Page 134 of Green Flag
I watched my phone like a hawk over the Christmas break.
Alessia, my sister, sat opposite me on the floor as we were playing scopone, eyeing my cards. We’d played this since we were little and we knew each other’s tells. So I went against my normal reactions and narrowed my eyes at her, clutching the cards to my chest.
My teammate was Gio, who had been trying to get me alone all day, no doubt to ask about the PI. Scopone was a good distraction for him — he was always invested in the game. His teammate used to be Alv, his brother.
I had to prove myself, so I rolled up the sleeves of the ugly Christmas jumper Everly bought me. Ready for battle on my Nonna’s living room floor.
Only to see I had some very high cards. Shit.
Gio started off strong with a 3 of cups. I needed something lower to help him win this round, just as Nonna started asking questions.
My work was not mentioned. Alv had been, but the accident and the legal proceedings hadn’t.
Until Nonna stopped stroking my cousin’s hair at the foot of her chair and said with a gleeful smile, “I heard you have a girlfriend, Luca.”
Alessia snorted, placing her card down and I was so taken aback by her questioning, that I didn’t even note what card it was before Uncle Stevano placed his on top.
“Don’t.” Mamma shook her head with a tsk.
“Who is she?” Nonna asked, shuffling further down her chair to get closer to me, ignoring her daughter.
“Her name is Everly, Nonna,” I told her, feigning focus on the cards. “I work with her.” And she’s not my girlfriend.
“Ever-ly,” Nonna sounded out with a frown. “Like the bike Alv used to own.”
I nodded as tension filled the room. Gio glared at me as my attention had wavered and I placed down my card. He sighed and rolled his eyes.
Normally, I loved having any opportunity to talk about her. I could go on for days about the small things: her little shoulder wiggle when she was excited, how music consumed her whole being, the way her laugh weakened my knees, her resilience and strength, how her lyrics resonated so deeply within me.
Alone, I expected to think about her beautiful, blushing face as she’d opened her mouth and let me see my cum on her tongue. But it wasn’t my main focus. The visual that was embedded deep within my brain was her ecstatic, tender expression as she’d looked up at me with pride after I’d won and the panic that had swelled so deep in my gut when I saw her cut lip.
“What does she do at StormSprint?”
I breathed in deeply before turning to her with a polite smile. To stop short. She looked so vulnerable before me — she’d aged in the last year; her hair had greyed even further and her wrinkles had deepened around her eyes. The accident had impacted us all.
“She’s one of the grid girls,” I told her. “But she’s a singer too.”
Mamma huffed.
“What’s her full name?” Nonna asked. “Maybe I’ve heard some of her songs.”
Even Alessia glared at me, silently ordering me not to answer. No one was playing scopone anymore. My cousin scooted away from Nonna’s feet.
“I doubt you would have,” I said. “She’s a country artist.”
“I want to hear her songs,” Nonna pressed, eyes sliding over her family’s reactions. Her smile was dampening, her wrinkles deepening as her face fell. “What’s her name?” she asked, more urgently this time.
“Everly Bacque,” I admitted.
Her expression shifted slightly.
“Hisdaughter?” she asked, voice still calm.
I nodded.
Her back straightened and she blinked into the crowded room of our relatives. “You’re with the daughter of the man who killed my grandson?”
Well, damn, when you put it likethat.
