Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73989 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73989 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
“Donnie!” a man called.
“Rob, good to see you.” Rob and I hugged, and Joe stared at me like he’d never seen me before.
He’d gotten some glimpses of a softer side of me that almost no one outside my family had seen, but the man I was when I was here—being a friend to kids who’d lost a parent, letting them know that while the grief never disappears, it does get better—was even more rare.
Rob held his hand out to Joe. “I’m Rob Whitmore.”
“Joseph Daniels.”
“Donnie, I didn’t see your name on the roster for today,” Rob said.
“I’m not here to volunteer. I…” I glanced at Joe. Shit. I hadn’t thought through what I’d say when we got here. “Joe lost his parents when he was five, and he’s interested in volunteering too.” The words had just tumbled out, and as soon as I’d said them, I realized how wrong they were. It wasn’t my place to tell Joe’s story.
Rob turned to him. “I’m sorry for your loss. We’re always looking for more volunteers, and Donnie is one of our best.”
Joe looked at me and gave me a tight smile. “I’m sure he is. He’s shared a little bit about the organization, but I’d love to hear more from you about your mission and what I’d need to do to be approved as a volunteer.”
Thank God Joe was playing along. I supposed he was used to bluffing his way through interviews. As a detective he probably had to do that to get information out of people.
Rob explained how the organization paired children who had recently lost a parent with adults who’d experienced the same loss when they were young. He also explained the process of becoming a volunteer. Joe listened with what seemed like genuine interest. I hoped it was. Even though convincing him to volunteer here wasn’t my original intention, I had a feeling it would be good for him.
When Rob finished his explanation, he gave Joe his business card and explained that he could fill out a volunteer application on their website. We told Rob goodbye and left.
Joe didn’t say anything until we were in the parking lot.
When we were nearly to the car, he grabbed my arm and spun me to face him. “You… I…” He just stared at me, mouth open. The tension between us was heavy and thick. Joe seemed angry, but I wasn’t sure if it was because I was forcing him to see me as something other than a cold-hearted bastard or because I’d lied about why we were there. “You could have warned me.”
“I didn’t know what I was going to say either.”
He sighed.
“No one but Angelo knows I volunteer here, not even Lucien. I didn’t think about what to say because I knew I might change my mind about bringing you. I had to see how you reacted to Elena first.”
“You actually thought I would criticize Elena for taking your help? I know there are people the cops fail every day. I believe in my way of bringing people to justice, but I know sometimes our rules confine us too much. I’m glad you were there for her.”
Hearing him say that sent warmth through me. “Thank you.”
“I see who you really are. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here.” He took both of my hands in his. “Thank you for showing me what you have today, but you didn’t have to. I already knew you had a heart. It was just easier for me to ignore it before I met Rob and Elena.”
I nodded. “A lot of things would be easier if I didn’t feel anything.” I’d wanted to make him see the real me. I’d wanted him to believe I was worth caring about, but now that I’d done it, it felt like too much. As usual, I hadn’t thought through the consequences of my actions. I’d just jumped in, letting my heart guide me, and I wasn’t sure I could handle the results.
“Devil, I don’t—”
I pulled free of Joe’s hold and opened my car door. “Come on. Let’s go home. I’m hungry.”
I didn’t say anything on the ride back to Joe’s house and neither did he.
There were too many thoughts running through my head. Why did I think showing him more of me would change things between us? Even if he was sure there was more to me than a man who loved crime and danger, what real difference would it make? I was still a prominent member of a crime family. We weren’t meant for each other.
“Tell me more,” Joe said when we were almost to his house. “Tell me what happened that day back in high school.”
“I can’t.” I’d given enough—too much really—to a situation that wasn’t going to work. There was never going to be more than fucking between us.