Never Truth

24

We both quieted, our heaving breaths the only sound penetrating the white noise in my brain. Her words had disoriented me. Made me question everything I thought I had known … everything I’d felt so certain about. f**k! I’d run these same traps before—questioned myself and debated my doubts—and I wasn’t going to fall onto that landmine all over again. Not allowing myself time to reconsider, I lowered my shoulder to plant in Sofia’s belly and lifted her into the air. “What the hell are you doing? Nico! Put me down!” She slapped her hands against my back, and I held her flailing legs close to my chest, keeping them secured in place. I quickly took one hand and placed a resounding slap on her ass cheek. “Stop all that noise before you wake the neighbors.” I turned to exit the porch and caught sight of Enzo eyeing us from inside. I held his steely gaze for a long second, wondering if I’d just gotten myself in a s**t ton of trouble, but the older man simply turned back toward his wife. Sofia’s shock at me swatting her ass had quieted her during my exchange with Enzo, but the moment I took a step toward the stairs, she resumed her protest. “God help me, if you don’t put me down, I’ll scream so loud I’ll wake more than just the neighbors.” “Anyone ever told you, you’re cute when you’re pissed?” I asked, smirking as I continued to carry her around the side of the house. “Nico Conti, I’m serious. You can’t just steal me from my parents’ house.” “Your father saw us. He knows you’re with me.” “And I suppose that makes any of this okay? Where are you taking me? This is ridiculous,” she groused before slapping my backside. “Careful, I’m not above retaliation.” “Apparently, there’s not much you aren’t willing to do.” Ah, Sofia. You don’t know how right you are. I opened the passenger door to my car, then set her down. “Get in.” “I’m not going anywhere with you,” she said defiantly, arms crossed over her chest. “Sofia, I’m not going to hurt you. I have an errand to run, and we clearly have things to discuss, so you’re coming with me. Now, get in the car.” “How do I know you aren’t going to hurt me?” “Have I ever hurt you?” Her eyes answered for her. The raw pain in those hazel depths gutted me. Reaching out, I swept a stray curl from her eyes. “Not what I meant, Ladybug. I’d never lay a hand on you.” Her gaze dropped, and she huffed out a breath before slipping into the passenger seat. “Can’t believe I’m doing this,” she muttered just before I closed the door. I smirked as I walked to the driver’s side. I was just as surprised as she was, although clearly more optimistic about the unexpected turn of events. Getting a captive audience with her was a tricky prospect, and now she was mine for as long as I needed. Hell if I knew what I would say, but getting her alone was a start. “I have a brief meeting with someone in Jersey City. I’ll bring you back as soon as I’m done,” I offered as a small concession, hoping to get her hackles down. “At ten o’clock on a Friday night?” She paused, her eyes glancing over at me. “What exactly do you do now?” “I’m a professional boxer. I fight for a living.” The car was silent for several minutes before the feather-light touch of her fingers ghosted over the skin of my knuckles. Or rather, the scar tissue on my knuckles. My skin was mottled and bumpy where it had been busted open and healed over too many times to count. All the joints were thick from injuries and misuse, giving my hands a gnarly appearance. “What about the piano? Do you still play?” she asked quietly. “Not really. Mom makes me when I visit her, though.” “Why not? You should. You used to love playing.” I shrugged, not taking my eyes from the road. “I guess I’ve been too busy for the inspiration to strike me.” Our private school had the option of piano classes for its students. I had been thrilled at the age of six when I started learning to read music. Ma found some rickety old piano for sale so that I could practice at home, and it became one of my favorite escapes. When my world changed, I quit playing because there was no room for it in my new life. “That’s just silly. There’s always time to play music.” She spoke under her breath, wiping invisible lint from her lap. I didn’t respond. What she said was true, but I had no interest in discussing it. “How’s your mom? She doing okay?” she asked after a brief silence. “Yeah. After she finally divorced my dad, her life got better. It was a little harder at first, but definitely an improvement in the long run. She moved to Queens and works in a small bakery. I try to help her out, but she’s stubborn.” I’d have forced the issue if Ma was unhappy, but she enjoyed her independence. “I guess boxing pays well,” she murmured, eyes taking in the premium features of my car. “I never imagined you’d keep fighting. I thought it was some kind of phase or something.” She laid her head back against the headrest, her eyes hooded. Her words took us both back to the day I broke it off between us. There was a heavy silence in the car, so thick with tension I expected the windows to fog at any moment. Neither of us responded, both lost in our own thoughts. I had no f*****g clue how to fix what had happened. Talking like civil adults seemed like a good start, but after that was anyone’s guess. After several minutes passed, I glanced over to see Sofia’s eyes shut and her lips softly parted in the amber glow of the city lights. The vibrant colors reflecting off the passenger window framed her face, making her look like an image from one of her paintings.