Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
SEBASTIAN
While in protective custody, the rules are simple but numerous. Some of them are more important to follow than others, like staying inside and avoiding contact with the outside world, but Simon stresses all of them equally while Burke leans against the wall and nods along, throwing out a thought or two in the process.
Nicolo’s fingers are laced with mine as he listens with wide eyes, absorbing each rule with all the focus of a college student with aspirations to land on the Dean’s List. If there’s a test later, he wants to pass.
Unfortunately, he’ll probably forget more than one, more than once. It’s a lot to take in and remember. He’ll learn, though. I expect the adjustment period won’t be easy for him. Or me, for that matter.
It’s been a long time since I had to endure the weeks of restriction and boredom headed our way, if we’re even here for weeks on end which . . . I fucking hope not. Some things you never forget though.
Even after ten years of living on my own, under a new identity, free to do as I pleased so long as I followed a few guidelines, I remember most of the initial rules if not all of them.
Of course, the agent who sat me down to go over what I was allowed and not allowed to do while in protective custody wasn’t Simon.
Derick, the Marshal who was with me more often than not while I bounced from safehouse to safehouse during Anthony Rastelli’s trial, had been a stand-up, no-nonsense kind of guy.
Those months when I was confined and cut off from the world would’ve been another level of hell if he hadn’t been there to keep me grounded.
A smile pulls at my mouth as Simon continues to list the rules.
Derick had looked at me and seen more than Anthony Rastelli’s son, or the star witness in the trial of the century. I’d been an eighteen-year-old kid, scared out of my mind, not just for myself but for my brother and mother. He recognized that in me when no one else did. Protecting me may have been his job, but he became a friend in those long months too.
I trusted him, and he believed in me. It was because of him I decided to go to college and get my business degree. Without him, I probably wouldn’t be me. In fact, I’d probably be dead. I owed him a thank you, but Derick wasn’t the kind of man who needed that from me. All he needed was for me to live well and not waste a moment of my life looking back, wishing things could be different.
“Any questions?” Simon looks between Nicolo and me.
“Um . . .” Nicolo sinks his teeth into his bottom lip as a flush spreads across his cheeks. His fingers tighten around mine. I brush my thumb across his knuckles. “Do you have a list? I don’t think I can remember all of that.”
“We’ll get one for you.” Simon stands up and squeezes Nicolo on the shoulder. “Just remember to stay inside unless you’re out back, and stay off the internet. Everything else is just details.”
“Yeah. Okay.” Nicolo slumps against the sofa and looks around the room. There are books, board games, and a shit ton of movies. I have no doubt we’ll have access to a streaming service and probably some video games, but there won’t be any trashtalking people online as we gun down their avatars.
I bump my shoulder against his, and he looks up.
As much as he slept during the drive, I doubt he’s tired, but he still looks exhausted. If I thought he’d be able to sleep, I’d drag him to bed and tuck him in.
Fuck knows I could use a solid eight hours horizontal on a bed myself, considering just how little I slept, but I won’t leave Nicolo hanging. He needs me now more than ever—I’m his only connection to reality until we’re given our new identities and settled somewhere safe.
“You want to check out the board games? Or we can see what kind of movies they’ve got on hand.”
He drops his head on my shoulder. “A movie, maybe?” His gaze jumps to Simon and Burke, who are leaning against the kitchen counter chatting. I know from experience they’re figuring out our schedule for the next few days. Or even weeks. “Netflix? Is that allowed?”
I stand up to grab the TV remote and game system controller. It only takes me a moment after I’m sitting beside Nicolo to find what I’m looking for. He recognizes the opening credits right away and perks up almost immediately.
Some things never change or go out of style—and that includes Nicolo’s love for what can arguably be classified as the best American animated television series ever made. An Airbender and his ragtag band of friends, with the fate of four vastly different nations on their young shoulders.
I drop my arm over Nicolo and tuck him against my side, pulling the throw off the back of the sofa around us. He presses a kiss to my bicep before settling against me. “You’re the best, Sebastian.”
I chuckle, the sound far more choked than it has any right to be, as heat gathers in my abdomen. From nothing more than a harmless show of affection. If he knew the truth about what he did to me, he wouldn’t dare sit so close, be so familiar. But he doesn’t know, and I’ll do everything in my power to keep it that way.
“Remember that when I kick your ass at Candy Land. Candy Castle is mine.”
“In your dreams.” Nicolo rests his back against my ribcage, pulling the blanket with him. His fingers curl around my wrist and he drags my hand under the blanket before clasping it against his chest. His heart pumps against my palm and I give him a soft tug, not that he can get any closer. Another couple of inches and he’ll be sitting in my lap.
No. Nope. The last thing I need to think about is Nicolo in my lap. He was in my lap only yesterday afternoon and I barely managed to avert a crisis. If I take into account what I did in the shower later that night I didn’t avert shit.
I squeeze my eyes shut and tip my head back, letting the sound of the television and Nicolo’s easy breathing wash over me. I can’t be sure how much time has passed when Nicolo rocks back against me.
“Hey, Sebastian.” I hum and stroke his chest so he knows I’m listening. He shifts again and when I look down at him, he’s peering up at me. “Do you think I should let Mom know? Write a letter like Simon suggested?”
My answer matters. Whatever I say—positive or negative—he’s going to take to heart. I blow out a sharp breath. “That’s not up to me, Nicolo.”
When Derick told me I could write a letter to my mother, and she could write to me, I opted out. I knew that whatever letter I wrote would more than likely end up in the hands of Vincent. Her reply would be read by him. It was safer to disappear without a word—for all of us.
“Yeah, but I mean . . . you never wrote.” He looks away as his mouth tips down.
I sink my fingers into his hair. Honesty is all I can offer him. “I was worried my letter might end up in the wrong hands. I didn’t want you or Mom to be punished for anything I said, or forced to write back in an attempt to get information on me.”
“Oh.” Nicolo falls silent.
I press my face into his hair and inhale the scent of him, but say nothing. What can I say? As much as I wish I had all the answers, a way to reassure him that whatever he chooses will be the best choice for him, I don’t. All I can do is hug him close and let him know he has my love and support no matter what he chooses to do.