Wild and Wicked, page 13
“It means, if anyone messes with one of my teammates, I take care of it.” He lifted his fists, boxer-style.
“I can’t see you fighting anyone. You seem way too chill.”
“Yeah. My family says the same thing. Everyone except Liza. She and I were closest in age, so the two of us were no strangers to fighting and tussling when we were kids.”
“What was Liza like when she was little? I bet she kept your parents on their toes.”
Elio shrugged. “You have to remember, by the time Liza came along, Mom and Dad already had three rowdy boys, all between the ages of eleven and one. It’s safe to say by that point, they were a bit numb, desensitized.”
“There’s a big age gap between you and your brothers.”
“Yeah. There’s five years between Bruno and Aldo, five between me and Aldo. Then Liza came along a year after me. I’m pretty sure she was my mom’s last-ditch attempt at getting her girl.”
“Must have been nice growing up with brothers and a sister. Being an only child sucks.”
“Yeah, it is cool, but sometimes I think I missed out on too much of the sibling stuff because I was always away, playing hockey. Daily practices, games, the travel I mentioned. And it’s gotten worse since we’ve become adults.”
“What do you mean?” Gianna asked.
“I’m the one who moved away. Hockey keeps me on the road and busy most of the year. Bruno’s kids know me as Uncle Elio, but they’re still shy around me. Meanwhile, Uncle Aldo shows up and they’re dive-bombing him, begging him to wrestle and play with them.”
Gianna sensed regret in Elio’s voice, which was strange because she’d genuinely believed he loved his chosen life path.
“Aldo and Liza have the same group of friends, so they hang out together all the time.”
“You’re a part of that group,” Gianna interjected.
“Part-time, at best. Apart from my relatives, I’m not exactly close to the rest of the friends in that circle, simply because I’m never around. I mean it was nice of Penny to invite me to her wedding, but I probably haven’t spoken to her more than a handful of times over the years. And you and I…until this week…”
“We were acquaintances,” she filled in for him.
“Yeah. That’s exactly what we were.”
“You know,” she said, “hockey isn’t forever.”
He nodded. “I know that.”
“Will you come back to Philly after you retire from the game?”
“Oh, hell yeah. Baltimore is great, but it’s never been home.”
“What will you do after you stop playing?”
He shrugged as he rose, grabbing her glass and his to fill up with more water. By tacit agreement, neither of them had had anything else alcoholic to drink since their tequila night. Her because there was a chance she was pregnant. And him…well, he didn’t say it aloud, but she got the feeling he was eschewing alcohol as some form of support or camaraderie.
“Would you coach?” she asked, when he brought the glasses back, placing them on the table. She smiled her thanks.
He shook his head. “Not professionally. Maybe as a volunteer coach for the leagues I grew up in.”
She pressed, curious about his future plans. “Would you go work for Moretti Brothers Restorations?”
“God, no. I’m a fair hand with a hammer, but I don’t see me building anything.”
“Would you go back to school?”
A small smirk crossed Elio’s face. “I hated school. Did what I had to do to get my C’s and got the hell out.”
She huffed out a breath. “Do you have any plans at all?”
“Nope,” he admitted. “I always thought I’d figure it out when I needed to.”
Her eyes widened. “Zero plans?”
“Is that making your brain itch?” he asked, recalling her problem with their overflowing liquor cabinet.
“Yes.”
“Will it help if I promise to give it some serious thought when I get back to Baltimore?”
“Yes. That would help a lot.”
“You got it.”
Several minutes passed as they continued eating.
“So what kind of kid were you?” Elio asked, tossing the question she’d asked back at her.
“I was a good kid. Boring, actually,” she admitted.
“Never snuck out of the house to go to parties? Never snuck Sam in? No drunken frat parties in college?”
“None of that,” she answered honestly.
“Seriously?”
“I told you, Grandma and I didn’t have a lot of money. I knew I wanted to go to college, so as soon as I was old enough, I started working, saving as much as I could. When I got my first paycheck, I tried to give some to Grandma, but she said it was her job to pay the bills and my job to get into college. I wanted to help her because she worked so hard and because her life had been so difficult. So…since she wouldn’t let me help with the money, I just made sure she never had to worry about my behavior.”
Elio considered that, falling quiet for a minute or two. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“If it’s too personal, you can tell me to butt out and mind my own business.”
She grinned. “You’ve seen me naked more than dressed the last couple of days. I’d say we’ve crossed a line as far as getting up close and personal.”
Elio brushed her argument away. “Sex is a different kind of personal,” he explained before asking what he wanted to know. “You were raised by your grandma.”
She nodded, even though that wasn’t the question.
“Where are your parents, Gee?”
“Oh,” Gianna said. “That’s not personal at all, really. I don’t know who my dad is. My mom got pregnant with me when she was still in high school. Sixteen. She was not the ideal child. My grandma was a single mother too, and, like I said, she worked two jobs, so she wasn’t home a lot. My mom’s one true talent was finding trouble, always running with a bad crowd. She’d been arrested for shoplifting three times before she was twelve. Anyway, one night, she got drunk and high at a party and the result was me. Grandma never told me who my father was, and I’m pretty sure it’s because my mom didn’t know.”
Elio put his fork down. “I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. “Oh my God, don’t be. You can’t miss something you never had. My mom told Grandma she was pregnant, and Grandma Mary put her foot down on my mom’s behavior. Told Mom no more drinking, drugs, parties…and I think for the first time in her life, my mom listened. Until I was born.”
Gianna hadn’t talked about this in years. In fact, she hadn’t told this story to very many people at all. Sam, Liza, and Keeley knew most of it.
And…that was it.
It wasn’t because she was embarrassed or ashamed. The truth was she hadn’t really had anyone else to tell.
“Let me guess,” Elio said. “She started doing drugs again.”
Gianna touched her nose with the tip of her finger. “You got it in one. Mom was one of those people who was her own worst enemy. She and Grandma never saw eye to eye, so if Grandma disapproved of something, Mom would go all in, just to spite her. I hated the way my mom acted, the way she constantly hurt Grandma. I was only young, but I could see how much Mom’s actions and words hurt.”
“Kids are very perceptive. I’ve seen it in my nephews. Billy is probably the most empathetic kid I’ve ever met. If someone is hurting, that kid can sniff it out and then he goes out of his way to make them feel better. Sounds like you were the same?”
Gianna lifted one shoulder. “I don’t know if I make things better. I definitely couldn’t help Grandma Mary when it came to Mom. I hated it when they fought, so I always hid in the closet in my bedroom until they stopped yelling. Usually, Mom would storm out and then Grandma would come find me, pull me out of the closet, and give me my favorite treat.”
“Favorite treat?”
Gianna hid her face with her hand briefly. “God, you’re going to think it’s weird, but I love soft butter on saltines. Real butter. It was one of the few things Grandma and I ever splurged on.”
Elio glanced toward the kitchen. “That actually sounds pretty good. And as always…”
“We only have half the ingredients. Butter, but no crackers.”
“Yeah. So your mom lived with you when you were younger?” Elio seemed determined to hear the whole story. Not that she minded. His interest in her was sincere, and she couldn’t recall the last time she’d had someone to talk to about herself, her life, her fears, hopes, and even her eccentricities.
“Grandma kicked her out more than a few times during the first five or six years of my life, but ultimately Mom would always come back, swearing that she was clean, that she wanted to turn over a new leaf. And Grandma would take her back.”
“That couldn’t have been easy for you,” Elio said, reaching across the table to take her hand.
“I never liked it when Mom was home,” she whispered. She’d never admitted that to another living soul, feeling guilty for feeling that way.
“What was your mom like?”
“She never had much time for me, and zero patience. She was a chain smoker, something Grandma would never allow in the apartment, so she spent most of the day sitting on a plastic chair on our tiny balcony, with an overflowing ashtray next to her. She’d leave the sliding door cracked, so the house always stunk when she was there. That’s what I remember the most. The smell. I hated it.
“The last falling out she and Grandma had was when I was seven. Mom came home strung out on heroin. She’d been so wasted, she dropped all her shit by the door and passed out on the couch. I got up before Grandma. All the stuff in Mom’s purse had spilled out, and her drugs were there. I picked up a needle—”
“Jesus,” Elio murmured, gripping her hand more tightly.
“That was when Grandma Mary walked in. She saw what I was holding and freaked the fuck out. She knocked it out of my hand. Asked if I’d poked myself. I said no. I told her I knew the needle was bad. I don’t know why I picked it up. I was just…curious.”
“Christ,” Elio said hotly. “You could have been hurt.”
“Grandma woke my mom and kicked her out. Told her to not bother coming back.”
“Did she try to come back?”
Gianna shook her head. This was the part she hated saying out loud because it was too hard to think about. Yet tonight, sitting in this peaceful cabin, in the soft lighting, with such an attentive, compassionate friend, the words came easily.
“No. When I was nine, I came home from school. Usually Mrs. Pasquet, the older woman who lived across the hall, took care of me until Grandma came home from work, but that day, Grandma was there. She sat me down on the couch and told me that Mom had died. I asked if it was because of the drugs and Grandma Mary said yes. I know she expected me to cry, and I even tried, Elio…but I couldn’t.”
He frowned. “I think it makes sense that you wouldn’t cry. It sounds like you hardly knew your mother, and it wasn’t like she was the one taking care of you. Your grandma was.”
“I know that. I do. But I’ve never cried for her. Not once. In my whole life. When Grandma said my mom had died, all I could think was…that wasn’t true, she hadn’t died. Because Grandma Mary was my mom. She’d been the one to take care of me, read me stories, give me baths. Grandma wasn’t exactly a warm and fuzzy person, and I’m pretty sure the word strict was invented to describe her—she was bound and determined I wasn’t going to turn out like my mom. She never said it, but I know she blamed herself for Mom getting hooked on the drugs, certain that if she’d been home more, Mom wouldn’t have strayed so far. It’s why she took me with her to clean the apartments on the weekends.”
“Gianna,” Elio said, with something that sounded too close to pity. Which meant she was giving him the wrong idea.
“I never questioned her love for me,” she hastened to add. “Even if she never said it.”
“She never said it?”
Gianna wasn’t surprised by Elio’s shock. His family was the very definition of affection, with their constant hugs and double-cheek kisses. She’d heard his nonna tell every single one of her grandkids on Christmas Eve how much she loved them. “Grandma Mary told me she loved me twice.”
“Twice,” Elio repeated, shaking his head.
“The first time was after my high school graduation. She and my mom had both gotten pregnant when they were young and had dropped out. I remember walking off the stage with my diploma, sporting that godawful cap and gown, and going straight over to her. Grandma Mary had hugged me, really tight, like she didn’t want to let go, then she whispered in my ear, ‘I love you, darlin’.’ It took everything I had not to cry right then and there.”
“I bet that must have meant the world to you.”
“You have no idea.”
“Let’s move somewhere more comfortable. Finished?” he asked, reaching for her bowl.
She nodded, and he took her dish and his to the sink. He stopped her before she could start washing them. “Later,” he said. Then he added, “I promise,” knowing how much she hated leaving dirty dishes in the sink. It was funny how quickly Elio had picked up on her quirks. Yet he didn’t make fun of her—or get annoyed as Sam had—but instead accepted them.
He wrapped his arm around her waist and led her to the couch, sitting down next to her.
“You were lucky to have your grandma,” Elio said. She’d thought the conversation was over, but Elio apparently wanted to know more. “What happened to her?”
Gianna blinked a couple of times, willing herself not to cry. “She died a few months after I graduated from college. I moved back in with her because we knew about the cancer at that point, and I wanted to be close to take care of her.”
“That couldn’t have been easy. You were still so young.”
“Twenty-one. I was sitting with her the night she died. Hospice had been called in, and they were giving her morphine, so she wasn’t suffering. She’d been out of it as a result, sleeping most of the time, her eyes unfocused, her mind distant when she was awake. One of the nurses said that sometimes a dying person needs reassurance that it’s okay to go. So that last night, I held her hand, and I told her that I’d be okay. She opened her eyes and looked at me. Really looked at me. She said, ‘I love you,’ and…that was it. She passed away before I could say the words back.”
She swiped away the tears, shaking her head. “God. I’m so sorry.”
“Shit, Gianna,” Elio said, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her close. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
She tried to pull away, intent on going to the bathroom for a tissue, but he held her tighter against his chest.
“Stay there,” he demanded. “You gotta give me a minute, or else my stud status will be blown when you see what a blubbering mess I am right now.”
Gianna laughed through her tears, then clung to him, taking the time he was giving her to pull herself together.
When she felt his arms slacken, she lifted her head and realized he hadn’t been lying about his own emotions.
He kept one arm around her shoulder, the two of them nestling close, watching the fire.
“After Grandma died, I decided I was going to have a big family,” she said, breaking the peacefulness of the moment.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. I love listening to the way you and Liza talk about your childhood, and Christmas Eve was…God, I never knew a holiday could be like that. It was loud and crazy and fun and there was just…so much love. I want that for my kids. You know, maybe I’ll have as many kids as your parents had. Four sounds pretty perfect to me.”
“Four, huh? That might be culture shock considering your only-child status.”
“That’s exactly why I’m having four. When Grandma died, I wasn’t completely alone because I had Sam. He moved in almost immediately and…he became my family. When he left, I lost more than my boyfriend and my best friend. I lost…” She swallowed heavily.
“Your family.”
“I’m not doing that to my kids. They’re always going to have lots and lots of family. A houseful of siblings, so they’ll never be alone.”
Elio leaned closer, placing his lips against hers. “You’re incredible, Gianna.”
Every time he said something like that, Gianna felt the heaviness that had been pressing down on her since Sam left lift a little more.
No, she decided. That heaviness had been there longer than the past few months. It had been there for years, weighing her down until the load felt normal.
Elio broke the kiss, standing, then reaching down for her. She took his hand, following him to the bed. He slowly undressed her, kissing every bit of skin as he exposed it. She did the same, stripping him, exploring, stroking, caressing all the beautiful parts of the man.
He was extremely handsome, but a few days ago, she would have used that word to describe him based on what she could see. His chestnut-colored hair that was long on top, so it fell over his forehead and brows in such a way that she constantly longed to run her fingers through it. His light brown eyes, strong jaw, the crook in his nose that told her he’d broken it a time or two, the cleft in his chin, his chiseled chest, muscular arms and thighs—all of it put together made him one of the most gorgeous men she’d ever seen.
But now, she knew that when she thought of him as beautiful, it had nothing to do with the way he looked on the outside.
He was beautiful because of who he was on the inside, and how he made her feel.
Once they were naked, Elio pulled back the covers, neither of them breaking the union of their lips. He pressed her down on her back, coming over her, kissing her for countless minutes.
“Please,” she whispered, overwhelmed with the need to have him inside her.
Elio’s gaze locked with hers, as he drew on a condom, placed his cock at her opening, and slid inside. Even as he began to thrust, he looked deep into her eyes, and she let him see every emotion, every feeling. Everything.
She lifted her legs, wrapping them around his waist, locking her ankles at his lower back. The shift allowed him to go deeper, and they groaned in unison.
