54

The Duvall’s were kind enough to offer us dinner—or rather, Adeline was kind enough to make us some. The dining room was quiet, except for Wash by Bon Iver humming softly from the record player in the corner. The dim light from the chandelier overhead cast a golden glow on the worn wooden table. Plates sat in front of each of us, steaming and full of food that looked... edible. But the first bite told me otherwise.

I stabbed at the lump of overcooked meatloaf on my plate, my fork scraping against the ceramic as I tried to muster the courage to take another bite. My head throbbed, and my nose wouldn’t stop running, leaving me sniffling with every breath. The taste still lingered in my mouth—salty, dry, and oddly metallic. I scooped another forkful and hesitantly lifted it to my lips, forcing it down with a grimace.

When I finally dared to glance up, my eyes locked with Dominic's across the table. He wasn’t eating. Of course, he wasn’t. Instead, he sat there, slouched lazily against his chair, arms folded across his chest, a smug smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He was watching me like I was the evening’s entertainment. His head was wrapped up around the temples and blood seeped through the bandage, staining with red blotches. 

He turned his head to Adeline, who sat at the opposite end of the table, her brown hair tucked behind one ear. “Still haven’t improved, huh?” he said, his tone laced with mockery.

Adeline’s hand tightened around her fork, her jaw clenching as she shot him a glare. “How would you know? You haven’t even touched your plate.”

Dominic didn’t even blink. Instead, he gestured with a nod in my direction, then at Bunny, who was sitting at the table’s edge, chewing loudly. Bunny, mouth still full, chuckled and wiped the corner of his lips with his fingers.

“Once you’ve had it a few times, you get used to it,” Bunny said, his grin lopsided.

Adeline’s face darkened. She set her fork down with deliberate slowness and turned to me, her eyes narrowing. I panicked, quickly shoving another mouthful of the meatloaf into my mouth, the dry lump scraping my throat on the way down.

“You don’t have to eat it,” Dominic said casually, his voice low but perfectly audible. He leaned forward slightly, his smirk growing. “You don’t need to.”

I didn’t look at him, focusing instead on chewing as quickly as possible without choking. But Adeline was already pushing her chair back. The screech of wood against the floor made me flinch.

Before anyone could say a word, she grabbed the edge of the tablecloth and yanked. Plates, silverware, glasses, and the entire meal clattered to the floor in a cacophony of shattering ceramic and splattering food.

I froze, fork still in my hand, staring wide-eyed at the mess now pooling around my boots. Bunny let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “You’ve done it now,” he muttered under his breath, side-eyeing Dominic.

Dominic, for his part, didn’t even flinch. His smile didn’t falter as he leaned back in his chair, crossing one ankle over his knee. “Someone’s skipping their anger management classes,” he drawled.

“Dominic, stop,” I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended.

Adeline’s eyes flicked between us, her chest heaving with barely contained fury. She pointed a trembling finger at Dominic, then swung her glare to me, her gaze heavy with accusation. “Beggars can’t be choosers,” she bit out, her voice cold and venomous.

Without waiting for a response, she stormed out of the room, her footsteps echoing angrily down the hallway.

“Adeline, come on—don’t be like that!” Dominic called after her, his tone teasing.

Bunny groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I’m going to kill him,” he muttered to no one in particular.

I looked at Dominic, my temper finally snapping. “Can you just stop for once? Just stop with the jabs, the jokes—everything!”

For a moment, he just stared at me, his smile fading slightly. Then he shrugged, the movement slow and deliberate. “What? It’s not like I said anything untrue.”

I clenched my fists, frustration bubbling in my chest. The tension in the room was suffocating, the air thick with unspoken words and frayed nerves. I glanced down at the mess on the floor, my appetite long gone, and pushed my chair back.

“Clean this up,” I said to no one in particular, standing abruptly.

Bunny stood too, smoothing out his shirt and motioning toward the hall. “Eleanor, I’ll show you where you’re sleeping tonight,” he said with a tired sigh, giving Dominic a pointed look. “And Dominic, you can take the couch. You’ve done enough damage for one evening.”

Dominic barked out a short laugh, clearly unfazed. “The couch, huh? Sure. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Bunny shook his head, muttering something under his breath, and turned to me. “Come on,” he said, his voice softer now. “Let’s get you settled.”

I followed him out of the dining room, leaving Dominic behind with his smug grin and the wreckage of dinner still scattered across the floor. We walked through the hallway, then climbed a staircase leading to the second floor. My hand gripped the railing tightly as my legs moved sluggishly beneath me. Each step sent a pulse through my pounding head, and my sniffling broke the quiet with every strained breath. My vision blurred, and it took everything in me not to stumble backward and fall.

When we reached the top, Bunny, a few steps ahead, flicked on the lights, casting the hallway into a soft, golden glow. As I steadied myself, something on the wall to my left caught my eye. I stopped for the briefest moment, my gaze snagging on a framed photograph.

It was Bunny in the picture—much younger, with longer hair and smoother skin. He looked to be about Dominic’s age now, somewhere in his early thirties. He was wearing a suit, slightly too big for him but still charming in its own way. He looked… happy. Not the dry humor or forced chuckles I’d grown accustomed to seeing on him, but genuinely at ease. Beside him stood a woman.

She was the spitting image of Adeline. The same long brown hair, the same piercing gray eyes, the same petite frame. But there was something in her that Adeline lacked. The smile. The way her joy radiated even through the stillness of the photo. The way she looked so full of life in that wedding dress. And Bunny… his expression was unmistakable. Love.

“Sheila.”

I flinched, Bunny’s voice breaking through the fog in my head. I turned to see him standing a few feet down the hallway, his hands shoved into his pockets. He wasn’t looking at me but at the picture.

He smiled faintly and walked back toward me, his gaze softening. “That was Sheila,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a weight that pressed down on my chest. “My wife.”

I didn’t say anything, unsure of what to offer. He didn’t seem to need a reply, though, his eyes lingering on the photograph.

“She was Adeline’s mom,” he said after a pause, his voice wistful. “Smart, patient… the kind of person who’d look at someone like me and see potential, not problems.” His smile faltered for a split second, but he caught it, masking the crack in his composure. “She died years ago. Car accident. One of those freak things you never see coming.”

I felt a lump forming in my throat, but I swallowed it down, unwilling to make a sound.

“Sheila was everything to Addie. You see how she is now—fire and grit. That’s Sheila in her too. That’s her fighting to keep going even when the world’s stacked against her.” He chuckled softly, the sound tinged with something bittersweet. “Sometimes I think she’s got more fire than sense, though.”

I managed a small smile, but it felt weak, out of place. Just as I opened my mouth to say something—anything to fill the silence—the sound of footsteps creaking on the staircase made us both pause.

I turned, and there was Dominic, standing midway up the stairs. He froze, his gaze flicking between us. For a moment, he looked like he might say something, but then he simply turned and descended the stairs again, leaving us in silence.

Bunny didn’t seem bothered, his gaze still fixed on the photograph. “She’d have liked you,” he said softly, breaking the stillness.

The words caught me off guard. I didn’t know what to say, my chest tightening as a chill swept over me. A shiver ran through my body, and I wrapped my arms around myself. My head throbbed harder now, my vision hazy.

Bunny noticed. “You need to go to bed, kid,” he said gently, his voice dipping into a fatherly warmth that tugged at something deep inside me.

My heart ached, the way it always did when someone showed me kindness like that—so simple, so unassuming. It reminded me too much of my dad, of the way he used to fuss over me whenever I pushed myself too hard. My chest tightened further, and my eyes stung, blurring with tears I didn’t want to let fall.

“Come on,” Bunny said, steering me down the hallway with a hand on my shoulder. “Let’s get you to bed before you drop right here.”

His touch was steady, his steps unhurried. At that moment, I didn’t see the sarcastic man who’d cracked jokes at the dinner table or the tough font he had on. I saw my dad—his patience, his quiet care—and my vision blurred even more.

I blinked hard, biting the inside of my cheek to keep the tears at bay. But the tug in my chest didn’t loosen, and by the time Bunny stopped in front of a door and gestured for me to go in, my throat was tight, and I could barely manage a quiet, “Thank you.”

“Get some rest,” he said, his voice soft but firm. Then, with a nod, he turned and walked back down the hallway, leaving me to the silence of the room and the ache in my chest. 

I tugged my boots off at the edge bed and climbed into it, sinking into the mattress, pulling the sheet up to my chin. My head throbbed like a drumbeat that wouldn’t let up, the pain pulsing behind my eyes. I shivered, curling into myself as if that would make the ache in my chest and shoulders hurt any less. It didn’t. My body felt cold, heavy, like I’d been dipped in cement.

I thought about my father. I didn’t mean to, it just happened. He’d been this larger-than-life figure to everyone else, this terrifying mafia lord whose name people whispered. But to me, he was just Dad. Strong, yes, but soft, too. He had this way of making me feel safe, like no matter what happened, he’d protect me. He used to run his hand through my hair whenever I had a nightmare and tell me it was going to be okay.

It was hard to believe that life was real now. Those days felt like someone else’s story, like a dream I’d woken up from too soon. I thought about my brothers and my mom, how we’d all been so… happy. We didn’t have a perfect life—it was chaotic, messy—but we had each other. And that had been enough. Until Vaughn.

I squeezed my eyes shut as the thought of his name. Vaughn. He used to work for my dad, for Dominic’s dad too. They trusted him, relied on him. Vaughn was the kind of man people called a legend. A killer, yes, but loyal—at least, that’s what they’d thought. I didn’t know the whole story of how he turned on them. I only knew it had been ugly, violent, and final.

I could still see my father’s face in those last few months. He was scared, though he never admitted it. I’d never seen him scared before, not even once. It was in the way he paced during meetings, the way his voice lost its calmness whenever Vaughn’s name came up. He’d tried to hide it from me, but I could tell.

I shifted under the sheets, trying to get comfortable. My shoulders ached, my body heavy with exhaustion that sleep couldn’t fix. I turned onto my side, then my back, then onto my side again, anything to find relief. The mattress creaked under me, and I winced at the sound. Eventually, I stilled, my pulse slowing as the exhaustion began to take over.

The room grew quieter, the weight of it pressing down on me, until sleep started to pull me under.

Then I heard it.

The faintest sound of the doorknob turning.

My breath caught, and my eyes flew open. My body went rigid under the covers, every nerve on edge. The room, so still and quiet just seconds ago, felt like it was holding its breath. My heart thudded in my chest, loud and fast.

I didn’t move. I just stared at the door, frozen, waiting for something to happen.