24. Evelyn

Tightness blooms all over my chest, blasting heat to my face, across the bridge of my nose as I hurry upstairs into my room where I can't even cry in peace because the twins are in my bed. Still, I can't stop the tears. The silent sobs of my heartache spill down my cheeks as I open the door to leave when I hear a whisper.

"Zia Evie?" Courtney whispers, rubbing her eyes with her small hands. "Are you okay?"

"No, but I will be." Force of habit has me pulling out my phone. "Jeeze, it's ten after two in the morning. I"m sorry I woke you, baby. Go back to sleep, Court."

"I can't. Roman's feet stink and he won't stop kicking me."

"Why isn't he in the spare room with the bunk beds?" I ask quietly and tiptoe over to the bed where I see how much she looks like Shana. Thick, black, wavy hair and big brown eyes, but she has the same freckles across the bridge of her nose, like me.

"He said he's scared Dad's gonna come back and steal us. We're waiting for Mom to come home. We don't want to go with him."

"I'm not scared," Roman says with his eyes still closed. His arms are folded across his chest, but he's very much awake. "I'm in here because Court's scared to sleep in this room by herself. The bed's too high and there's a monster under it. Granddad said something about the butcher of Howard Beach lives under there."

I groan. I could kill Dad for filling their heads with that nonsense. Instead, I stoop down and slide my body under the bed. Mischief gets the better of me as I use my feet to kick the mattress through the slatted platform, growling and roaring.

"Ahh, the monster got me."

They scream and burst into laughter as I pull myself out from under the bed. "Yuck. Now I need to shower."

"Aww man, does that mean we have to go back to the bunk beds?" Courtney asks. "Nan said that you're living with your husband. We were going to change the spare room into Roman's room, and this one is going to be mine."

"It's still going to be yours," I tell her. "I'll sleep in the bunk bed for now. You guys get some sleep. You're both super safe here. No one's coming to steal you."

"Or shoot at us?" Roman deadpans with an eye opening in my direction. His light brown hair falls like a 90s boyband member around his ears.

"No shooting, either."

"Mom can take us away, though, right?" Courtney asks.

"She's in jail, Court. Don't be stupid." Roman scoffs and turns away from us. "It's all stupid Dad's fault. He let her take the blame for what he did. That's not what men do."

My eyes well with tears from the pain and hurt in his voice. He sniffs and wipes his face on the sleeve of his pajamas, sitting up angrily and pointing at me. "Granddad said that a man keeps his promises. If he does something, good or bad, he owns it. That's what a man does."

His voice cracks, and I want to stop him, but Roman has a lot to get off his chest.

"If he gets in trouble, caught dead to rights" —he sniffs his tears— "he's gotta be a man. He gotta say he did it and not get anyone else in trouble. He's not a man. He took our mom away, and, and, Zia Evie, wh–wh–what if she never comes back?"

His shoulders slump as the floodgates open. I climb onto the bed right in the middle of my precious niece and nephew to let them cry into my sweater over the shitty way life's been handling all three of us lately. It"s not fair to them. They have to get away from this shit.

"I know this is a lot on you guys. I'm going to tell you a secret." I sniff away my own tears. "The adults don't have any idea what they're doing, but I promise your mom is coming back. I swear she's coming back for you guys."

I need to talk to Shana, but in the meantime, I let my head lean back against the wall until they stop crying. Fifteen minutes later, Roman and Courtney are sound asleep. I slip off the bed and out of the room, closing the door behind me. There's always wine in the kitchen, and I'm in desperate need of a glass.

My parents are talking at the table when I hear something I'm probably not meant to.

"I saw the rings, Matteo," Ma says, guzzling a sip and hissing with the afterburn. "She's not going to be here long. He's coming back for her. He wants to be with her, like really be with her."

"He's done. Alessandro De Luca is a man of purpose, singular fucking focus. He needs to be the next Don of the De Luca organization instead of his batshit crazy uncle. He doesn't need Evelyn getting in the way, and he said as much. I simply nudged him a bit further in the right direction, telling him about Johnny. It's for the best anyway with what's coming to town."

The burning sensation rushing through my nose as I see red, angry at their conversation, propels me down the stairs in record time. The sound of the table shaking after I slam both hands down on the table startles them both.

"What did you do?" I snarl, my eyes narrowing at my father.

"Take it easy, Evelyn. Sit down. Have a glass of wine," he says nonchalantly.

Ma doesn't waste time pouring me a glass and sliding it across the table. She gestures toward the chair for me to sit down.

"You two need to talk, and now," I demand. I'm sick of them keeping things from me and then simply expecting me to fall in line.

"Listen," Dad begins. "Your mother and I?—"

Ma cuts him off. "Oh, no, you don't. I had nothing to do with any of this. I tried to talk you out of this weeks ago. You're lucky she's your daughter or else she'd have your head on a chopping block. Where do you get off marrying our little girl without me and her sister? Or sweet Anita? Weddings are supposed to be joyous occasions. And don't even get me started on what you took from poor Alessandro."

It's one of the first times I see my mother's softer side. At least, when it comes to fighting for me.

"What did I take from him?" Dad asks with his lips pursing in confusion.

"That boy fell in love with our Evie and look what you did. You put all that static in his head to make him second-guess the way he feels. He was going to marry her for real. I know because I saw the rings. So don't you put anything on your mother and me. You fucked up, Matteo, and so help me, you'd better fucking fix it before I fix you."

Ma pushes herself away from the table, downs the rest of her wine, and leaves me alone with my father grumbling to himself.

"Dad, please, just tell me what's going on." Exhaustion settles over me as I wait for whatever he has to say.

"Evelyn, it's Alessandro. All of it." He huffs with his arms folded over his chest. I can see where Roman gets it from, the same pout and tough guy exterior.

"How? What? Make it make sense, Dad."

"It's not Don Montegna like we originally thought. The shootings? My guys on the street are telling me that this guy, Gramercy or something, is in New York. About twenty, twenty-five years ago, he blew into town and did a couple of hits for some old bosses. Rumor is he botched a hit and skipped town. He's the guy people call when innocents gotta get hurt."

"What? Alessandro was what, nine? Ten? That's a year older than the twins." Shock ricochets through my body like a pinball machine. "Who the hell would try to kill a kid?"

"I don't know." He waves his hand at the idea and shrugs. "I mean, we think because his name and his father's name are so close, the hitman mistook Alessandro for Sandro. None of us were Dons yet. We were working our way into it. But a few years after this Gramercy guy disappeared, he came back and dropped out of sight again. Then we think that's how he got the scar down his face."

My father has no idea how large Alessandro's scars truly are. Who could do that to a kid?

"So, Don De Luca waits for his son to heal. Then him, Alessandro, and Oscar go on a spree. They are slicing and dicing people up and down the east coast looking for the guy who cut his face. The rest of us didn't get it, but we get it. It's like anger and revenge feeding each other until you get the Butcher of Howard Beach. By the time Alessandro was eighteen, he'd killed about fifty people looking for the guy who"d sliced up his pretty face."

"You think there's something funny about that?" I ask him with disgust rippling through me.

"No, of course that's not funny, but really? It's like a paper cut and Alessandro overreacted. The scar looks cool, and he had a few stitches. Big fucking deal."

Anger surges as I get up and flip the table onto its side.

"Hey, yo! What the entire fuck, Evelyn?"

My mother and the twins dash down the stairs, and it reminds me that we're not alone in the house.

"Non è solo una cicatrice sul viso." I shout at him with tears running down my face.

"What's not just a scar on whose face?" Ma asks before turning to the twins. "Guys, Evie's upset. She's sorry. Go back to bed."

I stop yelling at my father long enough to face my niece and nephew. "I'm sorry, Courtney, Roman. I didn't mean to wake you. I got angry."

"It's okay to have big feelings, Zia," Roman says.

Courtney wags her thumb between her and her brother. "Yeah, and we know all about how to handle them thanks to you."

I give her a smile and a nod for the reminder.

Roman huffs. "As long as we don't have to clean it up."

"Good night, you two." Ma shoos them up the stairs and they retreat.

My ire refocuses on my father. "You have no idea what he went through. You're lucky that a butcher is all he's become when he could have devolved into your worst fucking nightmare. I've seen the scars. Instead of lying to him about some phantom fucking crush I had when I was some dumb kid, you could have told him the truth. I have to get out of here. I need to warn him and can't stand looking at you."

"Evelyn." He approaches me with his hands up in surrender. "I'm sorry, honey. I just wanted you safe. If I would have told him the truth, he would have locked you away in that house on the island or wherever he fucking lives in the vineyard. You needed to be home."

"So what if he would have locked me away? I would have been safe WITH HIM. He keeps me safe! He sees me. Evelyn. Only me. Not a shadow of my martyr sister, not the daughter of the entitled, insensitive Don Rossi, but me. He listens to me. He respects me."

He was upset with me before, but that was personal, between us. This shit my father pulled? A fierce blow of frustration accompanies the short breaths I take to calm down.

"Come to my room, Evelyn," Ma says. "Your father can sleep in the car."

"I just wanted you safe at home where I can protect you, Evelyn," Dad reiterates, and it breaks my heart.

"My home isn't here with you. It's with Alessandro. You should be happy, Don Rossi. You're getting exactly what you wanted, a treaty between the De Luca and Rossi families. You'd better hope that I can make things right, or so help me…"

I can't even think of a threat that will be honest enough for me to keep. He's still my father, and while I'll never agree with his tactics, I understand. Ma doesn't hassle me for any information or gossip about Alessandro. Instead, she gets me one of my old T-shirts from my bedroom. The twins are snoring, and I climb into bed beside my mother where I get to cry into her arms until I fall asleep.

Zena Rossi pats me lovingly on the head as I sob, her last words this dreadfully long day coming with a hint of laughter. "It's going to be alright, Evelyn. I hated that table anyway."