My jaw aches as I stare out the window, watching Dante squirt Joey with the water hose. She squeals with laughter, and the sound should make me smile, but my brain is too full of other things—secrets and lies and broken promises.
A solid hand rests on my shoulder, squeezing tightly. “You know you have always been like a son to me, Maximo.”
“Hmm,” I mumble, my eyes narrowed as I continue staring at the scene outside.
When he doesn’t get the desired response, he goes straight for my weak spot. “I promised your father I would look out for you.”
“And you have, Sal,” I assure him. He took me in when I was fourteen, after my father was murdered. He and Sal were the best of friends. My father was his right hand. I practically grew up in this house even before my dad died. It was the one place other than my own home where I felt safe and wanted. Not that Sal fostered any of that comfort or familiarity. He has a violent temper and a cruel streak a mile long, but when he wants to shine his spotlight on you, he can make you feel like you’re king of the fucking world. No, it was his children and staff who’ve always made me feel like I belong here.
“You know you don’t have to meet with your uncle.”
I swallow the thick knot in my throat. I haven’t seen Uncle Vito in eight years—not since he ran off with my mom. She died a couple of months back, and I wonder if that’s what prompted his call a few days ago when he asked me to meet with him. I hate him. But he’s the only biological family I have left.
“I figure I might at least hear what he has to say.”
Sal snorts. “Nothing he has to say will be worth listening to. I guarantee it. He was always a useless sack of shit. He stole your mother, might as well have killed your father himself. Because that is why he died, Maximo, and you can’t forget that. And now he comes here looking for—what? Forgiveness? Does he want to be your uncle again now that he has nothing and nobody left?”
“I don’t know what he wants, Sal.”
He rubs a hand over his beard and frowns. “I can guarantee no good will come from meeting with him. We are your family, Maximo. We have always looked out for you. Protected you when you needed it. We’ve always had your back and we always will.”
He stares at me pointedly and his eye twitches. Does he know what happened? No. He can’t. Neither Dante or Lorenzo would have told him about what happened the other night. But maybe he saw something. This is his house and Salvatore Moretti sees everything.
“I know that, Sal,” I say, trying to keep my tone even and calm even while my insides churn and I feel like I might throw up.
“If you choose to meet with Vito, just remember that he is my enemy.” He pauses for a long beat. “And any friend of my enemy, Maximo …” He doesn’t finish the sentence. Doesn’t need to. The threat is implicit.
What do I hope to gain from meeting with my uncle after all these years? To hear his fake apologies and excuses? For him to tell me how much my mother suffered so he can share his grief with someone else who loved her?
I check my watch, feeling torn. If I’m going to make the meeting, I need to leave now.
“Lorenzo is going to speak to the Russians. They’re causing some problems at the shipyard. I’m sure he could use your help.”
I sigh and nod my agreement. “Sure, Sal.”
