Page 14 of In My Blood
Tears filled my eyes again as I remembered what I had allowed him to have from me just to pay for the pills I didn’t even need now my Mum was gone. The fights, the failures, the fear, and the loneliness. God, the fucking loneliness had almost killed me after being ripped away from Rafe, Gia, our Nanny – Louise, and our housekeeper – Terza, all of whom had shown me so much love and spoiled me and my sister rotten. Growing up my homelife hadn’t been perfect. Neither of my parents wanted to know me, and we saw things no child should ever see in thehouse we grew up in, but the people who loved me made it all worth it. I never went to bed afraid or hungry. If I were upset, or shaken, my brother, or Louise would always be there to hold me and make it better. I was surrounded by love, then that was torn from me. I was thrown into an existence so lonely I actually considered being Justin’s girlfriend just so I wouldn’t always be alone any longer. That was what my life had become. How could that be worth holding onto all of this misery for?
“Where is she?” A deep voice rumbled, startling me from my thoughts, and I knew it was him. Rafe. His accent was still as stiff and posh as it had always been, but his voice was deeper and he sounded angry. I wasn’t sure I had ever heard him angry.
My time was up. He was there, right on the other side of the wall from me and I had no time left if I wanted to try and flee and save my life. Now all I could do was face my brother for the first time in so many years and see for myself if he had lied to me on the phone call.
My whole body tensed even more as I heard heavy footsteps outside. I pressed my head even tighter against my knees, pulling my arms tightly over it as I made myself as small as possible. The door of the bedroom snicked open and I knew I should scream and fight to keep Rafe away from me, just as I had kept Kyle away, but a part of me didn’t want to. Even if Rafe were like Marcello now, and he just wanted me dead, at least I’d get to see him one last time before it was all over. I had missed him so much.
“Cara?” His voice was definitely a little deeper than I remembered it, but there was no forgetting the way he said my name with that slight Italian accent to it that my father always used, though my Dad only ever hissed or spat my name in rage.He never said it the way Rafe did – in a way that made me feel thrilled that he was near. “It’s Rafe,Tesorino. I’m going to open the wardrobe, okay?” he asked gently.
Tears filled my eyes and ran silently down my sore, stinging cheeks. In all of the chaos of my fog and confusion filled mind I felt both elated to know he was close after all of this time, and terrified to see his face and know my Mum had been right about him all along.
Colder air rushed in when he opened one of the small, beaten wood doors. I didn’t dare move, and if I could have, I would have held my breath too, but it had become too hard to breathe for me to do that. My gasps were frantic and desperate as I fought to get air into my too tight chest.
The sweater was lifted carefully from over me and all of the chilly air hit me at once. I didn’t think it would be possible, but my body started to shake even harder and that just increased my fear. A squeak slipped from me as a large hand landed on my shoulder and just rested there.
“Sweetheart, can you look at me?” Rafe whispered. He was so close to me that I could very faintly smell his aftershave, and I knew it was the same scent he used to wear when I was a child. I hadn’t thought about the way he smelled for years, but now he was so close it was all so familiar, and memories of me curled up in his lap on my bed as he read stories to me flashed through my mind. He’d only been a kid himself back then, but he had been the only parent I ever needed. I never felt like I was missing anything when he was around.
“I’m sc-scared,” I uttered.
“I would never hurt you, Cara. I know Mum probably said a lot of things to you, but none of it was true. I’m not like dad. I never would be. I’ve missed you so much,” he told me as he kept his hand steady on my shoulder. It felt so warm against my frozen body.
“Y…you br-oke your pr-promise,” I stuttered shakily.
“I know and I’m so sorry for that. I tried so hard, Cara….tried to find you and bring you home but you…you just disappeared. I never stopped searching though, I swear. Getting you home with me and Gia is all that I have thought about since the day I had to put you on that plane.”
I knew it made sense. My Mum had run away and gotten our crappy fake identities fast from her first creep of a boyfriend. From there we’d never stopped moving or changing our names. I’d gone along with it because I’d been terrified my Mum was right, and that living that way was our only chance of survival.
I lifted my head just enough to see through a small gap between my arms, which I still used to protect my head. I could see Rafe right before me on his knees. He was wearing black trousers and a white button up shirt. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and I saw tattoos on his arms that had never been there before. His hair was shorter, and there were a few lines on his stubbled face that made him look older, but he was still the same really. His hair was a rich, deep, dark brown, just like mine, and he had it pushed back and styled there somehow. His eyes were watching me intensely, but all I saw in them was concern. They were as deep brown in colour as his hair, again, just like my own. He was still as slim and in shape as I always remembered him being, and I could see the bone structure in his face that I knew made for the best smile when he laughed and was happy. Thatwas what I had remembered the most since I left him – happy times, when he smiled and laughed with me and Gia.
“There you are,Gioia,” he whispered as he leaned in and lowered his head so he could meet my eyes. I remembered the Italian word he used. He used to call me that when I was younger. It meant ‘joy’ he had told me when I asked at a young age. He told me I would always be his joy and his happiness, and then explained to me what the word ‘joy’ meant.
“Who?” I whispered as I kept my eyes locked on his.
“What do you mean?” Rafe questioned.
“Mum. Who did th-that…k-killed her and….and did that?” I gasped.
“I don’t know right now, sweetheart. Like I told you before, Dad is dead and has been for a long time. I don’t know who would have come after Mum like that, but I will find out, and I will keep you safe from now on,” he promised, and his words felt and sounded so honest. I desperately wanted to believe him and fall into his arms so he would hold me, but I held back, being cautious.
“Gia?” I whispered.
“She’s safe. She’s at home with people I trust,” he assured me.
“People?” I questioned. “You….you m-mean mafia, right? Are you in th-the mafia, Rafe? Dad?”
Rafe sighed deeply and looked up above him. I followed his eye line and jumped when I saw a man stood off to the side slightly. He was tall and muscular, his shoulders wide and his stance intimidating. I cowered back again, only to realise I couldn’twhen my already painful back and shoulder smashed hard into the wall.
“Steady, Cara. It’s okay. It’s Dio. You know Dio,” Rafe tried to soothe me. He went to put his hand back on my shoulder, but I moved violently away from him this time. I didn’t want to be touched.
“Hey,Piccola,” Dio said, and when I lifted my head again, Dio was crouched down beside Rafe, both of them watching me closely.
It was him, I realised quickly. He was a lot bulkier and more muscular than the last time I saw him, but his too long, chestnut brown hair, and eyes as blue as a summer sky were just as I remembered. He smiled softly and I was instantly soothed by it. Dio, as I had called him for as long as I could remember, had been almost as much my brother as Rafe when I was growing up. He had looked out for Gia and me when we were little, and he was always Rafe’s closest friend. It seemed that hadn’t changed at least.
I looked back to Rafe and just watched him, waiting for the answer to my earlier question. I needed the truth. I needed to know what I was going back to, and what my little sister, who was still only sixteen, was wrapped up in.
“We’re not Mafia, Cara,” Rafe sighed. “We were once, then Dad changed things so the police weren’t constantly on his back.”
“But he…he was bad, right? A…a criminal? He did b-bad things.”
