Gian (Trassato Crime Family Book 1)(56)

Ring.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Well, thank God, I was beginning to think you were dead.”

I slumped against the kitchen counter, the sharp edge digging into my lower back. “Not dead, just busy.”

“So how are things going?”

“Good. Good.” I traced the rim of my coffee mug. “I started dancing again.”

“Really? How is your ankle holding up?”

I glanced out the window above the kitchen sink. The sun had started to come up, and it was an impressive mixture of reds and oranges competing for attention with the crowded skyline. Sometimes I missed the sunrises and sunsets of my hometown. They stretched as far as I could see, uninterrupted by buildings and smog. They were swirls of color, dancing above the swaying cornfields.

I swiped a hand down the side of my face. “It hasn’t been bothering me much at all. During the first couple of minutes of my routine, it feels a little tight, but other than that, it’s good as new, and my physical therapist released me from rehab yesterday. I guess taking the year off wasn’t such a bad thing after all.”

Gian padded into the kitchen, sidling up next me and opening an upper cabinet for a mug. My mom’s words blurred together, and all I could see and hear was him.

A lopsided grin spilt his face when he caught me staring at him. “Who are you talking to?”

I cupped my hand over the lower half of my phone. “My mom.”

He lifted the carafe and poured coffee into his mug. “Is that a good or a bad thing?”

I shrugged. “A little of both, but I couldn’t avoid her forever, or she might hop on a plane and come looking for me.”

His hands framed the sides of my face, and he studied me carefully. “You look stressed.”

“I haven’t told her I moved in with you.” I swallowed. “She thinks I’m living with Carmela.”

“Ah.” He kissed the top of my head. “You don’t have to say anything.”

My mom’s shrill voice echoed through the phone, drawing my attention back to her.

“Evangeline, are you listening to me? Did you hear a word of what I said?”

I pulled my hand away from the speaker and grabbed my cup of coffee off the counter. “No. Sorry. The reception sucks here.”

She blew out a breath that conveyed her frustration better than words ever could. “I said your dad contacted me yesterday.”

“What?” My heart lurched into my throat, and the mug slipped from my hands, exploding on the hardwood.

I stared at the blue shards mixed with liquid on the floor for several breaths. I didn’t know how to respond. He had disappeared from our life so long ago, I barely thought about him anymore. He seemed more like a myth than a real person.

“I talked to your dad,” she repeated.

“He called you? Why? I don’t get it. He hasn’t bothered with any of us in over a decade.” She didn’t answer me. “Hello, Mom? Are you still there?”

“He calls now and then. Not regularly, but he hasn’t disappeared.”

I lifted my head, and my eyes met Gian’s. His brows were scrunched together, and his mouth was pressed into a tight line. “Are you okay?” he mouthed.

I nodded, and he crouched down to pick up the broken shards of ceramic.

“Why didn’t you tell me you still talked to him?”

She sighed. “I don’t know. It didn’t seem important.”

Anger and frustration bubbled inside my chest. “What the fuck, Mom? That makes no sense. Of course, it’s important. He’s my dad. What are you hiding?”

“Look, Evangeline, I can’t get into this over the phone. He couldn’t be a part of our lives. That’s the end of the story.”

“Seriously? That’s your explanation for lying to me about my father for the majority of my life?”

“It’s what he wanted.”

“Great. Just fucking great.” I slashed my hand through the air, nearly hitting Gian in the chest. He snagged my wrist, and his strong arms curled around me, pulling me against his chest. I melted into his embrace, my heartbeat slowing fractionally and my legs weak. Like a vampire, I drank in his warmth, and I breathed in his unequaled scent.

He pressed his lips to my forehead. “I’m here.”

“I can’t talk about this right now, Mom. I’ll call you later.”

“Wait,” my mom said, her voice high-pitched.

“What?”

“He wants to meet with you.”

“Why the hell would he care about seeing me now? He hasn’t made any effort to see me for years.”

“He checks in on you from time to time to make sure you’re doing okay.”