If anything, he was more terrifying.

Corrado’s eyes found Carmine’s after a moment, so dark they were nearly black, with not a single flicker of emotion registering. It sent an uncomfortable chill down Carmine’s spine, the affection he had started to feel quickly replaced once more with apprehension. Carmine wondered if Corrado could sense it too, because he turned away. He limped slightly as he grabbed their bags again and disappeared upstairs without having uttered a single word.

Carmine had no idea what to say, and Vincent and Haven appeared just as speechless, but as expected, Dominic let nothing slip by. “Damn, we can’t even get a hello?”

Celia smiled sadly. “Don’t take it personally. He’s still getting his bearings. Give him some time and he’ll come around.”

From the look on Vincent’s face, Carmine suspected his father didn’t believe that.

3

The sun had started to set when they settled into the family room that evening to watch a movie. Long shadows stretched across the floor, accented by the colored lights twinkling from the tree. Dominic ordered Chinese food before calling his girlfriend, Tess, to come over. She, too, was in town from Notre Dame and arrived within a matter of minutes, squeezing beside Dominic in a chair with a bowl of popcorn in her lap. Haven and Carmine lounged on the couch, sitting so close their arms touched. Celia had excused herself to join her husband, while Vincent claimed to have some work to do upstairs.

“What’s Dr. DeMarco doing?” Haven asked quietly, leaning closer to Carmine. “He’s never around anymore.”

“Yeah, I think he’s up to something.”

“Like what?”

“I wish I knew,” he said. “But desperate times call for desperate measures, so whatever it is has gotta be drastic.”

“You think there’s trouble?” she asked, a tinge of panic in her voice.

He laughed dryly. “When isn’t there?”

A string of loud knocks vibrated the front door. They all glanced around at one another, nobody making a move to answer it. Carmine stood, shaking his head. “Don’t everyone get up at the same time.”

“I would’ve gotten it,” Haven said, “but I don’t have any money.”

“I know,” he said. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll pay.”

“Thanks, DeMarco,” Tess said, tossing a piece of popcorn across the room at him. “At least you’re good for something.”

He flashed his middle finger at her.

Tess scrunched up her nose. “You can shove that finger up your ass.”

“Fuck you.”

Carmine headed for the foyer and pulled out his wallet to sort through his cash. The person at the door banged impatiently, loud and forceful. “Christ, I’m coming. Who do you think you are, pounding like the fucking—?”

He froze abruptly when he opened the door, his gaze falling on a shiny gold badge held up at eye level. “Police,” the officer said stoically.

Carmine’s response was immediate. “I have nothing to say.”

“You don’t even know what I want,” the officer said with a sharp laugh, amused by Carmine’s reaction. “I’m Detective Jack Baranski. Is there a girl named Haven here?”

“Why?” Carmine asked.

“I’d like to talk to her about a boy named Nicholas Barlow.”

Carmine’s muscles immediately seized up, his heart pounding aggressively as a brutal vision of his former friend forced its way to the front of his mind.

The loud bang of a gunshot ringing out in the distance. A piercing scream cutting through the air. Nicholas dropping to his knees and clutching his chest as he opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. There was nothing but strangled silence. He was gone within a matter of seconds.

Dead.

Fucking dead.

“It’ll only take a few minutes,” the detective said when Carmine didn’t respond. “May I come in?”

Carmine shook his head, barely able to get out the words. “Go away.”

Before he could slam the door in the man’s face, Vincent’s voice rang out behind him. “Let him in, son.”

Carmine turned to see his father standing on the stairs. He had to have heard wrong. Vincent DeMarco would never willingly invite law enforcement into his home. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Vincent descended the last few steps into the foyer. “Let him ask his questions.”

“No way,” Carmine spat. He was about to ask his father if he had lost his mind when his brother interrupted.

“Where the hell’s the food? I’m starving here,” Dominic hollered, stepping out of the great room and glancing toward the front door. His eyes went wide when he saw the police officer. “Whoa, definitely not the delivery guy! What did you do now, bro?”

Carmine groaned. Why did he have to assume it was him?

“He isn’t here for Carmine,” Vincent said. “He just has a few questions for Haven, and then he’ll be on his way.”

Begrudgingly, Carmine moved aside so Vincent could lead the detective into the family room. Dominic excused himself, bolting upstairs and dragging Tess along with him. Carmine went to close the door when a car pulled up, the Chinese delivery guy parking behind the unmarked police cruiser. Carmine shoved some money at the guy, then snatched the food and slammed the door, dropping their dinner off in the kitchen before hurrying to the family room.

Carmine sat on the arm of the couch beside Haven, not wanting to be far from her, as the man cleared his throat. “I’d prefer to speak to her alone, if you don’t mind.”

“Unfortunately for you, I do mind,” Vincent said. “I invited you in, but I won’t be put out by you.”

“Fine.” Detective Baranski pulled a small notebook from his pocket and flipped it open. “Haven, do you know Nicholas Barlow?”

Haven picked at her fingernails as she started stammering. “Yes. Well, I know who he is, but I didn’t really know him that well. Or, I mean, I don’t . . . not didn’t.”

Her panicked eyes darted toward Carmine briefly before settling on the floor.

“When’s the last time you saw him?” Detective Baranski asked.

“The end of September,” she said. “Carmine had a football game that night.”

“And did anything out of the ordinary happen at the game?”

“I kicked his ass,” Carmine chimed in, wanting to spare her from having to recount it. “That’s not really out of the ordinary, though. We fought all the time.”

“Huh. Well, what happened after the fight?”

“He ran off,” Carmine said, “just like every other time we fought.”

The officer eyed Carmine suspiciously. “Was that the last time you saw him?”

“No, I saw him a week after that,” Carmine admitted. “I was taking the SAT at the high school when he showed up.”

“Why?”

“For shits and giggles. Why does anyone take the SATs?”

“I’m not asking you why you took the test,” Detective Baranski said impatiently. “I’m asking why he was there.”

Carmine shrugged, knowing what he meant the first time but not wanting to answer that question.

“Did anything happen then?”

“Exactly what happened every other time the two of us got together.”

“Another fight.” The officer nodded as if it were no surprise. “And the last time you saw him, Haven, was at the football game?”

“Yes.” She hesitated before shaking her head. “Well, no. I saw him later that night at Aurora Lake. We talked and then I went home.”

“And that was the last time you saw him?”

Her eyes quickly scanned the room as Vincent nodded, the movement so slight Carmine barely caught it. “Yes,” she whispered. Lying.

“Do you have any idea what might’ve happened to him?”

She didn’t hesitate this time. “Yes.”

Tensing, Carmine looked at her incredulously. What the fuck?

“The night at the lake, he said there was nothing left here for him,” she said. “He talked about leaving, just disappearing, to start over somewhere where nobody knew him. I thought he was venting, but I wonder if that’s what he did.”

“It’s possible.” The officer closed his notebook and returned it to his pocket.

“I can’t help but think it’s my fault,” she continued. “Maybe I could’ve stopped him, or helped him. Maybe then he wouldn’t be . . . gone.”

Carmine’s chest tightened with guilt at her words.

“You can’t blame yourself for decisions other people make, miss,” Officer Baranski said, standing to leave. “I appreciate your time. If you think of anything else that might help us find Nicholas, give me a call.”

He pulled out a business card and Haven gingerly took it from him. Vincent showed the officer out and Haven sat still for a moment before crumpling the officer’s card up in a tight fist.

The tension in the room mounted. Carmine couldn’t stand the silence and turned to her as soon as the front door closed. “You really think this is your fault?”

“Of course,” she said quietly. “If I hadn’t—”

“That’s ridiculous,” he interrupted, not giving her a chance to explain. “You didn’t cause any of this.”

“But I did,” she said. “Don’t you see? All of it was me, Carmine, all because I’m some Princi—whatever! A stinking princess! Your mother and Nicholas died, Corrado got hurt, and you gave your life away like it didn’t even matter! What’s next? How much more is going to happen because of me?”

Carmine knew it then, seeing the tears flooding her sorrowful eyes, tears she had been holding back for weeks. The button had been pushed. The nuclear bomb had been ignited. Their fragile bubble of contentment was about to fucking explode.

“I won’t let you take that burden,” he said. “And don’t you dare feel guilty for what I did. If you wanna blame anyone for it, blame me. I did it because I wanted to, not because I had to. I did it because I love you, Haven, and you didn’t force me to fucking love you. I did that shit all on my own. And I don’t regret any of it.”