Chapter 28
TERINA
Present
DiAngelo was jealous of Chase. He could claim all he wanted that he cut yoga class short because of my safety, but I can read between the lines. It came down to jealousy, pure and simple.
What does that mean, though?
I can’t deny a chaotic chemistry has been building between us since he first started acting as my bodyguard.
Every time he’s close, the air seems to thicken a little more.
Every touch is a tad more claiming. The mutual attraction between us isn’t at question.
But getting a hard-on is different from wanting to be with someone.
Jealousy …
That implies a desire to possess exclusively.
It’s another story entirely and somehow casts a different light on everything.
The mystery of it all keeps me awake later than usual. I spend ages mulling over the meaning of his actions and how I feel about it all because as confused as I am by him, it’s nothing compared to the bafflement I feel at my response.
In the moment, with DiAngelo’s body pressed against mine, his cock nestled between my ass cheeks, I wasn’t scared or angry or even frustrated.
The only thing I felt when I realized he’d been jealous was pure satisfaction.
It’s the reason my body writhed against his of its own volition.
Something deep inside me preened at the idea of belonging to him, and that’s the part that has me most unsettled.
I haven’t wanted a relationship since Craig died. Not even a little.
When I think about it logically, I still don’t want a man. I don’t want anyone to get too close to me and endanger themselves. Yet the chemistry simmering between me and DiAngelo overrides logic and scrambles my thoughts like a rake through sand.
I wake in the morning no closer to understanding than when I’d first gone to bed, but leave it to the universe to swoop in and remind me of what’s at stake. Kristi messaged me in the night.
Guilt wraps its cold, bony fingers around my shoulders and squeezes.
Kristi: you going to pay your respects tomorrow?
Kristi: it’s his birthday, in case you forgot
Kristi: seems like the least you can do
I take a breath before I reply. Craig’s mom was never my biggest fan, but she got downright mean after his death. It’s the pain that causes her to lash out, and I’m a big reason for that pain. I try to be understanding, but damn does it hurt.
As for the date, I hadn’t forgotten, but for once, it hasn’t haunted me upon its approach. I’ve had too much on my mind to remember to feel guilty.
The reprieve was nice while it lasted.
Me: I’m sorry but I can’t be there. I’ll do what I can to visit on the anniversary.
The anniversary of his murder.
I always go to the cemetery that day. She knows that. It’s been five years, though, and she still shames me for not going more often.
But I refuse to let it get to me today. I woke with a buoyancy—an unexpected hopefulness—that I want to take hold of with both hands and never let go. Today feels different. I feel different.
It’s dangerous, this new unfurling curiosity, yet I can’t quash it.
I don’t want to, if I’m honest.
“Do we still have blueberries?” I ask when I join DiAngelo in the kitchen. He’s sitting at the bar shirtless and drinking coffee. His hair is still wet from a shower, and his muscles are taut from working out.
My fingers twitch with the need to trace each dip and curve.
“I think so.”
“I’m going to make blueberry pancakes. You want some?
” I saw syrup hiding in the pantry the other day and decided it would be fun to make a treat.
Now that I’m feeling more comfortable here in his home, I’d like to do more cooking.
I enjoy the process of making a meal, and I’d love to feel like I’m giving back to DiAngelo in some way since he’s done so much to help me.
Despite our arguments, I appreciate his sacrifices.
“Yeah, that works.”
“Or I can leave off the blueberries, if you prefer,” I hurry to add.
“Blueberries are good. I can make eggs, too, if you want.”
“I’ll do it—you already do plenty for me.” I flash him a shy smile. “I can fry some bacon, too. It’s a good day for a big breakfast.”
“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”
“I thought I’d take the day off—no yoga for either of us.
” I offered to do yoga at home at first, but he insisted I was fine going to classes.
While I don’t want to become a hermit, I do feel better knowing I’m not leading him into unnecessary danger.
Maybe I can alternate between home and class to minimize our outings.
“That is reason to celebrate,” he teases wryly as I bustle around the kitchen gathering the items I’ll need for the pancakes.
“I don’t know how you’d feel about it, but I’d love to see if Isa could come by to hang out later today.”
“Fine by me.” He’s suddenly standing by me with a skillet in hand.
“Thanks.” My voice grows unexpectedly husky at his nearness. I hesitantly take the pan then get back to my task, trying to ignore the fact that he’s now leaning against the counter behind me. Watching.
“I’m putting in a grocery order today. You have any requests?”
I whirl around, forgetting my nerves. “Yes! I’d love to do some cooking, if you’re okay with that.”
“You won’t hear me complaining. Maybe after you eat, you can put together a list. I’ll add it to the order.”
“I can do that. Do you have any allergies or preferences?”
His gaze is warm molasses on a crisp October morning. “You make it, Rina, and I’ll eat it, yeah?”
DiAngelo’s sweet words have stolen all of mine, so I nod and try to keep breathing now that my lungs have forgotten how to work.
Today is definitely different.
This is uncharted territory, and I’m terrified of how good it feels, but I try not to let that fear taint the moment.
Breakfast is a success. I’m pleased at how my pancakes come out, and DiAngelo practically licks his plate clean.
We clean the kitchen together, then disperse to our separate activities until it’s time for Isa to arrive in the late afternoon.
I introduce her to Bonny, and the three of us plant ourselves in the shade outside on the balcony after we make ourselves some cocktails.
“Mmm, perfect day for a cold drink.” Isa sips from her vodka tonic that is mostly tonic.
I raise my glass in agreement. “I should probably drink straight from the bottle after the couple of weeks I’ve had.”
“Yeah, I want to hear all about it. I’m not sure how you breathe with all that tension in the air.”
I frown, though I know exactly what she’s talking about. “Tension? That’s just DiAngelo. You know how intense he is.”
Come on, acting skills. Show me what you’ve got.
Isa chuckles. “My bad—so … nothing is going on between you guys?”
“No, nothing at all.” Not technically.
“Excellent, because I’ve been thinking, and if you’re okay with it … I’d like to ask him out. Seeing him again reminded me of the old days, and I thought it might be good to reconnect.” She peers at me warily as though worried I’ll be upset.
My cup clanks onto the glass patio table as the air evaporates from my lungs.
Isa and DiAngelo? I don’t even have to say it out loud for the bitterness to coat my tongue, yet the taste is so strong, I have to fight back a grimace.
Maybe I want DiAngelo more than I wanted to admit. More than a simple attraction.
A peal of laughter scatters my chaotic thoughts. Isa grins. “That’s what I thought.”
“Wait…” I stare at her. “Did you just … bait me?”
She shrugs impishly. “More like nudged you a little.”
“It’s not what you think, Isa. Things between us are crazy complicated. Sometimes I want to strangle him, and other times I want to…” I can’t say what I want. I’m too scared to voice it into being. But I don’t have to lay it out for Isa to understand.
She gives me a sad smile. “You do what’s best for you, Rina.”
“I’m trying to figure out what that is.”
“Well, in the process, no one would blame you if you decided to … test the waters. You know, scratch that itch. No reason not to take advantage of being stuck here together.” She sips from her drink, brows rising.
My cheeks flush what has to be bright red, and I can only hope she thinks it’s the alcohol.
I can’t bring myself to tell her what I did in his bed.
And besides, she and I don’t usually talk about that sort of thing.
It may be a little unusual, but it works for us.
Neither of us dates. Men and sex simply aren’t a part of the equation.
I’m not entirely sure about her reasons. She lost her mother and brother close to one another. I got the sense she never truly processed the loss.
As for me, I haven’t wanted to be with anyone—not even just for sex—because sex leads to feelings, and I didn’t want that. I don’t want that. Right?
My gaze drifts inside the apartment and locks with his. The television is on, but he’s not watching it. He’s watching me.
Butterfly wings tickle my insides and make it hard to breathe.
“Rina, is Craig the reason you don’t move on? Do you still miss him?” Isa’s question is so unexpected, and my attention is so fixated on DiAngelo, that I don’t filter my answer the way I normally would.
“No, I don’t move on because I don’t want anyone else to get hurt because of me.” I finally force my eyes back to my friend, though I can’t hold her gaze long because of the immense sadness I see.
“You weren’t to blame, Rina. It was just bad luck.”
“Do you actually believe that with our family business, his getting stabbed was a random coincidence?” My words are sober and spoken with a heavy dose of reality.
Isa leans forward. “Do you know something I don’t?”
Yes.
But there’s no use dredging up the past, so I shake my head.
“It’s a risky life we lead. You know that better than anyone.
” Her father is Renzo’s consigliere. While there was no proof that her brother’s death was a hit, their brakes went out while he was driving.
That doesn’t usually happen. The only reason she’s alive is his decision to steer the car to a stop in a way that saved her but killed him instantly.
She nods, and we both take long swigs from our drinks.
“It’s also boring. I don’t know about you, but hiding out at my dad’s house has me bored to tears. I’ve been thinking about taking up canning, and I don’t even like preserves.”
I chuckle. “Then why canning?”
“I like the jars.” She shrugs, and we both laugh.
“Seems like a good reason. I should probably take on more than yoga. I used to volunteer at a soup kitchen, which isn’t an option while we’re in danger, but I could go back to that.”
“Yeah? I might would join you.”
“Really?” I’m not sure why I’m surprised. She’s super sweet like that, and we’d have fun together.
“Of course. Once all of this blows over, we should look at the options.”
“That sounds great.”
Our conversation continues to wind seamlessly from one topic to another until an hour has passed, and DiAngelo joins us with a plate full of food in one hand and two water bottles in the other.
“This is unexpected,” I say with an alcohol-induced grin. We’ve finished our second round of drinks, and though the vodka ratio wasn’t high, I don’t drink often, so I’m feeling the effects.
“Figured I’d better bring something so that I’m not stuck holding your hair back all night.” His words remind me of the kiwi he’s included on the plate—a little rough and prickly on the outside but all sugary sweet on the inside.
The truth is, he’s under no obligation to help me if I get sick. He didn’t have to bring us anything, let alone spend the time to cut up kiwi and strawberries, slice cheese, and line the plate with rows of crackers and salami.
“You’re welcome to join us.” My softly spoken offer hangs in the air.
DiAngelo pauses, his eyes lingering on mine before drifting to Isa and Bonny. “I have some things to do, but you make sure to drink some water, yeah?”
Heat radiates from my skin when his gaze finds mine again. I nod, my teeth grazing my bottom lip. Silence envelopes the balcony until he’s returned inside and no longer in sight.
“Girl, that tension’s so intense, it stole all the air from an open patio. How does that even happen?” Isa fans herself with her hand more for effect than the breeze.
“Oh, God. I don’t know. I don’t know what to do about any of it.” I open my water bottle and take a swig.
Isa does the same, but eyes me the entire time. “You know he’d do it, don’t you? He’d hold your hair back all night if that’s how long it took.”
I chew on my cheek while considering her comment. “I think you might be right,” I finally answer in a hushed tone.
Even if I think about all the ways he’s been a brute, there are just as many things he’s done purely for my benefit.
Like the snake—he was under no obligation to be so sweet and reassuring.
He’s given up his bed, bought a pantry full of food to my specifications, and despite my best efforts, he never even got all that upset when I painted Bonny’s nails.
He easily could have kept me couped up in his apartment, no yoga or outings whatsoever, if he wanted to make this job as simple as possible.
When I think about it like that, I have to admit, he’s been pretty dang sweet.
Oh, crap. Is this a crush?
Do I have a crush on my brother’s best friend?
“It would be hypocritical of me to push you into a relationship when I’m equally unwilling,” Isa says gently, “but I know both of you, and I think you should keep an open mind. I just want you to be happy.”
“I’m not sure what happy looks like for me.” I whisper my admission, scared to acknowledge the truth to myself.
My friend lays her hand on mine. “I understand probably more than anyone, and I’m here for you. All you have to do is ask.”
“Thanks, Isa.” I squeeze her hand. “Same goes for you, babe.”
Our exchange is sweet, but the ugly truth is, neither of us is willing to take the plunge and actually lay ourselves bare. Maybe one day. But for now, it helps to know I’m not alone.