Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 66962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
“Shit,” Rhys said. “You’re in love with him.”
I took a step back. “I… That’s not…”
“You are because right now, you look just like I did when I realized I didn’t hate TJ after all.”
“Someday. I’d like to hear that story.”
“We’ll see.”
Rhys climbed into his truck and drove off.
21
BLADE
When Carlo stepped back into the house, he looked disturbed.
“Is everything okay? Was anything wrong with the horse?”
“Everything’s fine. Rhys can just be a little abrasive.”
That was true, but so could I. “He’s a good guy, but he’s not afraid to tell a person what he thinks. What did he say that upset you?”
Carlo shook his head. “It’s nothing. Really.” I stared him down until he finally said, “He was just warning me not to fuck around with you.”
“Too late for that.” At least that made Carlo smile. “I want to say I’m not fragile, but you’ve already seen how messed up I am.”
“I know Rhys means well. They all do. They just want to protect you. If you’d rather I go back to the house…”
“No. I already told you. You’re mine to protect. After all, I’m the one who forced you to stay here after you bargained your way out of it.”
I loved watching color rise in his cheeks. “That was… I don’t know what the hell I was thinking.”
“I shouldn’t have taken advantage of it, but—”
“I wanted every single thing we did that night and all we’ve done every time we’ve been together. I’ve been drawn to you from the moment you pressed me up against the cabin wall.”
I patted the spot beside me on the couch, and he sat down. We were silent for a few moments. I wasn’t sure what else to say. I didn’t think either of us were in a position to explain more about what we felt or to make any promises, but I did want him there.
Finally, he said, “So if you weren’t working with horses before you were in the marines, what were you doing?”
“My mother would say I was trying my best to fail out of high school and/or get myself killed.”
“And what would you say?”
“That I was trying to fit in. We moved around a lot.”
“Was your dad in the military?”
“No. He was just really good at losing jobs.”
“Oh. That sucks.”
Yeah, it did. I wasn’t stupid. I could have made better grades, but I just couldn’t make myself care. It felt so pointless. I knew there wasn’t money for college. I assumed I’d end up working at the mechanic shop where I was already working, but one of my friends started talking up the idea of joining the military and getting money for college and a chance to get out from where we were. I thought why the hell not.”
Carlo’s expression told me he could think of plenty of reasons.
“Soon after joining the marines, I was getting high praise for my performance. I was already a good marksman, but they made me so much better, and I furthered my knife skills, which I’d mainly used for butchering what I’d caught. Before long, I was known for my ability to throw a knife and always hit my target.”
“And that’s why they called you Blade?”
I nodded. “One of the guys used the name before I was even all that good. It stuck.”
“So what’s your real name?”
“Logan, but it’s been years since anyone has called me that. When I had a chance to apply for special forces, I did. I wouldn’t have stayed in forever, but I didn’t think I’d go out like I did.”
Grief for all I’d lost hit me hard. I’d been okay talking about the past for a while, but as I started thinking about the way my military career ended, my pulse sped up and panic started to close in on me.
“You don’t have to tell me anymore,” Carlo said.
“I don’t think I can.”
“That’s okay. You look pale. Do you need to lie down?”
“No. Maybe. Why don’t you tell me more about your village and why you had to leave?”
Carlo got us settled in bed. He was quiet for a while, but finally he began to talk.
“When my older brother, Biagio—we usually call him B—was twelve and I was ten, my father decided he wanted us all in New York with him. No one said this to me directly, but he’d decided my mother was a bad influence. What he said was that it was time for us to start learning about the family business.”
“That young?” I was horrified.
“My little brother, Matteo, was only eight.”
“Jesus.”
“I hated it. I wanted to go back to Italy, but other than summer visits, I wasn’t allowed. Things were bad enough, but once we got to high school, it sucked. I went to a Catholic boys’ school, and the teachers hated me and my brothers. They knew who our family was and what we did, but they couldn’t kick us out. My father donated a lot of money to the church, so they grudgingly kept us there, but they made everything extra hard for us. When I made a bad grade or got in trouble, not only would I get torn apart by my teachers, but my father would tell me I was bringing shame on the family. I hated it. B did what he always did and worked himself to exhaustion to be what my father wanted. Schoolwork came easy to Matteo, but for me I had to work hard, and, like you said, it just felt pointless. I knew what I would be doing with my life. It wasn’t like I had a choice.”