Page 47 of Thief of my Heart

“But there’s three more of you,” I prompted. “So, they must have gotten back together.”

She offered a sad smile. “They did. Mami actually got sober for a while. I remember when we moved back in with her. She was so happy to have us, and it felt so good to be with her again.” She blinked wistfully. “Daddy was happy too. I remember he was kissing her all the time back then.”

“How old were you?”

“Oh…maybe seven or eight? My sister Frankie was born pretty soon after. And then a few years after that, they had Marie and Joni.”

Another shadow crossed her face.

“Most kids would be happy with their parents back together,” I said, even though it was a lie. There were plenty of families that shouldn’t be together.

“They weren’t…great years,” she admitted. “We lived in an apartment maybe ten blocks from my grandparents. All us kids in one bedroom, the babies in the other with my parents. It was…chaotic.”

“Chaotic, how?” I asked, even though the familiarity was starting to prickle my skin. I knew exactly what it was like to spend a childhood on floors, couches, or shared beds. The idea of Lea having to go through that made me sick.

But somehow, I needed to know the rest. I needed to know all of any story she wanted to tell.

“They fought a lot,” she said, as she held her Coke between both of her hands, like the cold bottle would somehow warm them. “Mami started drinking again. Mattie says she had other addictions too, but I don’t know. I never saw any of that. But my dad started drinking again, too, maybe to be with her. So Matthew and I were in charge most of the time. Doing our best to keep things together.”

It was another puzzle piece that clicked in to place. I could imagine it all perfectly—a two-bedroom apartment crammed with kids, like too many others in the Bronx. Parents who had no business having them in the first place overwhelmed with responsibility that they passed off to their young children. I had never known Matt Zola that well—only that he was a smart kid, the girls liked him, and he got into fights a lot.

Now that I thought about it, he always seemed to carry the damn world on his shoulders. It made sense, knowing this story. Just like Lea’s pushy personality and opinionated sass made sense too. She’d been in charge her whole damn life, whether she wanted to be or not. In a fucked-up way, I realized she wouldn’t push so much if she didn’t care.

Which meant Lea Zola cared about me.

“Anyway, after Joni came, things got really bad,” she continued after another bite of her sandwich. “Mami couldn’t handle her and Marie at all. I think maybe they were accidents. Or maybe we all were.”

“I don’t think so.”

One black brow arched in that sly way I was starting to love. “Oh? And how would you know, Michael?”

I tipped my head. “Because you could never be an accident, Tess. Not when you’re so damn…”

She leaned closer with a dare in her eyes. “I’m what?”

I couldn’t help but stare at her lips. She sucked on them when she was thinking, making them even more swollen. Even more kissable.

“Perfect,” I murmured before I could help myself.

She flushed. And the fuck if I didn’t want to rip open her coat to see how far down that gorgeous pink went.

Fuck.

She was staring at my lips, and for a second, I thought she might kiss me again. Instead, she tore her gaze away and took the biggest bite of her sandwich she could manage.

“And now?” I finally asked. I wanted the story to be over so I could do…something. Kiss her. Hold her. Do something else that would take her mind out of this dark place and put a smile on her face like she deserved.

“Now my dad is dead,” she said bluntly. “And my mom is in jail for it.”

That made me do a double take. I didn’t realize the two things were connected. “She…”

“She didn’t murder him if that’s what you’re about to suggest.” Her voice was suddenly choked and defensive. Obviously, she’d heard that rumor a time or two.

I held up my hands. “Whoa, hey. I didn’t think she did.”

That was a lie, yeah, but I wasn’t going to tell her that.

Lea relaxed a bit, though her shoulders were still tense. “I—it was a really bad time. I wasn’t even thirteen when the police and a social worker came to our door. We were watching reruns of Who’s the Boss? I can still remember Tony Micelli saying, ‘Ay-oh! Oh-ay!’ like you just did, while the cop told us about how my parents had too much to drink, but my mom took the wheel anyway and killed my dad and the other driver and passenger in the accident. Orphaned her six kids for a joyride to Atlantic City.”

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