Jim groaned and jumped from the chair. “I knew this would happen. He’s not good for you. What did he do?”
“Do you need one of your heart pills, dear?” Maria asked.
“No, I’ll be fine if my daughter just answers my question.”
“Dad, please calm down. I know he didn’t mean to hurt me. I wanted more than friendship, and he couldn’t handle it. He’s had some issues in his past, and he doesn’t believe he’s worthy. He doesn’t want to take a chance on me.”
Her father lapsed into silence. For a while, he studied her face, and then finally ducked his head. Maria took her hand, her soft brown eyes gleaming with understanding. “I’m so sorry. I know you’re in pain right now. Do you think he’ll come around with some time?”
Damn tears again. It was like permanent PMS. She blinked rapidly. “No. I know he loves me, but he’s stuck on the idea he’ll hurt me in the future. I can’t make him try.”
“No, you can’t.” Maria came over and tucked her into her arms. Pressing kisses to her head, she rocked her back and forth like she was little. “You’ll be okay. Not for a while; it will hurt deeply. But you did the right thing by trying.”
“Maybe it’s for the best,” her father said gruffly. “Maybe he would’ve hurt you.”
Genevieve sniffed. “There are never guarantees, Dad. All I wanted was him to be brave enough to take the leap with me. What hurts the most is he doesn’t see how special he is. How gentle, loving, and protective. He makes me . . . better.”
Maria let her cry, and when she finally lifted her head, she felt calmer.
Her father was gone.
twenty-nine
WOLFE COMPLETED THE third set of pull-ups and dropped.
Mötley Crüe blared loud and badassed behind him. He guzzled water, donned the boxing gloves, and set himself up for another round of punishing, brutal punches.
He’d do anything to stop the pain.
He was into the first round for a good five minutes before the music shut off. Catching his breath, he wiped his face with a towel and faced Sawyer. “Come to get a good thrashing?” he asked with a grin.
Sawyer didn’t smile back. Instead, he got that worried, pinched look on his face. Uh-oh. Wolfe remembered that expression when he was nineteen, twenty, and yeah, maybe even twenty-one. He wanted to have a talk.
“Maybe later. Got a minute?”
He wasn’t up for it now. Having a heart-to-heart with the one man who understood him might let loose some shit he wanted locked up for good. “Can I catch you later?”
Sawyer sighed and sat down on the bench. “Won’t take long. How come you came back to Italy?”
Wolfe stiffened, avoiding his gaze. “Told you. I’d planned on staying a few weeks, but needed to fly Gen home. I just decided to come right back. Hell¸ man, if I’m messing up your mojo I’ll get the hell out. All you had to do was say so.”
“Don’t.”
The quiet word made him pause. He was being a dick and he knew it. “Sorry. I’m dealing with some shit. Trying to get my head together.”
“Now that I understand. Look, I’m glad you’re here. Hell, I’m stoked and want you to stay as long as possible. But you’ve been different, and I think it has to do with Gen. I don’t want to get in your business, but you can talk to me. I’ve been there.”
Wolfe dragged in a breath and faced his stepfather. “I know. I just need some time. I’ll be okay.”
Sawyer gave a curt nod, but his face was plainly disbelieving. “I can respect that. I’m here if you need me. I will tell you this, though. When Julietta and I first got together, I wanted it to be about sex. Only sex.”
Wolfe made a face. “TMI, dude.”
“Sorry. Trying to make a point. It turned into more, but I fought it because I didn’t think I was good enough. Believed I was damaged, from the stuff I did in the past. She convinced me otherwise, but it took time. You see, Wolfe, when a woman loves you, she doesn’t see the past or the mistakes or the crap. She just sees the future.”
Wolfe remained quiet. Sawyer stood and squeezed his shoulder. “That’s all I got. But you better shower soon because you need to go on an appointment.”
“With who?”
Sawyer turned back to look at him. “Mama Conte expects you for dinner at six.”
“You coming?”
His stepfather shot him a look. “Not this time. She requested only you. Good luck.”
He disappeared, leaving him with his thoughts and regret and sweat.
“Ah, fuck.”
WOLFE BEGAN TO RELAX.
The dinner was perfect. They’d feasted on only four courses instead of six, and having Mama Conte on a one-to-one basis was enjoyable. He’d learned stories about Julietta growing up, the launch of her bakery, and got a glimpse of the powerful man Mama Conte had loved, married, and lost. She never mentioned anything personal, and Wolfe caught no judgment or worry in her gaze. He finished grinding the coffee beans, and prepared them two cups of espresso to go with the buttery amaretti she’d just baked.