Page 10 of Cold

"Will do."

We hung up and I moved over to the coffee maker. If I was going to get through this day, I would need a hell of a lot of caffeine.

As I moved around, I kept thinking about Ama's words. The fact that he roped me into the category of fucked up just like that made my blood boil. I stared into the pan and ignored the grease that popped out of it.

None of them know me. Not really. The only person that did was Vincenzo.

My brother had roped me into a lifetime of misery and work. But he had seen beneath every facade I ever put up. And he'd let me live when he should have put a bullet in my brain.

"Um, Vito?"

I turned to see Romare hanging onto the doorframe. He peered around it, big gray eyes peering at me as he clutched that stuffed cat in his hand. One creamy, slender leg was in view. He was swallowed in my shirt.

"What?" I asked.

"Sorry, I'll go back to my room," he said as he shrunk away.

Amadeo needs this.

Not only was he right, but I could see that Romare was mistreated when he was with Sergei. The bruises, the way he spoke, the way he acted; it showed a truth of deep abuse and psychological scars.

But when I'd brought up Sergei the night before, he'd been adamant that he hadn't been abandoned. And that sent alarm bells ringing in my head. Why would he care if the man had left him to his own devices after everything that he'd gone through? Wouldn't he want to be free?

"Come in here," I called to him and forced myself to soften my voice. "Breakfast is almost done. Do you drink coffee?"

Romare stared at me before he shook his head. "No thank you. I have, but I don't like it."

I nodded. "Sit down."

Romare scrambled to a seat. I noticed that all of his movements were fast and clumsy, as if he was used to running around. He sat on his chair and held onto his stuffed animal while I went about plating up the food. I poured myself a hot cup of coffee, black, and for him I found a container of orange juice in the fridge.

"I can help," Romare said. "You don't have to carry all that stuff by yourself!"

"No," I said when he tried to get up. "Stay there and wait."

I turned back to the stove and got moving. Romare needed someone to treat him gently, to break down his walls. It was exactly what I had needed once upon a time. And what I had never gotten. So, I could pretend. I could fake it.

"Someone is coming to measure you for clothes," I said as I placed the food on the table. "He'll be here once we're done with breakfast. Eat and then shower."

"Okay," he whispered, looking down at the table.

I sat down and stared at him. Once again, Romare picked at his food until I cleared my throat and glared at him. As soon as I did, he picked up his fork and tore into it. I noted the smile that tugged at his lips as he devoured his meal.

He's starving.

This meal wasn't as tense as the one from the night before. I watched him carefully, but he didn't pay attention to me at all. All of him was focused on his plate and gorging himself on food.

What the fuck?

I realized I'd started to smile as I looked at him. There was an innocence that surrounded Romare, but it was cloaked in something else. Who are you? His gray gaze flickered up to me and I didn't turn away.

"Sorry," he muttered as he straightened up. "Was I...supposed to be doing something? I forget sometimes," he said as his hand reached up and tugged at his bottom lip hard. "Am I in trouble?"

My chest tightened. I reached out and pulled his fingers away from his reddened lip. Had he been tugging on it all night?

"Eat," I told him.

"Y-yes."

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