I move towards the balcony and stare off into the distance as my mind races. The last conversation I had with her begins playing out in my head, like the reality of what I just heard wasn’t enough to fuck me over.
“I’m not perfect, but I did the best I could.”
“Enough. I’m sick of your lies … I’m sick to fucking death of you and your bullshit. It all stops right now. I want nothing more to do with you.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I should’ve cut you loose years ago. Like Lucia said, you’re a waste of fucking air. You just condemned the only woman I’ve ever loved. If they so much as touch her, if one fucking hair on her head is out of place when I find her, I’m coming for you. And when I do, you’ll wish you left me to rot in that hospital the day I was born.”
And now she’s gone.
I told her I wanted nothing more to do with her, and she believed me. I told her Lucia was the only woman I’d ever loved, but that wasn’t true. In my own fucked-up kind of way, I loved her too.
A part of me always loved her, even when I couldn’t stand her.
Maybe I didn’t pull the trigger, but I sure as hell gave her the bullets.
“Fuck,” I grunt, bending to place my hands on my knees as I struggle to get air in my lungs.
Her overdosing has been one of my greatest fears since I was a kid. Deep down, I always knew it was a possibility, and some part of me expected it would happen eventually. But I never anticipated playing a hand in it.
Thatmywords would be the last ones she carried with her.
ThatI’dbe part of the reason she finally gave up.
And now it’s too late to take any of it back.
I flinch when I feel a hand on my back. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry, mate.”
I let the breath rush out of my lungs and push myself up to full height, trying to pull it together.
I don’t like showing anyone my weaknesses.
Not even my best friend.
“I’m not sure what you want done with her body, but I had it transferred to the morgue … you know, in case you wanted to bury her or some shit.”
I turn my head and meet his eyes. “You did?”
I’m surprised she didn’t end up in a shallow grave or worse. That’s the usual modus operandi when the mob disposes of a body.
He lifts one shoulder. “For all her faults, she was still your mother. I just wanted the decision to be yours. If you don’t care what happens to her, I’ll take?—”
“I’ll take care of it,” I say, cutting him off.
As soon as we finish dinner, we leave. Lucia didn’t argue. I think she could tell something was off. I tried to actnormal, but my brain wouldn’t shut down. All I could think about was my mother lying somewhere on a slab of cold steel.
A part of me feels relieved. She’s finally at peace. I don’t have to worry anymore about where she is, what she’s doing, or whether she’s alive. But what’s fucking me up the most is the last words I said to her.
Maybe she deserved them. Maybe she didn’t. Either way, the guilt is clawing at my insides. It’s this slow, suffocating burn I can’t shake, like something inside me is rotting.
“What’s going on?” Lucia asks the moment we slip into the back seat of the limousine. “Did Dante say something to upset you? Did he threaten you in any way? Because if he did?—”
I reach for her hand and clutch it in mine. She’s like a fiery little bulldog, and I love how protective she is of me.
“My mum overdosed,” I tell her as I lean my head back against the seat. “She didn’t survive this one.”
She bows her head. “Oh.”