back on her and draw a deep breath. I don't share this with fucking anyone. Only the Cleanup Crew knows, Eagle-eye, no one else. And now, I guess, Alessa. “What you did? My mom did it too.”
“Hide you?”
I nod. “We grew up just across the river, in Blackworth. I didn't have a rich mob dad like you did. Mom worked at a bar. I wasn't planned. Product of a one night stand or something.” I sit myself on the bed, pushing back until I'm leaning on the stack of pillows against the headboard. “I hate talking about this shit.”
“I'm sorry.” She remains where she is, her arms crossed under her tits.
“The last thing I fucking want is your pity.” I shake my head. “The only reason I'm even talking is because you deserve to fucking know.”
All sorts of emotions course through me. Anger. Regret. Reluctance. And memories better forgotten. It takes me a while before I speak, but she waits patiently.
I crack my jaw and look up so suddenly she jumps. “I never knew why Mom didn't tell him. I never asked, you know? It was just how life was. She didn't talk to me much. I don't think she ever fucking wanted me. She was ashamed. But when I hit school, all the other kids had dads, or at least knew the fucker who didn’t show up for their baseball game. I didn’t even have someone to be pissed at. All I had was a mom who told me to stay in my damn room and shut up. It was fucking naive, but I always felt like everything would've been better with my dad around.” I look up at the ceiling, but I’m seeing the one with chipped paint in a house that doesn’t even exist anymore. “They're just stupid kid thoughts.”