“No, Mommy. I stay with Rocky.”

  “Rocky?” Rebel’s eyes slice to me. “Who calls him Rocky?”

  “Mello,” Adaline whispers, finally letting Rebel lift her.

  “Well, Rocky has to get up. You can’t stay in his bed while he does that.”

  Adaline turns her face toward me as she sits in her mother’s lap on the edge of my bed. Her eyelids are heavy, but those big, deep eyes stare at me like she’s looking into my soul. “He’s sad,” the squirt whispers.

  “I’m great, baby,” I reassure her.

  “I heard you.” Her face goes all soft and cute like her voice.

  My body tightens.

  She heard me?

  No one’s heard me besides my mother the first few days after the accident.

  I know I still have the nightmares, waking myself up many times over the years, cold sweat covering me and a scream tearing out of my throat.

  “You heard me?” I ask, my gaze moving from Adaline to Rebel, who looks as confused as I feel.

  “Yelling.” She nods.

  “I was?”

  Fuck me.

  She nods, blinking slowly. “Who’s Carrie?”

  That single simple question is like a punch to the gut, bringing back the nightmare I had last night and have had every night since the accident.

  “Carrie was my friend, baby,” Rebel tells her, sweeping Adaline’s hair away from her face where it is clinging to her damp cheeks. “Rocco knew her too.”

  “Was she hurting you?” Adaline asks me, studying my face with such innocence in her expression. “In your dream.”

  I sit up, careful not to let the blankets fall below my waist. This is the first time I’ve ever had a conversation with a little girl and her mother while buck-ass naked. A woman I’ve been balls deep in before. A woman I felt something for years ago—and yet the fire that burned that night still glows deep inside me.

  “She wasn’t hurting me, Adaline. I promise.”

  “’Kay.”

  Rebel hugs her daughter tighter, resting her cheek against the top of Adaline’s head. “It was just a bad dream. You have bad dreams too, but they’re not real. Remember, baby?”

  Adaline pulls away and gazes up at Rebel. “And you snuggle me to make me feel better.”

  “I do.” Rebel brushes her lips against Adaline’s forehead. “That’s what you do when you love someone, baby. You chase away their sadness.”

  “He was sad and needed love, so I gave it to him.”

  The second gut-punch of the morning has officially been delivered by the kid and my feet haven’t even touched the floor.

  Brutal, honest truth.

  Rebel’s eyes meet mine, and the same sadness is in them that was also in Adaline’s. “That was sweet of you, baby,” Rebel tells her, looking away from me for a moment to focus on her kid.

  “Thank you,” I whisper, letting Adaline know I am grateful for her sweetness. “But you didn’t have to do that, squirt.”

  “You stopped,” she replies.

  I jerk my head back. “I stopped?”

  “I climbed up, snuggled you, and you stopped,” she explains, waving her tiny hand toward me.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper, swallowing down my remorse.

  “What do you say again, Mommy?” Adaline asks Rebel, tangling her fingertips around her mother’s dark black hair.

  “I don’t know, sweetie. I say a lot of things.”

  Adaline smiles, lighting up the room. “Hugs make everything better.”

  “I do say that, don’t I?” Rebel smiles down at the tiny carbon copy of herself.

  Adaline’s eyes brighten as the sleep seems to vanish from her tiny frame. “I’m thirsty.”

  “Come on, monkey. Let’s get you something to drink.” Rebel climbs to her feet and takes Adaline with her, giving me a quick but small smile.

  I just sit there, winded by the conversation, unable to form any words after everything that just transpired.

  Adaline’s eyes never leave mine as Rebel moves toward the bedroom door. She has her chin resting on Rebel’s shoulder, smiling at me with the sweetest little grin.

  I wave, trying to keep a smile on my face too, but feeling so many emotions swirling inside me.

  “Fuck,” I mutter as soon as the door closes and they’re both gone.

  Swinging my legs off the side of the bed, I lean over, resting my elbows on my knees and staring at the floor. What the hell just happened?

  The kid got under my skin.

  Not in a bad way, but taking me down a road that could very well be dangerous for my heart.

  I’m just about to stand when my phone starts to vibrate on the nightstand next to me. I glance over, seeing my mother’s name on the screen. I wait, staring as the phone dances around my nightstand, but I’m not about to answer. She never calls this early and never for no reason.

  There is one thing I know without having to pick up the phone—Carmello opened his big fat mouth, and Mom is calling to get the details.

  I breathe a sigh of relief when the phone grows silent. I’ve bought myself a few hours before I have to face the woman who gave birth to me. She won’t stop either until I tell her everything.

  I don’t even have one leg in my sweatpants when my phone starts again.

  “Fuckin’ Mello,” I mutter, grabbing my phone off the nightstand. “Hey, Ma.”

  “Busy?” she asks without even a hello.

  “Nope. Just got up.”

  “Alone?”

  Yep.

  Carmello talked.

  He probably sang like a canary last night, giving up every little detail, including the fact that I insisted Rebel and Adaline stay at my house and not his.

  “Yeah, Ma. Alone.”

  “Shame,” she says, blowing out an exasperated breath. “I’m coming over.”

  “Ma.”

  “No arguing. I’m just going to drop by for a few minutes. It’s been years since I’ve seen Rebel, and Mello told me about her little girl. I figured I could drop off a few things for her to have. He said they came with very little.”

  Mello and I are going to have words.

  He knew exactly how Ma would be, and he was calculated with the amount of information he dropped in her lap. If she was busy with me, she wasn’t watching him, telling him how to live his life.

  “Fine.” I sigh, resting my forehead in my hand, elbow on my knee.

  “Fine?” she asks, surprise in her voice.

  “Yeah, Ma. No use arguing, and whatever you can bring for Adaline would be great. She’s a sweet kid.”

  “I heard she’s a cutie and a talker too.”

  “She’s all that and more.”

  “She’s going to suck you in, baby.”

  “No one’s going to suck me in, Ma, especially not a five-year-old.”

  “Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself whatever you want. How’s Rebel?”

  “Good,” I say, not bothering to argue with her about Adaline, because she’s right, but I’ll die on that hill and never tell her how accurate her statement is.

  “Still pretty?”

  “More,” I mutter.

  “Mm-hmm,” she mumbles. “You’re a goner. Just don’t know it yet.”

  “I am not.”

  “Never saw you with a woman the way you were with her.”

  “She was hurt back then, Ma. What was I supposed to do?”

  “You were protective, just like we taught you to be over those you cared about, Rocco. Never seen you that way since. And based on what Carmello said, that feeling hasn’t left you.”

  “It’s gone, Ma. I’m just being nice. She needed somewhere to lay low, and I’m giving her that.”

  “Keep lying to yourself. See you in thirty, baby,” she tells me before the line goes dead.

  I curse as I pull on my sweatpants and ready myself for the insanity that’s about to happen when my mother lays eyes on Rebel and Adaline.

  If that kid is already pulling on my heartstrings and getting under my skin, she is going to have my mom wrapped around her pinkie in under five minutes.

  Izzy Caldo is a sucker for any baby.

  She is a badass too. There is no doubting that. No one messes with her, not even her brothers. But kids…they get to her every time.

  I am about to be screwed and not in any way I ever thought I wanted.

  10

  Rebel

  I barely have my favorite pair of ripped jeans around my hips when the doorbell rings. I freeze, staring at the bedroom door like the boogeyman is about to walk through it, even though Rocco told me who was coming.

  “Mommy.” Adaline’s on the floor, playing with the one doll I managed to stuff into her suitcase. “Why are you so scared?”

  “I’m not scared. I’m nervous. There’s a difference, baby.”

  “You look scared,” she tells me, always watching me like a hawk and calling me out on whatever I’m doing.

  Kids are great for that.

  They don’t hold back, and unless they’ve been caught doing something they shouldn’t be doing, they don’t lie.

  At least, Adaline doesn’t.

  The girl tells the truth even when it is the most painful thing to hear. She doesn’t have a filter and doesn’t understand how sometimes her words are painful even when completely honest.

  I shimmy the jeans up to my waist, fastening the zipper and button while holding in the gut I’ve been the proud recipient of since my pregnancy.

  “Is Beau here?” she asks me, her eyes filled with fear.

  I shake my head. “No. He’s far away.”

  “Good,” she whispers, continuing to play.

  “Rocco’s mom is here,” I reply, reaching for the only sweater in my suitcase since it is a rare cold winter day in Florida.

  Adaline’s eyes grow wide as saucers as she drops the doll to the floor. “Rocco’s mom?”

  “Yep. His mom.” I pull my hair up, holding it in one hand while slipping a rubber band around it. “Do I look okay?”

  Adaline studies me, her curious and careful eyes soaking in every inch of me. “Very pretty.”

  I lean over and place a kiss on her forehead. “You’re good for my ego.”

  “You’re always pretty, Mommy.”

  “You’re the pretty one, bug.” I tap her nose. “The most beautiful girl in the world.”

  She giggles and blossoms with every word, growing more confident.

  She climbs to her feet, the dress I put on her now with a few more wrinkles since she moved to the floor to play while I raced around the bedroom to get ready.

  “Do I look okay?” she repeats back to me.

  “You’re beautiful too.”

  “I want to look beautiful for his mommy like you.”

  “You do, baby. You do.”

  Their voices carry down the hallway, low murmurs impossible to make out, yet unmistakable.

  While I stand in the middle of the room, my heart racing, my feet not moving, Adaline takes it upon herself to skip around me and is out of the bedroom before I have a chance to stop her.

  “Come on, Mommy,” she says from the hallway and is gone in a flash, running toward the living room.

  “Oh God,” I whisper to no one but myself, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath.

  I haven’t seen Rocco’s mother since the hospital. It was the one and only time I met her. She was in a complete panic, yelling at the hospital staff until she laid eyes on her son.

  Two more long breaths and I open my eyes, smooth down my sweater, and walk out of the bedroom to face his mother again.

  No one looks my way when I enter the living room. Adaline is standing at Rocco’s side, her tiny hand in his as his mother crouches in front of her, talking softly.

  The sight alone makes my eyes burn. My daughter craves attention and love, and no matter how much I give her, it isn’t enough.

  It isn’t her fault.

  Children want acceptance, and she never received it from her father.

  “Well, aren’t you cute as a button,” Mrs. Caldo tells Adaline, tugging on the ends of her frilly pink dress. “You look like a princess.”

  “You’re pretty too,” Adaline replies, reaching out and touching her tiny fingertips to his mother’s blush-covered cheeks.

  His mother smiles at Adaline with so much warmth, there’s a dull ache inside my chest. “Thank you. You may be the most beautiful little girl I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

  I take one step and his mother’s eyes move from my daughter to me, but her smile doesn’t fade. She rises to her feet, standing before her son but with a clear line of sight to where I’m standing. “Rebel,” she greets me with nothing but warmth. “Honey, you look amazing.”

  The words are nice to hear, and even at my age, I soak them in. “Thank you, Mrs. Caldo. You’re…” My eyes rake over her perfect frame, covered in an outfit I could no doubt ever afford, even after years of working at any dive bar and saving every penny. “You’re stunning. I wish we’d had more…”

  She walks toward me, her heels clicking against the hardwood, shaking her head. “I’ll never forget that day. Come here.”

  I move into her embrace when her arms open, without even thinking if the behavior is normal because it feels right. “I’m sorry about all this,” I tell her.

  She pulls back far enough that I can see her face. “For what?”

  “For being a burden on your son.”

  Her face softens. “You could never be a burden.”

  I resist the urge to laugh because I’ve been a burden my entire life.

  After my parents died, my aunt made sure to remind me of that fact every single day I lived under her roof. My only escape was college after landing a full ride and joining a sorority, but that all fell apart after the accident.

  “I think Rocco needs you as badly as you need him,” she whispers to me, giving my arms a light squeeze before releasing me.

  I blink at her, confused. “I doubt that.”

  “Mommy, look.” Adaline holds up a light-brown teddy bear with dark-brown eyes and sporting a black bow tie around his neck. “Isn’t it pretty?” she asks me, her other hand still firmly planted in Rocco’s.

  “Gorgeous, baby.” I swing my gaze back to Mrs. Caldo and smile, stunned by her kind gesture. “Thank you.”

  Mrs. Caldo shakes her head, her long brown hair swaying with the movement. “It was no big deal. Carmello told me you were here with your little girl, and I had to come over and bring you some essentials.”

  “We have some stuff with us.” I sound defensive when I don’t mean to be. I’m grateful for the toy, but I also never want to be a charity case.

  “A little girl can never have too many cute things,” Mrs. Caldo says to me before crouching back down in front of Adaline. “What’s your favorite color, princess?”

  “Pink,” Adaline answers.

  “Next time, I’ll bring you something pink, then.”

  “That’s very kind of you, but we aren’t staying,” I tell her, earning a grunt followed by movement from Rocco.

  “You’re not leaving. It’s not safe,” Rocco tells me, being his bossy self, even so early in the morning.

  I cover Adaline’s ears with my hands and prepare for an argument. “We’ll be fine. The last thing you need is an old friend and her kid sticking around, cramping your style. We’re not your problem.”

  Mrs. Caldo’s quick intake of air is unmistakable. “Oh boy,” she whispers.

  Rocco steps around his mother, coming to stand in front of me. “Rebel, we’re not going to go over this again and again. You’re safe here, and Adaline is happy here too.”

  “Yeah,” Adaline adds, twisting her upper body while holding her new teddy bear in an embrace. “Stay here.”

  Rocco reaches for my hands, and I let him take them. “Once we know he’s not coming for you and I’m convinced you’ll be okay and you have what you need to survive, then you can leave.”

  I raise an eyebrow, staring into his brown eyes. “Is that an order, or are you asking me, Rocky?” I throw in that nickname, knowing full well he hates it.

  Mrs. Caldo snickers behind him, leaning to the side to give me a wink, but I remain stoic and continue my stare-down with her son.

  “I’m begging you,” he replies, throwing me for a loop because I never would’ve imagined Rocco Caldo would beg anyone to do anything.

  “Just stay, dear,” Mrs. Caldo says before I can reply. “Where else would you go?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know, but—”

  “She’s not going anywhere, Ma,” Rocco says, squeezing my fingers which are still in his palm, “and neither is my girl.” He winks at Adaline.

  I glance down at the floor, unable to meet his gaze any longer, guilt filling me. “I’ve always been a burden. It’s not a good feeling.”

  “Listen,” Mrs. Caldo says, interrupting whatever awkward moment we’re having. “Why don’t you three come to dinner at the house tonight? There’s nothing better than a home-cooked meal, and we can discuss this as a family.”

  “Ma, this isn’t a family issue.”

  “I’m making lasagna,” she says, drawing out the word in a melodic fashion, knowing her son better than anyone, along with his ability to eat.

  “Ooh,” Adaline says, licking her lips. “Lasagna. I love lasagna.”

  Mrs. Caldo leans over, scooping Adaline into her arms. “How about garlic bread? You like that too?”

  “I love it.” Adaline smiles, giggling when Mrs. Caldo kisses her cheek and eating up every bit of affection and attention.

  “It’s settled, then. The baby wants lasagna and garlic bread. The baby’s going to get lasagna and garlic bread. There’s nothing more to discuss. End of story.”

  Rocco scrubs his hand across his face. “You okay with this?” he asks me.

  I shrug. “Lasagna does sound good, and—” I lean closer so only he can hear “—I’m scared of your mother.”

  “That makes two of us,” he says, a small smile on his face. “We’ll be there, Ma.”

  Mrs. Caldo turns in a circle, Adaline still in her arms. “Wait until James sees this one,” she says to the two of us. “He’s going to go bananas.”