Page 49 of Chaos & Carnage
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“Whose house is this?” I ask later that day. We’re all still sprawled out on the sofa cushions. Our chill day has been everything we needed. Not only has it given us some much-needed downtime before we tackle Giovanni, but it’s also given the guys a chance to be around one another in a non-stressful situation. All of their interactions until now have been about getting me back, Giovanni, and the Bastards—all stressful and only serving as reminders that they come from two different parts of Black Creek. But when all of that falls by the wayside, they actually get along reasonably well.
Don’t get me wrong, most of the day has involved them talking smack to each other, but it’s all done with laughter and smug smirks.
“Oliver’s,” Cain says when silence follows my question.
I flick my gaze to Oliver, my eyebrows raised in surprise as I wonder why he didn’t tell me that himself. He’s frowning, but I’m not sure why.
“I haven’t decided if I want it yet,” he grumbles.
“Why wouldn’t you want it?” Enzo asks, glancing around the room as if seeing it for the first time. “Other than the fact that it needs a hell of a lot of work.”
“When we were kids, this was where I lived. My father owned it before he died.” Tight lines form around Oliver’s mouth as he seems to lose himself in a memory. “He spent most of his day sitting right here, in front of the TV, with a bottle of vodka within reach. Pretty much the only time he’d bother his ass to get out of his chair was to teach me a lesson in manners.”
Reaching out, I wrap my fingers around his, squeezing his hand. “I’m sorry.”
He simply shrugs. “It’s not your fault. It is what it is. Besides, after he died, I moved in with Cain, and there was a short period where everything was good...”
…Until Evie was taken.
He doesn’t say that last part aloud, and he doesn’t need to.
“Nothing like having a shitty parent to make you want to be better for your own kids.”
We all turn to look at Dante. He holds Oliver’s gaze until he nods in agreement. “Definitely. No matter how much bullshit life throws at me, I'll never be him. Any kids I have”—Oliver’s gaze briefly flicks my way, and I swear I see a promise in his eyes before he focuses back on Dante—“will know nothing but love. They’ll never doubt how much they mean to me.”
My heart clenches as highly inappropriate images of Oliver as a father infiltrate my mind. I can just picture him cooing over a small bundle cradled in his arms, teaching a little boy to play ball in the street, fussing over a little girl every time she scrapes her knees.
My attention shifts to Dante as he nods, wondering if that’s partly why he’s been trying to better himself. Has he given consideration to children in the future? I already feel sorry for any daughter of his. Overbearing won’t even be a strong enough word to describe Dante if he has a baby girl. Especially when she’s a teenager and boys start taking an interest. Any boy brave enough to ask her out will probably piss himself when he comes face-to-face with Dante.
Actually… I lean back, looking at each of them, viewing all of them as a whole, because the child won’t just be Dante’s or Oliver’s, or Cain’s or Enzo’s. Any child we conceive will have all four of them as overbearing, helicopter fathers.
Any son will have Oliver to teach them how to treat girls, Enzo to turn to when they’re having a bad day, Dante to sit with when they don’t feel like talking, and Cain, who will probably get them into all sorts of trouble.
Oliver will be the only one our daughter can talk to about boys. Enzo will help her pull pranks on the rest of us, Dante will spoil her, and Cain probably won’t let her out of his sight. But, all in all, our children would be so damn loved. No one and nothing would hurt them, and anyone who dared would face the wrath of all five of us—not something any sane person would want to invoke.
“What did your parents do to gain my father’s attention?” Dante asks, a furrow forming between his brows as he shifts his focus to Cain. “It’s something I’ve been wondering about. I would have been about fifteen then, I think, but nothing stands out in my mind.”
Cain shakes his head. “I’m not sure. Everything seemed fine with my parents until that day when Santos showed up on our street. That night, my father never came home. Mom was too distraught over Evie, but I remember a few of the neighbors went searching for him. It was a week before his body washed up at the docks. Mom didn’t want me to see him like that, but I overheard someone saying he’d been shot execution-style. Fitted with the fact Evie had been taken by yo—Antonellis, but I don’t know what he did to piss your father off. Mom would never talk about it, and honestly, I didn’t waste time asking. Whatever he did, and why he did it, didn’t matter in the face of losing my entire family.”
A heavy silence hangs in the air, the weight of all of our pasts threatening to suffocate us. After a moment, Dante softly says, “For what it’s worth, I am sorry about your sister. I would never have allowed Santos to… do what he did, if I’d known. In some ways, I’m every bit my father’s son, but—” he grinds his teeth, “I would never toleratethat.”
Cain’s eyes roam over Dante’s face, his expression unreadable. I’m not sure what he’s looking for, but I’m guessing whatever it is, he finds it. “I appreciate that.” His voice is rough, thick with emotion. “You know, you’re less like your father than you think. Each of us is a product of our parents, of our pasts, of the fucked-up childhoods we had. But we’re also who we are despite our parents.”
“Should we leave you two alone for a moment with your feelings?” Enzo jokes once another silence falls following Cain’s declaration. “Perhaps you wanna cry over girly movies and paint each other’s nails? Oh, oh, please tell me you’re gonna hug each other. I need my phone if you are. No fucking way am I going to miss capturing that and holding it over your heads for the rest of time.”
“Shut the fuck up, you asshole,” Cain growls, shoving Enzo in the shoulder. Oliver snickers, and I hide my smile behind my hand. The moment breaks the onerous atmosphere, which I imagine is exactly what Enzo intended, and we all fall back into easy banter.
The rest of the day goes by far too quickly, and that night I curl up in bed between Oliver and Cain with a smile on my face, hoping it won’t be too long before we can have another day like that. One where our greatest worries are who has to get up next to grab snacks and what movie we want to watch first. One where Cain, Oliver, Enzo, and Dante can all get to know each other better without the pressure of their opposing empires muddying the water. One where we can laugh and joke and simply be without worrying that the next phone call will bring more death and bad news.
When I close my eyes, that’s what I’m wishing for… a lifetime of days like today.
Chapter 18
Dante’s contact—Antonio—gets back to him the next morning, effectively dousing the afterglow of our chill day yesterday. Surprisingly, I actually had fun just hanging out. It was kinda like going to the bar for a few drinks with some of the guys we work with, except better because Sawyer was there too. I thought without the hostility and discussing one of the two things we have in common—Sawyer and taking down Giovanni—that it would be awkward, but for the most part, it was fine. Once we set all our differences aside, it was surprisingly easy to get along with them—well, Oliver. Cain is a prickly asshole. I’m still not sure what Sawyer sees in him, unless it’s all about the angry-sex vibe he gives off. In which case, I could definitely understand.
There were only a few awkward silences during the day, and Sawyer provided a very sexy buffer when needed. Wearing only an oversized t-shirt and smelling of sex, she was enough of a distraction that I don’t even remember what we ended up watching.