His gaze doesn’t waver from mine as he gives a despondent nod. “What are you going to do about it?”

  “I’m going to start by searching for my birth family,” I decide. “Then I’m going to find out what happened to the real Josephine.” To my dismay, a set of tears race down my cheeks. “God, this sucks.” Swiping my arm over my face, I laugh and look away. “Wouldn’t it be a kick in the ass to discover my real parents were a normal, fun-loving couple who planned to spoil me with trips to the beach and Disney World?”

  “The chances of that are probably slim.” Rocco takes my chin between his thumb and pointer finger. “Look at me, Jo.”

  With my last bit of energy, I grip his forearm as my eyes slide back to meet his.

  “I’m here for you. As little or as much as you need me. Until you tell me to leave, I’m not going anywhere.” Sliding his other hand against my face, he strokes his warm thumb along my jaw. “I gave up on relationships a long time ago, but I haven’t given up on you. Take whatever it is you want or need from me, Jo.”

  Our close proximity and his intimate expression, on top of the recent revelations about my childhood, are all too damn much. Caving like a house of cards, I lean into him, needing to feel the assuring strength of his lips.

  His gaze frantically searches mine. “You sure about this?” he rasps, his breath scorching hot against my mouth. “Once we start something, there’s no guarantee I can simply walk away, even when you decide you’re done with me.”

  “Would you shut up and kiss me already?” Deep down, I acknowledge what he’s saying and understand I could be making a massive mistake by giving in to my needs. But logic is nowhere to be seen when I thread my fingers inside his hair and drag his mouth down to mine.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  BEFORE

  Rocco

  After the new neighbors move in, I don’t see the little girl for weeks. Then one day, I have a feeling she’s in the backyard because I hear the thud of a rubber ball hitting the fence over and over. It’s the weekend, and the man left in their station wagon a few hours ago. The woman must be somewhere inside.

  I race over the hole in the fence to watch her. This time, her hair is brown instead of yellow, and dark shadows linger beneath her eyes. She looks pretty mad the way she’s chucking the red ball at the fence. She’s even smaller than I remember, or maybe it’s just because the sundress she’s wearing is several sizes too large.

  “Hi!” I call out to her. “Remember me?”

  Her brown eyes dart to the house before she shuffles over to me in the grass. “Roc-o?” she whispers, her voice light and airy like a cartoon character.

  “That’s right,” I say, flashing my biggest smile. “What’s your name?”

  Her eyes slide back to the house again before she answers in a tiny voice, “J-Josep’ine.”

  I know it kinda makes me a bully, but I laugh. It sounds like a really big name for such a little girl. “How about I call you ‘Jo’ instead?”

  With a shy smile, she dips her chin twice.

  “Do you want to come over to play, Jo? We can kick your ball around the yard or whatever you want.”

  Looking down at her bare feet, she gives me a little shake of her head. “I can’t.”

  “Even if you ask?”

  “They won’t let me.”

  I remember my conversation with the people I thought to be parents and suddenly feel mad for her. “The man and the lady you’re living with?”

  She nods.

  “Who are they?”

  She glances down, wiggling her toes in the grass. “Mommy and Daddy.”

  Huh, I think. That’s weird. What is going on with these people?

  Since she’s really young and doesn’t seem comfortable with me, I decide not to push her any more about who those people really might be to her. I’m just glad she’s finally talking to me. “How old are you?”

  Still looking down, she tugs at one of the straps on her sundress. “Ummm…six.”

  “Six?” I repeat, my eyes growing wide. “So you’re in kindergarten?”

  She gives me another little shake of her head before looking up at me. “I don’t go to school. Mommy teaches me here.”

  “That sucks,” I say. Even though I hate school, I would hate it more if I was stuck at home all day and unable to play with my friends at recess. Now I understand why she looks so lonely. The man and woman must be even meaner than I thought. “Where did you live before you moved here?”

  “At my house, with my mommy.”

  I let out a little laugh. I get that a six-year-old might not be too good with geography, but wouldn’t she at least know the name of the town? “Did you live far away?”

  She shrugs. “Don’t know.”

  While she bends to pick a dandelion near her feet, I cross my arms. How can she be six? Maybe she’s slow. I guess I could try to help her out. Our class was once paired with a kindergarten class at school and we had to play a bunch of games that were supposed to help them learn how to count and stuff. If she’s going to be home every day, I may as well teach her something useful.

  “We could play a game through the fence,” I tell her. “It won’t be easy, but we’ll figure it out somehow. Would you like that, Jo?”

  Her cheeks lift and turn pink with the biggest smile in the world. What a cutie.

  I’m starting to feel really sorry for this kid.

  Papá is home. For good this time.

  It happened so suddenly that sometimes I have a hard time believing it’s true. Nonna says his heart isn’t working right, and the Army decided they didn’t want him anymore because of it, so he flew back to live with us. He’s been kinda grumpy since he returned, but having him around has still made me the happiest I’ve ever been.

  I peek inside his bedroom first thing every morning to make sure he’s still there and his return wasn’t just some dream I had. He slept a lot at first. Nonna said the time change from Germany and the long flight wore him out.

  Then, after a few days, he started getting up in time for breakfast. Afterward, he’d work on little things around the house that needed fixing, like the squeaky back door and the leaky kitchen faucet. Since school is out for the summer, I’ve been getting up each day in time to watch him get ready. He sometimes lets me help with his projects. Other times, he gets kinda crabby and tells me to play outside because he needs time alone.

  I’ve been playing with Jo every afternoon since the day she told me her name. We try to be quiet because she doesn’t think her parents want me to play with her. She’s a smart kid, and I love finding ways to make her laugh. Whenever I hear her high-pitched little giggle, I can’t stop smiling. Every time I head over to the fence, I find her waiting for me on the other side.

  I’m worried about her. Does she just sit outside all day long? What will she do once it starts getting cold in the fall? Why won’t her parents let her come to my house? Why don’t they ever take her anywhere?

  “We have new neighbors,” I tell Papá one morning as he’s shaving over the bathroom sink. “It’s a mom and a dad with a little girl named Jo. She told me she’s six, but she’s really small and acts more like a super little kid. Her mom teaches her school at home. I don’t think they take her anywhere. Ever. She acts really lonely, so I’ve started hanging out with her. She’s pretty smart and catches on fast. We have to play different games through the hole in the fence because her parents won’t let her come over.”

  Papá’s dark eyes meet mine in the mirror, making me shiver. Now that I’m older, it’s easy to tell I’m his kid. We have the same nose and mouth, the same thick black hair. Except he’s way taller with a lot of muscles, and he knows how to look super scary when he wants, something Nonna said helped when he was in charge of soldiers in the Army. No one’s ever scared of me since I’m built like a string bean.

  “Why won’t they let her come over?” he asks, sounding mad.

  I lift both shoulders and puff out a big breath. “I dunno. They seem kinda mean. I don’t think her mom likes her very much.”

  He cleans the shaving cream off his razor in the water-filled sink. “I’ll go over there and introduce myself.” He continues shaving his face. “I’ll straighten things out.”

  That night after dinner, I swear Papá is at the new neighbors’ forever before he finally returns home. His face is blotched with red spots when he stomps through the kitchen. He doesn’t say anything when he heads straight to the freezer for the container of strawberry gelato Nonna brought home earlier in the day.

  With her hands on her hips, Nonna scowls at him when she asks in Italian, “What is this about? Why do you look that way?”

  “That man and woman next door are filthy liars,” Papá answers, also in Italian. He gives me a worried glance before he grabs three bowls out of the cupboard and begins scooping gelato into each one. “I don’t want my son going over there anymore.”

  “I can speak Italian, too, you know,” I tell him with a huff. “What did they lie about?”

  “They said they don’t want you near their daughter because you’re a bad influence. They told me you bullied her and claimed you hit her.”

  Anger burns my face. “But I didn’t⁠—”

  “Hush, boy!” he snaps, tossing a spoon into Nonna’s dish and handing it to her. “I know you’re not a bully, and you would never raise your hand to a woman. That’s why I say they’re liars. I think you’re right about the girl’s age, too. I could see her in the next room. She was curled around herself in a little ball. She looked terrified.”

  “Why would they lie about her age?”

  “I’m not sure. But I want you to stay far away from them. We don’t need a reason for them to invent more excuses and accuse you of something else you didn’t do. If they ever claimed something untrue to the authorities, your future would be over. I want you to stay far away from the girl, too.”

  “But, Papá⁠—”

  “There’ll be no buts about it, Rocco! You can tell a lot about a man by how he treats his child. That mother, too. Their daughter must’ve been an unplanned pregnancy. Maybe their religion prevented the mother from getting an abortion. They’re not good people. That girl would be better off with a different family.”

  “What about us? Could she come stay here?”

  “That’s not an option, Rocco.” Papá’s jaw tightens. “Besides, they would never allow such a thing. They clearly don’t want us meddling in their business.”

  “Can’t we tell someone, like the principal at my school? They’re always telling us if something isn’t right at home⁠—”

  “I don’t want you getting involved!” Papá roars. “This discussion is over!”

  With a firm look that stops me from saying anything more, he takes his bowl of gelato and goes into the living room, leaving me alone with Nonna. When I hear the hum of the TV, I shuffle closer to her.

  “The girl is lonely,” I whisper in Italian. “Just like you said.” I blink away the tears starting to form. They’re due to frustration more than anything. Whatever’s going on next door isn’t right. I don’t like how they’re treating Jo. “I think she’s scared of her parents, too. If I don’t go over there, she’ll be left alone with those people.”

  “You’re a good boy.” Nonna sets her bowl of gelato back on the countertop. She then pulls me into a tight hug and kisses the top of my head. “This will not be the end of your friendship with her. I will make sure of it. Your papá will understand with time.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  PRESENT DAY

  Josephine

  Ijerk awake to shouting and the weight of an arm flinging over my side. Disoriented, I blink rapidly against darkness.

  “Stop!” Rocco yells from right behind me. “Don’t make me hurt you!”

  I gently shrug him off me and sit upright as my vision adjusts to Rocco’s naked silhouette on the bed beside me. Details from earlier return with the force of a mallet striking a gong. Once he kissed me like I asked, neither of us could stop what came next.

  The sex was fantastic, and it felt terrific to lose myself in the luxury of pleasure, but still. I must keep a clear head if I’m going to uncover my true identity and the reason my parents abducted me.

  Wincing, I carefully swing my legs over the side of the queen bed and begin collecting my articles of clothing scattered across the bedroom floor. I can’t believe I allowed my emotions to dictate my actions. It’s so unlike me. Then again, I’m not myself around Rocco. I seem to lose all sense of responsibility when faced with his tantalizingly fit body and beautiful smile. I can’t afford to fall victim to his kindness like I did when we were teenagers.

  I turn away from him, pulling on my undergarments with the stealth of a ninja. I made a grave mistake when coming over to show him the photographs. The empathy he exhibited reminded me all too well of the younger version of him who had loved me unconditionally. If I don’t run from him and the situation now, it might be too late to fight against the feelings I buried all those years ago.

  I’m slipping my sweatshirt over my head when a deliciously dark chuckle fills the room. “I’m surprised you stayed this long,” Rocco muses.

  Keeping my back turned to him, I step into my joggers. “It’s nothing personal. I need to let Henry out.”

  “Bring him over. It’s early, and I’m not finished with you.”

  The possessiveness in his deep timbre warms me down to my toes. I forgot what it’s like to be involved with an alpha male, probably because Rocco was the only one of that type to make my list of suitors. I’d be tempted to stay for another round if my life wasn’t so convoluted.

  “Easy, tiger,” I say with a soft laugh that stems more from nerves than humor. I turn to face him with a dismissive smile. “This was fun, but I have more important things to do while I’m back.”

  “I’ll help you dig into this mess with your parents,” he offers, sitting up and brushing his hair out of his eyes. “I told you I’m here for you—I can clear my calendar with a phone call to Chris and Nonna’s nurse.”

  “Let’s not make this any more complicated than it needs to be. I’ll probably head home in another day or two.” I jerk my gaze away from the temptation of his beautiful body and start for the bedroom door. “I promise to say goodbye before I leave.”

  His bare feet land on the floor with a thud before his warm fingers wrap around my wrist. “I warned you, Jo.” He nudges me around to face him. “Just because you decide you’ve had enough fun with me and don’t need anything else doesn’t mean I’ll simply walk away. Our bond as kids is still there—maybe stronger than ever after our conversation last night.” His eyes sweep over my face before his voice deepens. “My feelings for you…they didn’t fade with time.”

  Something dislodges inside my chest and rises in my throat.

  It would be far too easy to love this man again. Then again, I’m not certain I stopped loving him after the first round.

  “I don’t have time for this,” I snap, prying his grip off my arm and spinning around to open the door. “I appreciate your friendship, and that’s all this will ever be.” I regret glancing back at him when I catch the glare of disappointment burning through his gaze. “Trust me, it’s better for both of us this way.”

  After taking Henry for a 3-mile walk and grabbing breakfast from a little cafe a block from campus called Stomping Grounds, I head back to my parents’ house. I finish browsing through the old album where I’d found the photograph of the actual baby Josephine. Hoping to find another clue, I pull out every photograph to search for more hidden messages or secret photos. Aside from more pictures of a pregnant Diane and some younger pictures of my parents with a bunch of strangers, the effort ends up being a waste of time.

  Shortly before the noon hour, I take the dreaded drive to the nursing home. Although it will be difficult to face my incapacitated dad without wanting to shake answers out of him, the trip seems unavoidable at this point.

  I don’t know what I was expecting, but discovering my dad sitting upright and fully clothed in an armchair comes as a complete shock. When the middle-aged nurse leaves me alone with him in the small room, I have to bite my tongue and remind myself of everything the nurse said—he can function to a small degree, like chewing and swallowing when he’s fed, but he isn’t all there.

  Although he’s only 73, he’s aged considerably since my last visit to Iowa and could pass for someone in their late eighties. I’d estimate he’s lost at least 40 pounds, and he didn’t weigh much to begin with. His skin was always a little crepey from spending countless hours tending to the yard, but his dark veins weren’t as prevalent before. Deep lines crease his pale face, and his eyelids droop, significantly altering his appearance. I don’t know that I would’ve recognized him in passing.

  Mustering the slightest amount of enthusiasm proves impossible. Seeing him only reminds me of the dark childhood they created for me and ignites my growing desire for answers.

  “Hi, Dad.” My voice is dull, and my lips remain tight as I approach him. His green eyes track me without the slightest spark of recognition. I sit on the edge of the bed, mere feet from where he’s sitting, and study his expression when I blurt, “Rocco gave me the Polaroid.”

  Nothing.

  “Call me crazy, but I’m starting to think you and my mother were hiding me from the world when I was a kid because you abducted me.”

  His blank gaze fixated on me sends a cold shiver down my spine. What other kind of unimaginable things has he done in his lifetime?

  “Why, Dad?” I ask, clenching my teeth when tears sting the back of my eyes. “Who were my real parents? Why did you take me from them? Why did you two spend my entire childhood acting like you hated me for existing? What happened to the real Josephine?”