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“Something like that. I don’t need the marriage, just the girl. I never imagined having any of this, honestly.”
He nods in contemplation then hands the stack of papers back to Rocco, simply stating, “Protect our investments.”
My curiosity is piqued, but they dive into discussing business and family, and I remain quiet.
They casually chat and joke, as if my father hasn’t missed a thing. Their relationship is close, and I find myself a little envious.
At the end of the visit, he gives me a firm hug. “I’ll keep in touch with Rocco.”
“I’ll see you soon.” The words fly off my tongue without a second thought, my voice strained.
He pulls back yet holds on. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
52
JACKSON
Ethan is quiet,more so than usual. He rushed out of here this morning before I could ask why he was meeting Rocco. If it were about money or the house, I think he’d tell me. It makes me nervous, but I trust Ethan. He’d never betray me.
We all end up eating dinner and watching a hockey game on the flatscreen the twins and I installed today. That was entertainment in itself, and it wouldn’t surprise me if it fell off the wall.
Scratch that—Dante is an expert at every task he puts his mind to. Desi, however, is easily distracted, and somehow, we finished with more screws than we should have.
Even with Ricky here, I’m happy. Getting along with the twins is easy. Desi is unpredictable, and Dante is chill—they balance each other out, and it’s great having people to joke with who don’t judge my every move.
It’s odd, but I’ll miss Ethan’s family when we leave.
Desi sets down his third bowl of chicken curry on the coffee table. “You like to cook? I figured you’d have a chef.”
“No chef.” I shrug. “My mother taught me to cook. It’s peaceful, and I love food, so it’s a win-win.”
Ethan breaks from the TV to stare at me, and Aurora does the same. It takes me a second to realize…I never talk about my mother.
I glance away, and Ethan seizes the opportunity to bust my balls, finally shaking off his broody mood. One thing I like about him: he doesn’t pity me. He has few outward emotions, and pity is rarely one of them.
“You sure you didn’t grow up with an entire team of maids and butlers?”
“Staff wasn’t allowed in the house, asshole.”
Desi eyes me skeptically. “You do your own laundry?”
“Sometimes.” The only reason I haven’t done laundry here is because the washer and dryer are in the basement, and fuck that shit. I’m not about to piss my pants when a New York rat jumps out at me.
“Don’t let him fool you,” Ethan says with a smug smile. “The arena staff does his laundry. He doesn’t even tie his own skates.”
Everyone laughs except Ricky, who sits next to Dante, gaze fixed on the game, but I know he’s paying attention.
He’s not fooling me by biding his time, and he’s not gaining my trust to use Aurora. I’ll kill him first.
I’ve never actually killed anyone—not even Aurora’s ex. I just gifted him a shit-ton of cocaine and fifty grand and let the LAPD do the rest. Not my fault he accepted and had prior charges. That’s on him.
Given the chance, I’d happily expedite a few people into the afterlife. Ricky is lucky he’s not one of them—yet.
I have no intention of strangling him again. I won’t do that to Aurora. She’ll see enough of me fighting when I return to playing hockey. Plus, my hand is broken.
Now that I know he’s an agent and he keeps his mouth shut, he doesn’t trigger me as much. It also helps that I donated hisboots to the homeless guy who lives in our alleyway. It’s winter. He needed them more.