Chapter 24
As I pace the length of the dim hallway, each step a hammer strike against the old wooden floors of my living room, I lift the phone to my ear.
“Talk to me.” Marco’s voice fills the void.
“Hey man, sorry to bother you. I was wondering if—by chance—you’ve heard from Dante?” I ask, my words coming out in a way I’m sure reveals the worry gnawing at my insides.
“Why the fuck would I have heard from Dante?” Marco snaps in frustration. “I thought he was with you.”
“Well—he was,” I stammer. “But we, um, well, we started arguing, and things got heated. He wouldn’t listen. He kept saying this was all his fault, and he couldn’t sit around and do nothing.”
“Dammit,” Marco growls. “He’s not wrong. This is all his fault!”
“Come on, I know you’re mad.” I hope to calm the anger seething in Marco’s voice. “But Dante didn’t do what he did because he was trying to endanger any of us. He respects you. Can’t you see that?”
“Well, maybe I would prefer if he respected me a little less.”
“Jesus. He really did think he was helping,” I say, already knowing I won’t be able to sway his opinion.
“Helping?” Marco barks into the phone. “Why do you keep defending him? He never thinks before he does something. He’s fucking reckless, and you know it.”
Marco isn’t wrong. Dante has been that way as long as I’ve known him, and I think, in some ways, it’s part of what makes him so endearing. However, he has never gotten us into a situation like the one we now face.
“I get it, okay? You’re not wrong. He really fucked this up. But you didn’t see him. He was so messed up when he left here; I’m really worried he could do something stupid. Shit, the way he was talking, he might even hurt himself.”
Silence stretches across the line, taut as a wire about to snap. I imagine Marco’s face is a mask of controlled indifference.
“Look, Nico,” Marco finally says, his voice laced with irritation rather than concern. “From what I’ve seen, Dante’s got a flair for the dramatics. He knows he fucked up and doesn’t know how to get himself out of it. I’m sorry, but I don’t have time to play his stupid games. Some of us are actually trying to figure a way out of the grave he dug for us.”
My face flushes hot at his response. “I don’t know.” I continue. “The guy I saw earlier, that wasn’t just drama. I’ve never seen him like that.”
“I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation right now. Amelia texted that Vincent is getting in around two today.” Tension radiates down to lock my entire body when I hear Marco’s words. “I need to go beg Amelia for her help in making her brother see reason, so how about you worry about finding Dante before Vincent does?”
The call ends with a click, the silence louder than any argument.
“FUUUUCCKKKK!” The guttural scream breaks free as frustration overwhelms me.
I suck in a deep breath. Find Dante. Where do you even start looking for a man who is out of his mind with guilt? Dante may be impulsive and reckless, but he’s also one of us—a part of this tangled web of misfits who has become as good as family.
I text Dante again despite my last half dozen messages going unread. I try calling. Straight to voicemail once again. Each passing moment without a response tightens the knot in my stomach.
I need help. Someone who can at least help me think straight. I pull out my phone and flip through my contacts, then dial the number.