Page 7 of Thief of my Heart

Not exactly a fairy-tale ending.

Me, I’d never been in love. And if that was what love meant—something that literally killed people—I wanted no part of it.

I was eighteen, five months from graduating high school and hopefully following my brother to college next year. I needed a broken heart to interrupt my plans like I needed a hole in my head.

But that didn’t mean I wasn’t interested in a little fun. I wouldn’t mind someone looking at me the way Nonno looked at his wife whenever she walked into the room. Or someone taking my hand and kissing it, like he still did hers after all these years.

No, I wouldn’t mind a little sweetness here and there so long as I didn’t have to give my heart away to get it.

“Need any more help?” I asked after toweling dry the pan and putting it away. The rest of the dishes were dry and put away already, and Nonna was almost finished with the stove.

She set down the polishing cloth and clasped my face to hers for a moment before shaking her head.

“You’re a good girl,” she told me, her thick Roman accent curving around the words. “My good girl. Always here to help. No, I can finish.”

“Angie and Linda are up in your room with Kate,” Frankie called from the table. “For your study session.”

I whirled around. “You didn’t think to tell me that when I got home?”

Frankie gave me a smirk, as if to say “you deserved it” for leaving her with the littles.

Brat.

Flipping my hair over my shoulder, I exited the kitchen and dashed up the creaky stairs to Kate’s and my bedroom. It was across from the other bedroom that Frankie, Marie, and Joni all shared. Nonno and Nonna were on the bottom floor under the stairs, and Matthew was in the attic—until he moved out, at least. And then I was calling dibs.

That’s right. Six kids. Two grandparents. One little house.

Cramped, maybe. But still home.

I found Kate sitting cross-legged on her bed while my best friends, Angelica Fernandez and Linda Esposito, gossiped and arranged study materials across my faded daisy-covered bedspread.

“Finally!” Angie exclaimed. “We’ve been waiting like a million years.”

“More like ten minutes,” Linda revised dryly as she flipped through the scholarship packet we’d gotten from the Belmont Prep college counselor.

“Sorry about that. I was helping Nonna in the kitchen.” I plopped onto the chair at the little white desk Kate and I shared.

“It’s fine,” Linda replied. “Kate’s been giving us the lowdown about the new mechanic your nonno hired.”

I frowned at Kate, who gave a shrug before collapsing back onto her pillows. “They asked where you were,” she explained while toying with her sketchbook.

“A sexy ex-con mechanic,” Angie added. “Mike Scarrone. Yo, you are so lucky. Total. Freaking. Hottie. That boy is so fine.”

I peered at her curiously. “How do you know that?”

“The hot part or the criminal part?” Kate wondered to herself, then shoved her glasses up her nose and went back to sketching when I sent her a look.

“Baby, everyone knows that Mike Scarrone is out and that Father Deflorio set him up with your nonno,” Angie rattled on as if Kate hadn’t spoken. “It was all anyone could talk about at dance team practice today.”

I frowned. “Why would the dance team at Belmont Prep be interested in a mechanic? He’s probably, like, ten years older than us.”

Linda snorted. “Try three.”

I balked. “Three?”

For some reason, I’d thought Michael was a lot older than twenty-one. There was a weariness in his eyes that generally came with age and experience. I wondered what had put it there. Then shuddered and decided I didn’t want to know.

“Girl, where’ve you been?” Angie demanded. “Mike Scarrone. Gina’s ex-boyfriend?”

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