like he’s trying to be here for me?
I just want to get to know him. I don’t like how he shuts me out or when he goes to his study late at night. I’m grateful he lets me read what he’s written. In a lot of ways that’s his way of talking it through. Talking to me.
He needs that. I know first hand how powerful it can be to just talk things out. Even if it’s just your school guidance counselor. Maybe if I open up to him, he might then finally open up to me.
Gathering my courage, I sit up in bed and roll over onto the edge, my feet dangling off the side. I’m about to slip into the plush, white slippers, when I hear an angry shout downstairs. My heart racing, I slip off the bed and rush from the room.
As I’m rushing up the hallway to Joseph’s study, the voices get louder. He’s arguing about something with another man. Their voices are muffled so I can’t understand exactly what they’re saying, but it doesn’t take a genius to know whatever it is, it’s not good.
Stay out of it, the voice in the back of my head warns. I know I shouldn’t go down there. My blood is freezing and my heart refuses to beat because yells are coming from both Joseph and someone else. It’s more than a heated argument. But my feet are moving before I can stop them. I have to see. I have to make sure he’s okay.
But I can’t go unarmed. The thought chills my spine, paralyzing my movements before sending me quickly on a different path.
I make it down the hall into Joseph’s room, the voices rumbling like thunder throughout the house, making my blood freeze. I hear Joseph yell something that sounds like an awful threat. I’ve never heard him sound so angry. Fuck, I’m scared.
I rush into Joseph’s closet, shaking and trembling, my heart skipping every other beat. The room spins around me as I steady my clammy palms on my thighs. I can hardly breathe. What the fuck did I get myself into.
He was in the mafia.
He was a bad man.
I take in an unsteady breath, staring at the suits that block the gun rack. I didn’t for one second think he had anything to hide other than his dark past.
My fingers are trembling as I push his suits aside and swallow thickly at the sight of the guns. I stand there for a moment, my heart thump thump thumping as the noises downstairs gets louder. Staring at all the cold hard steel, my heart bounces around like a fighter in a cage.
I’ve used a gun before, but only for target practice. I don’t know which to choose.
But I don’t have time to sit here debating with myself. Joseph might need me. My throat closes as I quickly grab one of the Glock’s and check if it’s loaded. It is.
The click of the gun makes my heart pound faster, I rush out of the closet and out of his bedroom, and down the hall to his study, holding the gun down carefully at my side and trying to be quiet for once in my life.
I stop to the side of the door of his study, my heart racing, and dare to peek inside. My heart pounds. Thump. Thump. Thump. The cold steel seems to heat as my palm sweats, making my grip on it weak.
Joseph’s sitting at his desk, his face a mask of rage and there’s a man in a black suit standing in the center of the room with his arms crossed across his chest.
They’re arguing with each other, the man in black waving his hands sporadically before running his hand over his shiny bald head. Neither of them can see me from this angle, so I slip into the study, hiding behind the table, eavesdropping on their conversation. I can hardly keep my hands from trembling and the grip on the gun as I listen.
“The La familia wants you back,” the man is saying, his voice incredibly harsh. “Did you think they just forget about you when you left?” He has a thick accent, but it sure as fuck isn’t Italian. I’m trying to be quiet, but I feel like they’re going to hear me just from my breathing.
“I don’t give a fuck what they think,” Joseph growls.
“Oh really? Do you really want to play this game?”
“I don’t want to play anything. I’m done with