Chapter 10
chapter ten
MARISOL
I bask in the feeling of the sun on my bare skin through the open window of Leo’s classic black Impala as we coast down the main road that leads to Ruby Cove.
I can smell the salty air already, and a wave of sick nostalgia surges in my stomach.
I’ve been back to Ruby Cove a few times in the last couple of years.
Once for Isla and Caio’s wedding, and to visit Rafael and May a couple of times, but I never stay for long.
Never long enough to remind myself of what it feels like to call this place home.
I don’t regret leaving. I couldn’t be here back then, not when every cobblestone on Main reminded me of everything I had lost, but I can’t say I don’t envy the way my brother has found a way to flourish here, even with all the memories this place holds.
God, he even cooks in the kitchen where our nonna taught him, where she tried to teach me.
Every time I walked into that kitchen after she died, all I could think of was that I wished I had just said yes.
That I had let her tie a red checkered apron around my waist and judge the shit out of my pasta sauce.
Hindsight can be wonderful, but it can also be torturous.
Rafael has renovated since then. May helped him turn Olive he always has been.
Confidence radiates off him. Women love that, and he knows it.
I’ve never taken his flirting as anything more than another facet of his personality.
But what he said last night…
“That’s number one on the list of reasons why this place is better than Sorrento.”
“That’s number one?” I ask, letting the conversation pull me out of my head.
“Okay,” he tips his head. “Maybe number two.”
“What did you so quickly replace Vanessa’s coffee with?” I laugh.
“Myself.” He grins.
I let out a strangled laugh. “Dio, how could I not guess that?”
He chances a look over at me, and I find myself wishing I could rip those sunglasses from his face and see the look in his eyes.
“Does that mean this place lost all of its charm when you moved to the city?” I say, and I don’t anticipate the way his grin fades.
“No,” he says. “Not at all. The way this place makes you feel…” He shakes his head. “There’s nothing else like it.”
I pull my legs into my chest as I look back out the window, watching as we veer around the corner and away from the water. He’s not wrong, but I think I relate to that in a different way than he does.
“Is that why you came back?” I say, my gaze still fixed out the window. I don’t need to look at him to feel the sudden change in his energy, but I don’t dare to let him know it.
“Something like that,” he mutters.
* * *
My stomach twists when I see Rafael’s truck parked in the driveway of what used to be his house.
It tightens even further when I think of what this house used to be.
Now, it’s all modern angles and big windows, but my mind replaces it with the rough wooden slats that made up the steps to the front door. The ones that were worn from how many pairs of shoes had tread them over time.
I imagine my brother and I sitting on the porch swing when Ma and Pa used to drop us off for sleepovers.
We did it every time, waving at them until the sound of the engine faded around the corner.
Even when we were old enough to look after ourselves, we still visited Nonna when our parents went out for their weekly date night.
That night felt no different. But my parents didn’t come home. They didn’t park right where Leo parks now and pick us up. We sat on that porch swing waiting for so long, and I remember feeling so cold, even though it was summer.
I shake my head, trying to dislodge the visions of my past. When I open my eyes again, my focus falls on my brother.
He stands up against the hood, his legs crossed casually, his arms folded over his chest. Anyone would think he is as relaxed as ever, but then I see his eyes.
If we were in one of those space movies, he would have disintegrated us with lasers from his eyes by now.
I’ve never been afraid of my brother and his attitude, even when he used to act like my parent. In all fairness, he is seven years older than me, but that didn’t make me any more receptive to his attempts at authority. Leo, however, squirms in his seat as he shifts the car into park.
“Hey.” I reach over the console to grab the hand he flexes on the steering wheel. “We’ve got this.”
His gaze finds mine, and I almost see the moment he believes me. He brings my hand to his mouth and presses a soft kiss against my skin. “Let’s go.”
The car doors barely slam shut before Rafael opens his big mouth. “Got anything to share with the class?” he says, arms still firmly crossed, his thick eyebrows pulled together.
“Dio, Rafael.” I roll my eyes. “Can we at least get in the door first?” He tuts as Leo pulls our bags from the back seat. I don’t question how my brother knew we’d be back today. He has his ways.
“Ah, nice to see you, sis!” he says, the words dripping with sarcasm.
I reach my hand out to take my bag from Leo, but he slings it over his shoulder and fishes for his keys in his pocket. “Tea? Coffee?” He directs the questions toward my brother. “Whiskey?”
Rafael’s nostrils flare as he glares at Leo. “I thought you went to Sorrento for business purposes.” Leo finally unlocks the door, and I slip into the house first. “Or was that a lie?”
“Rafael.” I screw my face up. The man has no shame.
“In fact, how long exactly have the two of you been lying to me?”
Leo sighs, not granting my brother a response before he turns to me, sliding my bag off his shoulder. “Why don’t you go get into something comfy?”
My eyes dart to Rafael. Part of me says to stay here and mediate this conversation, but the other part says to take the exit Leo is giving me and run.
I nod. “Thanks.” He nods back, and I turn, slipping down the hallway and away from the awkward silence.
I can’t help but notice the lack of decoration as I walk down the hall, looking in through every open door.
Granted, this place does have a lot of rooms—why Rafael renovated as if he had a family of six back when he lived here alone, I’m not sure—but most of them are free of any kind of personality. Just like Leo’s apartment in the city.
I look through the next door on the right, seeing the unmade bed, and find it safe to assume that this is Leo’s room.
I look back up the hall, hearing the mumbling of male conversation before stepping into the room.
Immediately, my gaze is pulled to the wall where a big painting hangs center stage, one that provides a rough-stroked view of the cove at sunset.
I recognize it immediately as one of Isla’s paintings, and after the lack of anything personal in both his Sorrento apartment and here, I am somewhat surprised to see the artwork in his bedroom.
But simultaneously, I can see exactly why he put it here.
The rough strokes draw me in. I struggle to tear my eyes away from the scene, but when I hear a raised voice from the living room, it snaps me out of my daze.
I drop my duffel bag beside Leo’s dresser. One of the drawers is slightly ajar, giving me a peek at a plush gray sweater.
I pull on the small handle, and the drawer pops open. I pull out the sweater, and the fabric is like heaven under my fingers. It’s so soft. Sitting underneath is a matching pair of sweatpants.