Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 76309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
“You eventually crack if I ask enough.”
He smiles again, head leaning back against the seat, stopped at a light. “It’s nothing important. Being back here just reminded me how far I’ve drifted over the years.”
“Elaborate on that.”
“They’re all… domesticated.” He shakes his head as if that’s not the right word. “They’re married. They have houses, children, assets. They’re settled. While I haven’t slept in the same bed for longer than a few weeks in a row since the day I left the States years back. I’m itinerant, a drifter, taking the kinds of jobs that make it pretty fucking hard to have a real life. Seeing all them again like this only made that more obvious.”
“Don’t you like it?” I brush my palms down my thighs. “Most people don’t get to see the things you’ve seen.”
“That’s true. But it comes at a price. I have nothing solid in my life. Nothing to hold on to. Only endless missions and grudges. I’m not sure where it’s all going or what any of it meant. Sometimes I wonder if I’ve made a difference in the world, or if I should’ve given up a long time ago.”
I squint at him without speaking. This is unexpected—he seems so confident, so full of himself, and to hear his insecurities makes me wonder what else he’s hiding behind his brave facade.
I make a noise in the back of my throat. “I’ll be honest. I didn’t expect you to think this deeply.”
“I’m very deep once you get to know me.” Another one of his smiles breaks through. “Truthfully, I haven’t thought about any of this in years. I’ve been so content drifting all over.”
“Until you saw them.”
“Exactly. Now I wonder if I’ve been so busy moving around that I’ve missed things. Their lives, their children growing up.”
I pull at my hair, smoothing it out. “Do you want a family?” I ask, blurting it out before I can stop myself.
His eyebrows raise. “I didn’t think we were really together. That’s a very boyfriend-girlfriend kind of question.”
“Just answer it, asshole.”
“I used to think a family was only an expensive liability. A family would hold me back and become a target for my enemies. Now, I’m not sure.” He glances at me. A shiver runs into my toes at the look he tosses my way, like I’m the reason he’s rethinking everything.
“I want a family,” I say, meeting his glance until he looks back at the road. “My parents abandoned me. First my dad, then my mom. They had me really young, my mom was like fifteen. My dad was a little older, twenty-two. He skipped town since it’s pretty gross to knock up a fifteen-year-old. Mom couldn’t handle being a young mother, so she ran after him. Last I heard, they were both addicts living in California, but Grandpop doesn’t talk about her much. She’s a sore subject.”
He nods to himself. “Must’ve been hard.”
“Grandpop gave me a good childhood. But I promised myself that one day I’d have kids, and I’d raise them the way Grandpop raised me. To sort of pay it back, you know? To be the mom I never had. That’s my dream.”
I feel strangely vulnerable, saying that out loud. He’s quiet for a while. I lean back, shifting lower in the seat, wrapping my arms around myself. I haven’t told anyone that before. I’ve always felt like it makes me sound silly or childish, but I’ve always wanted babies ever since I understood what Grandpop did for me. How much he sacrificed. I want to do that same thing for my children one day. Continue the cycle.
We pull into Lanzo’s apartment condo building. He parks in the garage, kills the engine, and looks at me before he gets out. Weak lights shroud his face.
“It’s a good dream,” he says. “What you told me about having kids. That’s a better dream than I’ve ever had.”
“You don’t have something like that? Something you really want?”
He pushes open the door. “Just Burian’s head in a bag.”
I watch him go for a moment, another chill running through me.
This time, the chill’s pure fear at the dead tone in his voice.
Chapter 15
Renata
Another night. Another strange bed.
This time, it’s not a hotel. It’s Lanzo’s place, and though he says he barely ever uses it, the sheets smell like him. Musky, masculine, with a faint lemon undertone. I can’t get his smell out of my head, and the moment the lights are off and I’m in nothing but a t-shirt and a pair of cotton shorts, I’m thinking about him out there on the couch.
Lying alone in the darkness.
“Mistake,” I whisper to myself as I get up. “Mistake,” I say as I walk to the door. “Huge mistake,” I say, opening it, walking down the hall.
My legs move on their own accord. I keep thinking about him in the car, the wistful look on his face, the worry in his tone as he described moving around, never settling. I have fears like that too—fears that I’ll never meet the right person, that I’ll drift along endlessly stuck in my Grandpop’s house, never moving on. A ghost life.