Page 51 of Little Bird (Advantage Play 3)

“Bull crap. You can’t storm in here pissed at me for no reason. You can’t make me feel like shit for wearing a freaking T-shirt in my own home. You can’t give me that cold look that reminds me of our nights together when I wasn’t sure if I’d make it out alive or not. You can’t—” A sob escapes me, cutting off my stupid chastising as I bury my face into his chest.

Whoa…emotions.

“Shh….”

I feel his chest rumble beneath my cheek, but it doesn’t stop the tears from falling.

“Where have you been?” I choke out now that the dam has finally broken. “Why didn’t you come see me? Did I really mean that little to you? Why didn’t—”

“Hell no, Little Bird. Don’t assume shit with me, okay? I’m begging you.”

“What else can I assume?” I cry, my entire body shaking like a leaf in the wind. I feel like I’m going to blow away. That I’m going to crumble beneath the pressure from someone’s boot as soon as I hit the ground. But the tree that’d been protecting me has let me go, despite my desperation to cling to it, and my descent is inevitable.

“Shh…,” he breathes, wrapping his arms around my lower back and pressing our fronts together. His fingers tangle in my hair, tugging at the roots as they massage my scalp in slow, deliberate circles.

It feels amazing, but I need answers more than I need his touch.

“Answer me,” I grit out, hating how weak I sound. I’ve never been weak. I’m the pain in the ass little sister to Kingston Romano. I’m the princess of a freaking mafia family. I’m the get-shit-done, go-in-guns-blazing kind of girl. But all of that seems to be stripped bare as I stand in front of a man who owns every piece of me.

And doesn’t seem to care in the slightest.

When he’s still silent, I repeat, “I said, answer me.”

“I love you, Little Bird.”

My chest tightens, and my fingers dig into his rumpled white shirt in an attempt to keep him from leaving me again.

“Then why are you letting my brother keep us apart?”

“I’m not,” he argues, tightening his hold. His chin brushes against the top of my head as I feel him shake his head back and forth. “I’m not, okay? But your brother’s right. You’re too good for me, Regina. I’m no one. I’m nothing. I need to make my place here so that I can earn a right to call you mine. Right now, I don’t deserve to wipe the shit off your shoes. Especially after what I put you through.”

“How can you say that?” My voice cracks again, and I hate how desperate I sound.

“Do you know what I did today?” he asks, practically giving me whiplash from his abrupt subject change. “I killed a guy. I killed a guy who had a ten-year-old kid.”

When the age dawns on me, I want to cry. “The same age you were….”

“Yeah. The same age I was when my entire world got ripped apart, and look what I just did? I gave the kid the same future as the one that was mapped out for me. These hands?” He drops them from my waist and steps away from me. “They ruined a kid’s life today. How the hell do you think they deserve holding you after what they’ve done? Do you know how many other people I have to hunt down because of the mess with Burlone, and how it might look with Kingston being the only boss to walk away? It’s a lot, Regina. But, I never cared before. I never gave a shit about any of them because I knew I only had to think about myself and my selfish ass. But now, there’s you. The sweet, sexy-as-hell girl who’s so far out of my league that I’m left scrambling because I want you with every fiber of my being, but you’ll always be just out of reach.”

The distance nearly breaks me, leaving me no choice but to rush forward and tangle our fingers together.

“What have I told you about these hands?” I cry. “They were made for me. They were made to hold me. To protect me. To care for me. Without them, I don’t even know what to eat anymore. Why can’t you see that?” Dragging my quivering lips against his busted-up knuckles, I press open-mouthed kisses to each of them.

“Please,” I whisper. “Don’t let my brother define my future. Let me choose my own path. Let me choose you.” Keeping his hands pressed against my lips, I squeeze my eyes shut. The tears stream down my cheeks and drip onto his closed fists. But it’s his presence that seems to calm my frantic soul. His ever-sturdy frame as it towers over me. Making me feel small. But precious. His lips caress my forehead in a soft kiss that turns my insides into Jell-O.

“Come here, Little Bird.”

I’m not sure I can get much closer, but I inch forward until the leather of his loafers tickles my bare toes.

“Look at me,” he orders.

I shake my head. I can’t right now. Not when I’ve bared my soul to him without knowing how he’ll respond.

“I said, look at me, Little Bird.” The commanding tone leaves me no choice but to pull my lids open. Resting my chin against our tangled fingers, I look up at him to find him staring down at me. The room is dark, having lost the only light from the refrigerator after I slammed it shut, but I can still see the shadow of the man I love shrouded in darkness. It’s fitting and reminds me of our nights together in that cold, dank basement with only a single bulb hanging from a wire as our source of light. With my recent history, I should probably be terrified and suffer a mental breakdown from the flashback. But I’m not scared when he’s around. I just wish he could see what I do when I look at him.

“I will never be good enough for you, regardless of what your brother thinks, or approves of.”

“And I will never care about what you do when you’re away from me as long as you always come back and stop punishing yourself for the shit you have to do,” I counter.

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