Friends & Forever

  "They're charging you with attempted murder."

  Carmine blanched. Attempted murder? "I didn't—"

  Vincent raised a hand to silence him before he could even start pleading his case. "They say you unloaded a gun into Nicholas's truck with him there. Is that true?"

  "Of course not. I'm innocent. That's what we say, right? Always innocent."

  "That's what we're going to say, but I'm asking you, son… is it true?"

  Carmine scoffed. He wanted to say something mocking, to ask his father why the hell he was pretending to care right now, but he was too frazzled.

  Attempted murder?

  Instead, bitter laughter rattled his chest.

  "This isn’t a joke, son."

  "Isn’t it?” Carmine muttered, uncomfortably shifting position. "I thought the, uh, punch line was pretty good, personally."

  Vincent shook his head. "I feel like I don't even know you anymore, Carmine. You're better than this. You weren't raised this way."

  "Wasn't I?"

  Vincent didn't have a response to that.

  "Look, I didn't try to kill him. I just… I wanted to scare him. I wanted to piss him off. I wanted to hurt him."

  He wanted Nicholas to hurt as much as he hurt.

  "Oh, you definitely succeeded there." Vincent ran his hands down his face. "I'll see what I can do. Just stay quiet and be on your best behavior until I sort this out, okay?"

  Carmine nodded slowly. Vincent reached over and patted him on the back, squeezing his neck as if trying to reassure him. It was the most fatherly gesture he'd felt from the man in years.

  Carmine fucking hated himself for relishing it.

  * * *

  Carmine was locked up overnight and released the next afternoon into his father's custody.

  Three weeks later, he found himself right back at the police station, but there were no handcuffs this time. Carmine sat in a conference room, a long wooden table separating him and Nicholas. Their fathers and lawyers flanked both of them, while the District Attorney, the Chief of Police, and a Superior Court judge occupied the other chairs.

  It was off the record, a meeting that nobody would ever know happened except for the people invited into the room. Vincent had paid a lot of money to make it go down this way, had called in a lot of favors—favors Carmine wasn't sure he ever wanted to know about.

  A small twinge of guilt settled deep in his chest as he glared across the table straight at Nicholas. Why did he feel guilty? He wasn't sure. Maybe it was for what he had done… or maybe it was for what he still had the urge to do.

  "So, here's the arrangement," the DA said, shifting through the stack of papers in front of him. "The DeMarco family agrees to be liable for all property damage and pay restitution in the amount of a quarter million dollars. Carmine is barred from the Aurora Lake community and is to stay away from the Barlow family."

  Carmine didn't react, still staring straight ahead, as Nicholas muttered something under his breath.

  "In exchange, all charges against Carmine will be dropped," the DA continued. "There's the matter of school that needs to be addressed, however."

  "Won't be a problem," Vincent said assuredly. Carmine's brow furrowed, but he still didn't look away from his old friend. Both boys had been suspended for the fight at the homecoming dance, but they were supposed to head back to Durante High next week.

  They had all their fucking classes together.

  "Yeah." Joshua Barlow cleared his throat. "I've pulled Nicholas out of Durante. He's enrolled up here in Aurora County now."

  Nicholas muttered again, louder that time, clearly not happy about that. Aurora's football program was shit. If you wanted to go anywhere, you needed a team like Durante behind you.

  Sucks for him.

  "Great," the DA said. "It's all settled then. As far as I'm concerned, you two never have to cross paths again."

  They said some parting words as everyone got up to leave, but Carmine remained in his seat, unmoving. Nicholas didn't move, either. They glared at each other as the others filtered out. Vincent hesitated by the door, eyeing the two of them warily, but shrugged it off and walked out instead.

  Slowly, Nicholas pushed his chair back to stand up. "You know, DeMarco, I would've forgiven you. I would've. I was pissed about my sister, but I would've gotten over it. You were my best friend."

  "Not anymore," Carmine said.

  "You're right. Not anymore. Because this? I'm not sure I can forgive you for this."

  "It doesn't matter," Carmine said, glaring at him. "Because I'll never forgive you."

  Nicholas shook his head. "I don't get why you're so pissed. You tried to kill me."

  "You did something even worse."

  "What's that?"

  "You betrayed me."

  Nicholas scoffed. "Whatever. You'll learn someday, DeMarco."

  Carmine's eyes narrowed. That sounded vaguely like a threat. "Learn what?"

  "Learn that this? Relationships? Friendships? They're a two-way street. And until you get over yourself, you'll never keep anybody. I'll make sure of it."

  * * *

  Later that night, Carmine was sitting in the living room at his house, vaguely watching a movie, when his father walked in and tossed a brochure on his lap. Sighing with annoyance, Carmine picked it up and glanced at the front.

  Benton Academy

  "We're leaving the day after tomorrow," Vincent said, "so you might want to start packing your things."

  "You're sending me away? Really?"

  "You did this to yourself, Carmine."

  Carmine stared at the brochure as his father walked out.

  He did it to himself. He did.

  But it didn't stop him from blaming everybody else for it, anyway.

  "Whatever," he grumbled to the empty room, standing up and throwing the brochure down on the coffee table without even opening it. What did it matter? He had no reason to stay in Durante, anyway.

  Wasn't like he had any friends.

  Forever.

  Impatient pounding vibrated the wooden blue door. Carmine stood at the top of the staircase at the house on Felton Drive in Chicago, staring down at the foyer in the dim lighting. Shadows swept across the front door, but enough early evening sunlight still streamed inside for him to see it shaking from the force of the knocks.

  "Can you get that?" Haven asked, stepping out of a bedroom behind him. Carmine continued to stare at the door in silence, watching as the knob jiggled. Jesus Christ, they were practically trying to break in. Haven sighed loudly at his lack of movement, slipping past him. "Okay, then… I'll get it."

  She took the steps two at a time and paused in the foyer to undo the half dozen locks he insisted they use, as another form ran out of the bedroom and pushed past Carmine, not nearly as delicate about it as Haven had been. The blurry pink, sparkling mass nearly knocked him off his fucking feet, sending him stumbling a few steps, as they darted downstairs and out of view.

  "Excuse you!" Carmine shouted.

  "Excuse me!" a little voice shouted back, the back door opening and slamming again before Haven could even get the other door unlocked.

  Haven pulled the front door open, a blast of sunlight sweeping over her, making her practically glow. She started to speak, barely getting a syllable out when someone rushed inside. The tiny football player slammed right into her, like he was a linebacker sacking the fucking quarterback.

  Stumbling back a few steps, Haven laughed, grasping ahold of the little boy and wrapping her arms around him in a hug.

  "Vinnie! What did I tell you about tackling people?"

  The loud, grating voice rang out right away, the familiarity making Carmine grimace, seconds before the bright blonde head appeared in the foyer.

  Tess.

  She stepped inside, reaching for her son, but Haven pulled him aside, out of reach of his mother. "Oh, he's fine. He's only five."

  Tess rolled her eyes as the boy slipped away, sprinting through the house for the ba
ck door. "No running inside, Vinnie!"

  "That's okay, too," Haven said, waving toward him as he headed out into the back yard. "It's certainly nothing new around here. Besides, he's not hurting anything."

  Carmine snickered under his breath, watching Tess's cheek twitch as she bit back a response. While Tess didn't like to have anyone contradict her, she knew in this house, Haven's word was law. She spoke, and everyone fucking listened, even Carmine, who had a habit of not listening to anybody.

  Corrado could certainly attest to that. Carmine liked to think it was his inability to follow rules that saved him from a life of mayhem. Corrado knew he wouldn't make it, that he wouldn't last much longer in the life.

  Never had Carmine been so damn grateful to fuck up at something so important.

  But while Carmine never listened to anybody else, he listened to his wife. It was less about authority and more about respect, he figured. After the shit Haven went through in other people's houses growing up, the least she deserved was some control in her own home. So if she wanted to paint the walls bubblegum pink and let people run around like fucking banshees, so be it.

  Tess dropped the matter with a shake of the head, muttering under her breath. "Spoken like a true auntie."

  Haven smiled, as if she wore that shit like a badge of honor, as her attention turned to the still open door. Dominic stepped into view, grinning, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Excitement oozed from the fucker as he stood there, cloaked in all black except for the hideous clown mask perched on top of his head, ripped straight out of a Stephen King flick.

  "Twinkle toes," he said, his voice high-pitched. "You ready for this?"

  She nodded eagerly. "Are you?"

  "Oh you know it," he said. "I was born ready."

  Rolling his eyes, Carmine descended the stairs, not feeling a fraction of the enthusiasm those two put off. Everyone looked up at the sound of his approach. Haven and Dom smiled, while Tess greeted him with her usual I wish I didn't have to deal with this asshole scowl. He tipped his head at her, foregoing his usual sarcastic greeting.

  Play nice today, Haven had said.

  Sure, that had been meant for the tiniest DeMarcos, but like Carmine said: when Haven spoke, he sure as fuck tried to listen.

  "Don't you look chipper," Dom said sarcastically, punching his arm when he wordlessly strode by. "What's got you so sunshiny today?"

  Before Carmine could respond, Tess chimed in. "Sobriety. I thought he was insufferable as a drunk, but sober? He's perpetually PMSing."

  Carmine opened his mouth to take a swipe back at her when Haven interjected. "Be nice. It's been one of those days."

  One of those days.

  Haven didn't elaborate, but they all knew what she meant. One of those days where Carmine's sleep had been plagued with nightmares and his waking hours hadn't been much better. The numbness, the feelings of guilt, his insides taut like a coil. It's been years, but memories still haunted him, triggered unexpectedly out of nowhere.

  PTSD, the doctors said. Watching a parent die violently is traumatic. Carmine had been the lucky fucker to go through that shit twice. As a kid, it left him frozen, unresponsive and guilt-stricken. As an adult, well...

  Yeah, sometimes sobriety really fucking sucked.

  They started talking again while Carmine slipped away, heading for the back yard where the kids had disappeared. He spotted his nephew right away, hiking a football behind him at nobody. Vincent. Tough shoes to fill, Carmine thought. He wondered how the boy would feel about the name when he grew up and came to the realization that his grandfather had been a hell of a lot more than just a small town doctor.

  Carmine strolled over, snatching up the ball when the boy threw it between his legs. He palmed the football, his fingers settling between the laces and resting against the worn brown leather. A strange sense of ease settled over him. Man, it had been years since he played, but the familiarity was striking, like riding a bike.

  Vinnie stood up straight and turned toward him. "Can you throw, Uncle Carmine?"

  Carmine laughed under his breath. "I think so."

  Vinnie's eyes lit up, and he stood there with his hands out, waiting as Carmine backed up. He threw the ball, watching the perfect spiral as it sailed across the yard, straight to the little boy. Vinnie tried to catch it, getting his hands around it, but his grip slipped, the ball tumbling into the grass. The boy snatched it right up, though, and reared back, throwing it with all his might. It wobbled horribly but came right toward Carmine. He didn't even have to move to catch it.

  "Wow!" Vinnie said, eyes widening. "You're good!"

  Carmine smiled, only responding with a slight shrug of the shoulder, before throwing the ball again. They tossed it back and forth for a few minutes before a squeal echoed through the yard. Carmine looked around instinctively, seeking out the source, his eyes falling on the little pink form hanging from a tree branch. Un-fucking-believable.

  "Get down before you break something," Carmine said, catching the ball when Vinnie threw it again. "You hurt yourself and your mother's liable to hurt me."

  The little girl listened without hesitation, letting go of the tree branch and dropping to the ground, falling right on her ass. Carmine winced, tossing the ball back to Vinnie, as she picked herself right back up, showing no signs of distress. She ran straight for them, her princess gown fucking filthy, already torn, the matching tiara long gone. The hair her mother had tormented over all goddamn afternoon, curling and fixing, was now destroyed, frizzy and bushy and fifty shades of fucked up.

  What else did he expect, though, from a child that carried his genes? The girl never stood a chance. Rowdiness was encoded in her DNA. Only three years old and she was already a tiny terror, fearless and reckless. She wasn't a bad kid. No, not at all. But she had a spirit that couldn't be broken, a wildness that couldn't be tamed. The girl was strong-willed and passionate.

  And Carmine fucking loved it.

  He'd been worried about having a kid, but even more worried about having a daughter. Daughters terrified him. Boys broke hearts indiscriminately. They didn't care whose daughter it was. Carmine knew, because he'd been one of them. And it terrified him, the thought of karma catching up to him and his child being on the receiving end. He'd spent a lot of his life paying for his father's countless sins. He didn't want his daughter to have to pay for his.

  But her? Maura Miranda DeMarco?

  He wasn't worried at all.

  If anything, the boys would need to watch out for her.

  "Oh, me!" she squealed, jumping up and down, her bare feet dirty from running around in the grass. "Me! Me! Throw it to me, Daddy!"

  Carmine gripped the ball with both hands as he regarded her before tossing the ball to Vinnie instead. "You wanna play, Maura? Go put on some shoes."

  "But—"

  "You heard me, piccola. Shoes."

  She turned with a loud huff and ran inside, returning just a moment later with a pair of pink Nike's on her feet, the laces untied. Carmine shook his head, catching the ball when Vinnie threw it at him, before he turned to his daughter. The back door stood wide open behind her, the rest of the family starting to filter out.

  Maura held both arms out and he tossed the ball underhanded toward her. She caught it, and he smiled with pride, his expression slipping when she took off running straight at him, full speed. His eyes widened at the fierce determination on her face and had just enough time to take a step back when she rammed right into him.

  "Tackle!" she screeched, nearly knocking him down. Carmine laughed, stumbling, and grabbed ahold of her. She was just a little thing, two-and-a-half feet tall and barely twenty-five pounds soaking wet. He picked her up, swinging her around as she clutched onto the ball tightly, her frantic giggles echoing through the yard when he wrapped one arm around her and started tickling her sides with his free hand. "Daddy! No, tickles! No! Tackle!"

  "I think you need to learn the rules of the game, sweetheart," he said, spinning her upside down, h
olding her there, her head dangling, wayward hair hanging down toward his knees. "The man without the ball does the tackling. You're trying to sack the quarterback when he doesn't even have the ball anymore. That's a fifteen-yard penalty."

  "Carmine!" Haven stepped out onto the back porch and gaped at him. "She's wearing a dress!"

  "She has pants on underneath."

  "So? Put her down before all the blood rushes to her head!"

  Carmine obliged, dropping Maura into the grass as she giggled some more. He knelt down, tickling her again, before snatching the ball from her grip. Maura jumped to her feet and ran after him, trying to get it back, but Carmine tossed it to Vinnie before she could get her hands on it. Maura ran into him again, wrapping her arms around his legs from behind, determined to bring him down. Before Carmine could get her, she head-butted the back of his legs, making his knees buckle. He hit the ground, rolling onto his back, just as she took a flying leap on top of him, pointy elbows and knees digging into his ribs.

  "Christ, girl," Carmine said, yanking her into his arms as she continued to laugh. "Everything about that was against the rules. Unnecessary roughness."

  He got to his feet again, pulling her with him, as Haven walked over. She bent down, tugging on Maura's dress, trying to fix it, before she started smoothing the little girl's hair. None of it helped, though. There was no helping that disaster.

  "Why'd you get her all dirty?" Haven asked, looking up at Carmine. "I spent all day getting her ready."

  Carmine held up his hands defensively. "Hey, I had nothing to do with it. That was all her."

  Rolling her eyes, Haven stood back up. "I have a hard time believing you're innocent."

  "I am." Carmine reached over, grabbing ahold of Haven. She yelped as Carmine picked her up. He couldn't toss her around like he did Maura, certainly couldn't swing her upside down, but her feet dangled inches from the ground as she wiggled in his arms, her cheeks flushing. "I'm innocent, tesoro."