Page 79 of Joey

“B-but.” I blink at him, searching his dark eyes for answers. He looks so much like Sal. I don’t think I ever really noticed that before. “Did you know?”

He scowls. “No,” he insists.

Of course he didn’t. He hated his father. He would never cover for him like that.

“I’m sorry, Max. If I’d known that he made you…that he framed you… I would have told you a long time ago.” Joey’s pain-filled voice makes my heart ache for her.

I squeeze her hand. “It’s not on you, baby.” I grind out the words as rage and sheer fucking relief course through my veins.

“I always knew there was something not right about the whole situation. The way you found her in bed that morning.” Lorenzo says, appearing deep in thought.

I blink at him. “You did?”

“I’ve told you this many times, Maximo. But you would never listen.”

“I can’t…” I shake my head. Immediately after it happened, and on the handful of occasions we’ve discussed it since, he questioned the events that led to Fiona being in my bed, but I thought he was just trying to jog my memory or make me feel better.

Dante stares at me. “This makes sense, Max. Fiona was never your type. She’d been hanging around you for months, and no matter how drunk you got, you never so much as brushed her arm.”

“Yeah, but I was so drunk that night…” My head spins so fast I think I might pass out. Sal gave me the last glass of brandy I remember drinking that night.

“You didn’t kill her, Max,” Joey says. Leaning over in her chair, she wraps her arms around my neck and presses a soft kiss on my shoulder. “I’m sorry he made you believe you did.”

“Then how the fuck did she end up in my bed?”

Nobody answers—I guess because the answer is so fucking obvious.

I alternate between hanging my head in my hands and looking at my best friends while Joey holds onto me like I’m in danger of floating away in the middle of this shitstorm. “Why would he do that?” I ask when I find the words to speak. I was never anything but loyal to Salvatore Moretti. He had no reason to doubt me—to frame me for murder, if that’s what happened.

“Because he was a sick, twisted fuck,” Dante spits. “But we already knew that.”

“I’m so sorry, Max,” Joey says again. “If I’d just mentioned something. I hate that you carried this around for half your life.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” I assure her.

Lorenzo pinches the bridge of his nose. “It’s late and I need to check on Anya. We could spend the rest of our lives discussing the piece of shit that was our father, but nothing is going to change what he did now.”

“I agree. I think we should all get some sleep,” Dante suggests. He jerks his chin at me. “Is there any information about who took you that can’t wait until morning?”

“No. It can wait.” Sleep sounds like fucking heaven right now. Maybe when I wake up, I won’t have spent the last twelve years driving myself crazy trying to remember something I didn’t do. “But I should check on Kristin before I go to bed.”

“I checked on her before I came in here,” Joey says. “She’s sleeping. I don’t think you should disturb her. She hardly slept at all while you were gone.”

“None of us did,” Lorenzo adds, throwing his sister a concerned look.

Fuck, I should stop feeling sorry for myself and take better care of my girl. Should focus on the revelation that I’m not at risk of murdering her in her sleep after all, because as fucked up as this whole thing is, the fact that I can crawl into bed with her tonight—hell,everynight—should be compensation enough for anything her father ever put me through.

“Shall we go to bed?” Even though the way she says the words is entirely innocent, my cock still twitches to life.

I stare at her. She makes the whole goddamn world make sense. “Yeah.” I guess the past doesn’t matter so much when my future is standing right here.

ChapterThirty-One

MAX

Imanage a quick shower in Joey’s bathroom, after which I crawl into her bed and wait for her to take one too. I must be exhausted because the thought of taking one together never crossed my mind.

I press my head against her soft pillow and her sweet perfume washes over me. Her sheets are soft on my skin, and I think about how these covers must have been wrapped around her last night—touching every part of her. My cock throbs, not giving a single fuck that the rest of my body needs sleep.