Page 102 of The Woman on the Jury

I could see a young Cosimo at the hands of an overbearing, cruel father, someone who thought a man in the mafia couldn’t have emotions, couldn’t be kind. So he’d worked on beating Cosimo down, then rebuilding him into the image he wanted him to become.

The thing was, he hadn’t succeeded.

Not really.

Because therewaskindness in Cosimo.

I’d seen little signs of it since I’d first officially met him.

And if he was willing to try to show me more of that, to fight against the coldness of his upbringing, the abuse of his father, that said something, didn’t it?

Because the Cosimo I knew didn’t seem to give a damn what others thought, or cared how he’d affected them.

But he cared about those things with me.

He wanted to work on those things for me.

I couldn’t ask for more than that.

All he could do was try.

And all I could do was let him.

“I’ll probably still be a dick sometimes,” he admitted.

I felt my lips twitch at that.

“I think it would require a lobotomy to change that,” I said, getting a little chuckle out of him. “I don’t care if you’re a dick,” I said. “I care that you’re not a dick to me.”

“That’s fair.”

“And there’ve been times when you haven’t been,” I admitted. “Which is probably the only reason things… have happened at all. But I don’t like being left feeling used. That’s never going to be okay with me,” I told him, feeling those stupid tears sting my eyes again.

“Used?” he asked, brows pinched, like maybe he hadn’t even considered that before. “Because I left,” he concluded.

“Yeah.”

“I left because I was, I don’t know, feeling something that freaked the fuck out of me,” he told me. “And I felt like I had to get the hell away from it.”

“From me,” I clarified.

“No. From what I was feeling toward you. It’s different.”

“It doesn’tfeeldifferent.”

“I’m starting to see that,” he agreed, nodding. “I said I want to try, Halle. But I’m gonna need you to talk to me, to call me out, not hide away.”

That was fair.

It was childish to hide away.

Adults communicated. They swallowed back their insecurities and vulnerabilities and discussed their problems.

“I can do that,” I said, nodding.

“Yeah?” he asked, using his hand on my neck to pull me closer, our chests brushing, and I swear my insides melted just at that.

“Yes,” I said. “And you’re probably going to regret demanding I call you out,” I warned, watching his eyes warm as he smiled.

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