Page 66 of Of Grief And Gratitude

My father shouting at me when I was a child. My mother hugging me as I cried because I didn’t understand why the man who was supposed to love me despised me instead. The bruises my mother tried to hide. The tears that stained her cheeks every time my father broke her down. Explosions. Blood. Mamma terrified, helplessly running for her life as the fire closed in on her. Her body disappearing into the flames. Death-glazed eyes staring at me, accusing me.

I still smelled the smoke, too. It was as if it had permanently charred my senses, leaving its acrid stench ingrained in my brain. Rain always soaked everything in my dreams, torrential downpours washing rivers of blood down the street drains.

Metal and smoke pulled me from another nightmare, and I lifted my head enough to lean over the toilet and heave until nothing was left. I dropped back to the floor, unconsciousness pulling me under to repeat the hellacious cycle.

Pain lanced through my side, and I groaned, instinctively curling in on myself. More pain in my legs. Bright light nearly blinded me as my eyes slit open, seeing black… boots?

“Get the fuck off the floor, asshole.” Cosimo kicked me again.

“Cut that shit out,” Dante scolded. Fuck, another one of them? “He’s probably already destroyed his liver. Don’t take the kidney, too.”

When I rolled over, my brothers yelled incoherently. I covered my ears as my head throbbed; the noise vibrating through my skull like the bone would shatter from the pressure.

“For fuck’s sake, I don’t need to see that again.” Cosimo shielded his eyes. “The bowtie is still branded into my brain.”

“Bowtie?” Dante asked, leaning against the wall, impeccably attired in his signature black suit.

“Trust me, you don’t want to know,” Cosimo replied, stepping over me, turning the shower on, and wiping the water from his hand on his ripped black jeans.

Another figure in a dark suit filled the frame of the bathroom door. “What did I miss?”

Not Niccolò, too. Fuck.

“Fine, you asked for it,” Cosimo said gruffly. “Baby brother there wrapped his dick up like a fucking Chippendale dancer for one of his videos. Said the women like cocks in costume.”

Niccolò shrugged. “I believe it. People are into all kinds of shit.”

Cosimo’s boot entered my field of vision, and I punched him in the calf as he drew his foot back. “I swear if you kick me again, I’ll fucking take you out.”

“Yeah, right.” He bent with laughter that crackled like it had been a while since he’d expressed humor. “I’d like to see you try. You’re more likely to kill yourself trying.”

Dante looked up at the ceiling. “Get up, Romeo.”

“How about you all get the fuck out of my bathroom?” I countered, swiping a hand down my face. “Then out of my damn apartment.”

“No.” Dante was so sure of his authority. “We’re going to breakfast.”

“The fuck I am,” I spat, pushing myself to a sitting position, keeping my legs closed in case Cosimo got the itch to cause more serious damage with those damn steel-toed boots. “What time is it?”

“Just past eight,” Dante answered, glancing down at his phone before lifting a brow at me and lifting his chin. “Get in the shower.”

I shook my head, regretting the motion immediately when my stomach threatened to rebel again.

Niccolò took a step forward and examined me more closely. “Fuck, look how white he is.”

“If you toss your cookies on my boots, I’ll make sure the ladies will never have a repeat performance with the bowtie.” Impatient, Cosimo hauled me to my feet and gave me a light shove toward the shower. “Hurry up. I’m not washing your ass for you.”

I stumbled into the shower stall, jumping back when the spray scalded my cold skin. If I wasn’t awake before, I was now. “Shit, Cos, are you trying to boil me alive?”

“Stop being a whiny little bitch. That’s a normal temperature.”

“Yeah, if you’re a soulless, unfeeling bastard.” I turned the shower handle until the water was a reasonable temperature.

Cosimo scoffed. “Not a bastard. DNA confirmed at our father’s demand.”

“Shit, really?” I hadn’t heard that one before. He hadn’t bothered to confirm our biological relationship.

“Unfortunately,” Niccolò mumbled.

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