SALVAGE PRIDE

14

He came up with games for us to play and told stories better than anyone I’ve ever met. Even after Z stopped hanging out with us, Nevio and I were close. At least, as close as we could be, considering we went to different schools even before he left for boarding school our junior year. He and I are the same age while Zeno is three years older, but personality played a key role in our continued friendship rather than age. Being friends with Nevio was as easy as breathing.

The second our eyes meet, he flashes that trademark dimpled grin. “Look who’s here.” He holds out his arms to draw me in for a hug, which I readily accept.

“I’m so sorry about the circumstances, but it’s lovely to see you.”

He pulls back and studies my face as though I’m a ghost come back to life. “I can’t believe it’s you. And you’re every bit as beautiful as the last time I saw you, which was entirely too long ago.”

The girlish giggle that tumbles from my lips is foreign to me, but that’s what Nevio does to people. Women, especially. They flock to him by the dozens, or at least, they did in high school. I never could keep up with his latest interest. Knowing that side of him as well as I did kept me from developing any foolhardy attachments to him.

I wonder if he’s settled down now that we’re older. He’s not wearing a ring. Not that I’m interested—just … curious.

“Did you make it to the viewing?” I ask.

“No, I came straight here. I’m not sure why people want to look at the dead body of a loved one.

Seems morose to me. I choose to remember Dad without the smell of embalming fluids.”

“Ah, well, I guess I can understand that. Your family is all still over at the funeral home, though.”

“Perfect, I can get settled without any hassles. Zeno would prefer I wasn’t here at all, so it’ll be easier this way.”

“I thought I was the only one.” The snarky comment rolls off my tongue, but once it’s out, I realize what Nevio has implied and am curious what he means.

Nevio grins devilishly. “Oh, no. He outright asked me not to come last night. Trust me, you’re not alone.”

I’m a little shocked. I knew the two weren’t super close, but I didn’t realize it was so bad that Zeno would keep Nevio from his own father’s funeral. “That’s awful. You have every right to be here.” Not just the right, he should be welcomed home by his family. Is Zeno that jealous of his brother’s easy nature that he can’t stand to be civil even at their father’s funeral? The absurdity of it balls my hand into a fist tight enough to risk leaving crescent-shaped marks in my palm.

Nevio takes my hand in his and coaxes my fingers to open. “I don’t let him get to me, and you shouldn’t either. Let me run up and put my bag in my room, then we can visit.” He brings my hand to his lips, placing a tender kiss on my knuckles.

Butterflies tickle the inside of my chest, causing my breathing to stutter. “Yeah, you get comfortable. Then you can tell me what you’ve been up to lately.” “Be right back.” He winks, then strides swiftly up the stairs.

He’s only out of sight for a matter of seconds before the front door opens, and Elena De Rossi enters with Zeno towering behind her. Her eyes are glassy and tired, and her poor nose is red. I can’t imagine how hard it would be to lose a husband so suddenly. How heartbroken she must be.

“Elena, I’m so incredibly sorry.” I greet her with a hug, hoping she feels the sincerity in my condolences.

“Thank you, Luisa. It’s been quite the shock, but it’s lovely to see you.” She pulls back and smiles, sorrow staining her features.

“You just missed Nevio. He ran upstairs to get settled.” My eyes flick to Zeno, curious for his response, but his face is inscrutable. Not a lick of emotion. I’m not sure what I expected—maybe a hint of strain from mourning his father. Perhaps irritation that his brother has come despite his wishes. Something. They say everyone grieves differently, but I’m not sure Zeno De Rossi has sufficient human emotions to grieve. I always thought he looked up to his father, which would make this all that much more painful, but on the surface, Zeno is all business.

“Oh, that’s great news.” Elena gently touches my arm. “Everything here going okay?”

“Perfectly smooth. A few guests have already begun to gather out back. I was going to help receive people while Gia kept an eye on the refreshments.”

“You don’t need to do that,” Zeno announces. “I’ll stay up here and greet people. You two head outside and mingle.”

“Are you sure, dear?” his mother asks.

Z places a kiss on her cheek and offers her an uncharacteristically gentle smile. “Yes, I’m fine. You two go on.” No matter how detached he may appear, he has a soft spot for his mother.

Seeing the briefest glimpse of his armor slip tugs at my conscience. He may have hurt me in the past, but his father just died. I would never be so uncaring toward anyone else in such circumstances. No matter how thoroughly he attempts to suppress his emotions, I know he has them. I know who he used to be underneath the stoic mask. He used to be my friend, and while I can’t write off his mistreatment toward his brother and me, I also don’t want to believe he’s totally heartless. Maybe it’s naïve of me, but my common sense of decency demands I show some compassion.

“You want me to bring you a drink and maybe a plate of food?” The offer tumbles from my lips without thought. It’s the least I would have offered to anyone else who lost their father, and Zeno should be no different.

“Some water would be appreciated … thank you.” He seems almost as surprised by my offer as I am.

I nod and flee toward the kitchen to escape his penetrating gaze. Bottles of water sit on the counter, but they’re warm. After a little digging, I’m able to find a chilled bottle in the back of the fridge. I wrap a paper napkin around the cold plastic to help with the condensation and head back to the front of the house. Zeno is greeting two couples, both in their mid-sixties by the looks of it. I pause, tucking myself away where I can watch them without interrupting.