Page 3 of What’s Left of Us (What Left #3)

“Spend the night.”

My voice echoes through the room, making it seem like there’s more space between the two of us than there actually is.

Alastair is rarely here without Vinny, mostly because my two boys come as a packaged deal.

But lately with all the things going on around the grove, I’ve had more days with one of them alone than the both of them together.

I don’t like it. Not when the three of us are destined to be together, and all the problems sprinkled through Citrus Grove are just holding us back from the rest of our lives.

Unlike my mother, I don’t plan to grow my roots here. I can’t wait to be as far from Florida as I can get.

Alastair chuckles, shaking his head as he pulls his shirt back on.

Usually to avoid all the problems at home we go to Vinny’s place, but he’s got things to handle with Massimo tonight.

He warned us to stay away for the evening, and Mom’s out late, so the two of us got to spend some extra time together.

“Porscha doesn’t like me,” Alastair reminds me, wiggling his eyebrows.

It’s still light outside, but that doesn’t matter with Mom’s chaotic schedule.

Some nights she doesn’t even bother coming home, so there’s no guarantee she would even know he’s here.

“She’ll be back from work soon, right? I should head home. ”

I grip his hand, unwilling to let go. Alastair turned eighteen recently, so he’s no longer a ward of the state but he doesn't really have anything to go home to either. Without Emeric and the Franks living here, he’s all alone.

He practically lives at Vinny’s place, but with tensions running high in the Ajello family, he decided it was best to stay out of the way tonight.

Going home means he’s going back to a place he doesn't feel wanted, and I absolutely hate that. It’s basically a cheap motel because he doesn’t have much money and doesn’t want more of Vinny’s charity.

Being unwanted… it’s a feeling I know a little too well. “Don’t go.”

He shakes his head. “Jo-”

“I’m eighteen now,” I remind him with a frown. “Vinny’s eighteen, you’re eighteen. We don’t have to act like children anymore. We’re applying to colleges-”

“You’re applying to colleges,” he reminds me with a smile. “Wherever you choose to go, we will follow. We can build our lives wherever your dreams take us.”

I lean forward, kissing him for a long moment as I cling to his shirt. I really don’t want him to leave. “We could all meet up tonight at Vinny’s. How long can his father keep him?”

Alastair gives me an uncomfortable look. “There’s a killer around, Jo. I don’t want you out and about in the dark like that, and I don’t have a car-”

“I could pick you up on my way there,” I try.

He kisses me again before standing, already heading towards the door. “Your mom will probably be home soon, Jo. I don’t think it’s a smart idea for her to see me with you. She already doesn’t like that you’re with Vinny, and he has money.”

“I don’t care about that,” I tell him, following him to the front door. “And my mom shouldn’t care so much about my plans. At least I want to get out of this little town and do something with my life.”

“You’re going to do great,” he tells me, yanking open the door. I catch his arm, digging my nails into his arm. “I better-”

“I can drive you home,” I offer, smiling. “There is a killer on the loose, you know.”

He hesitates before leaning in, kissing me one last time. “I’m not what the killer wants, trust me. Stay home tonight, Jo. Please? Be safe for me.”

I hate it, because Alastair’s going to jog home now and pretend like everything is all right. But I know it isn’t. He’s trying to pull back and I can’t figure out why. Sometimes we’re talking about our future as a trio, and other times he’s staring at me like he knows this is coming to an end.

I finally nod, letting go of his arm. “I’ll be safe. I’ll stay in, okay? Nothing bad will happen to me here.”

He stares at me for a little too long, and I don’t understand his look. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

He gives me one last peck before turning and jogging away, not looking back to stare as he heads down the block.

The benefit of Citrus Grove being so dinky is it’s easy enough to get around town, and only certain homes closer to the outskirts have any substantial land.

He’ll be back at his place in a few minutes, but I wish he would let me drive him.

“Joelle!”

Before Alastair is out of sight, Mom pulls up to the house.

I didn’t even realize she was here, my attention fixed entirely on Alastair.

I turn and glare at her, watching as she hops out of her SUV with a huge bag slung over her shoulder and a tear in the side of her overalls.

She looks a little haggard today, like she did more physical labor than usual.

I just wish she hadn’t seen him.

“Joelle,” Mom pants again, hurrying up to me on the porch. I raise a brow, studying her face. She was supposed to be out at a painting job for most of the day, and there’s a little coppery smudge on her cheek. “Joelle, tell me that boy didn’t just leave this house.”

Blowing out a breath, I roll my eyes and turn from her. “I have friends, Mom.”

“No,” she huffs, stalking after me. I hear her bag hit the floor and her steps following me before the door slams closed. “I hear the rumors around town, girl. I know that you’re sweet on both of them.”

“Mom,” I groan, shooting her a look over my shoulder as I sit on the couch. “Seriously? You don’t approve of either so why focus on both? I’ll be out of your hair soon enough as is.”

“Oh, Jo,” she says tiredly, “the town will talk. People always talk when there’s a scandal.”

“Lucky for you I’ll be out of the way by then,” I grumble.

Mom stomps over, standing right in front of me as I turn on the TV. There goes any chance of a peaceful night. “That’s what you plan on leaving me for? Slumming it with two men? Do you want to be treated like trash?”

“I’m familiar with what that’s like, Mother,” I say pointedly, narrowing my eyes. “They treat me like a queen, and I care for both of them. I don’t expect you to understand, but you don’t have to hate on me for it, either. No one is being used.”

“You don’t understand,” Mom growls. “You're young. I was young once too. Men will use you and throw you out once the fun is done.”

I can already see where this is going and sit a little straighter. “Like my father? Is that who you’re comparing me to?”

She lashes out, smacking me hard enough across the cheek that my head whips to the side. I scramble back immediately, jumping off the couch and putting distance between us.

I’m too old to put up with this anymore. For once, I’m glad Vinny and Alastair aren’t present. They already have such bad impressions of my mother, this would only solidify it.

“We don’t speak of that man,” she says, and I can’t help but laugh. It’s the same thing she’s been telling me my entire life.

“Then stop acting like Vinny and Alastair are copies of him,” I challenge. “They aren’t. I refuse to repeat the mistakes you’ve made.”

She sneers, glancing down at her hand. I’m not sure if she’s regretting striking me, or debating doing it again.

After a few tense seconds her fingers close into a fist, and for a moment I see us getting into a real brawl.

I’m pretty sure I can take my mother in a fight, but it’s never come to that. She’s not one for physical violence.

“I’m sorry, baby,” she says, her gaze softening. This I’m used to. The flip-flopping emotions are her trademark, and her grudges against me never last long. Next she’s going to try and smooth it over.

Vinny and Alastair have voiced their opinions several times on this. They call it manipulation and abuse. I hate that there’s truth in their words, but soon, we’ll be gone. And I plan to never darken my mother’s doorway again.

“I’m sorry for striking you,” Mom carries on when I don’t speak. “I’m so sorry. You just bring such anger out in me sometimes!”

“Violence won’t fix it,” I say through gritted teeth.

Mom nods, smoothing her hands down the front of her overalls. I can almost hear the next bit before she speaks. At this point she’s just following a pattern. “I am sorry. Why don’t you sit down? Watch your show. I’ll get us some lemonade. My homemade batch. Won’t that be nice?”

Rolling my eyes, I slowly sit down again. I just need to grin and bear it a few more weeks and then this will all be over. Or hell, maybe I’ll ignore Alastair’s advice and go to Vinny’s tonight. “Sure, Mom. Just like always. Let’s have a drink and pretend it never happened.”

Mom nods, stepping closer again. I tense, but all she does is stroke my hair for a moment. “Right. It’ll be like it never even happened.”

She spins once, twice, then glares at me again. Instead of the face of the woman who raised me, I’m staring at Char. The blunt haircut, the unkind eyes, the maddening similarities to my mother…

It’s more than similarities though. This is the monster my mother chose to become. And this isn’t a dream or a memory. It’s a nightmare -

I scream, throwing myself to the side of the bed. There’s banging someplace nearby, and I feel myself free falling, fabric tangling around me.

Strong hands grip me, and my face is saved from the floor. Panting, I start to beat at the grip on my arms in a panic.

“Shh,” I instantly recognize my husband's voice. He drags me back up on the bed, the sheets twisted around my legs. “I’ve got you, darling.”

His arms wind around me, and I take gulping breaths to steady myself. There’s a sticky layer of sweat across my skin. I’m not wearing a stitch of clothing but Vinny is, his shirt rubbing against my skin as I struggle to hug him back.

“In, out,” he reminds me, smoothing his opposite hand down my arm. “There, darling. Breathe with me.”