Friends & Forever (5 page)

"Not cool," Dom said, helping
Nicholas off the ground despite the anger in his voice. Nicholas ignored him,
pushing Dom away, as others shoved him toward the door to get him out of there.

"This isn't over!" Carmine
shouted, breaking from the grasp as he started for the exit after him. He flung
the doors open and stepped outside as Nicholas casually strode through the
parking lot toward his truck. "You hear me, Barlow? This isn't over!"

Dom stepped out behind Carmine and grabbed
his arm to calm him down, but he shook his brother off.
Fuck being calm.

Nicholas paused near his truck and turned
around, glaring at Carmine. Blood streamed from the boy's mouth. He was lucky
Carmine didn't knock his teeth out for what he said.

"You know what, DeMarco?"
Nicholas shouted. "Fuck you!"

"Right back at you," Carmine
said. "Fuck you
and
your fucking sister."

"Yeah, well, fuck your mother!"
Nicholas spat.

"Don't you talk about my
mother," Carmine yelled. "I swear to God, you mention her again, and
I'll kill you."

"What, like you got
her
killed?" Nicholas spat. "
Wah-wah
,
poor baby, watched his Mommy die because he was too chicken-shit to do anything
to help her. Does your brother know you left her to die?"

The words were like knives, leaving gaping
wounds in Carmine's chest as they stabbed at him, again and again. He had told
his friend that in confidence. Nicholas was the only person he had ever
confessed that to—the fear that constantly existed inside of him, nagging
him, tearing him apart, piece-by-piece… the fear, the belief, that he had
abandoned his mother that night in the alley. That he had left her there to die
alone.

The coldness washed through Carmine again,
but this time there was no stopping
him
. Nicholas was
in his truck and pulling away by the time Carmine reached his car. He didn't
hesitate, didn't think twice about anything. He was going to make Nicholas pay
for those words. 

He drove straight to Aurora Lake, raging
simmering inside of him as he went.

Nicholas's truck was already there was he
arrived, the driver's side door wide open as he climbed out of the cab. Carmine's
tires squealed as he pulled right up to the house, his headlights illuminating
the truck. Nicholas turned to him, eyes narrowed, bitter words right on the tip
of his tongue, but he never had a chance to get them out.

Carmine reached under his seat and pulled
out the loaded Colt .45 he kept concealed there. Climbing out, Carmine clutched
the gun. Nicholas's gaze darted to it, eyes widening as he froze in terror.

Raising his arm, Carmine fired.

Bullet after bullet tore into the truck,
clanking against metal as sparks flew, the sound of gunfire echoing through the
night air. He emptied the gun, expelling every bullet. The last one hit the gas
tank, a sudden spark igniting. Startled, Carmine took an instinctive step back
as flames shot out around the truck. The fire was sudden and explosive, flames
licking at the house and igniting the corner of the porch.

"Fuck!" Nicholas screamed.
"Oh God! My house!"

His house.
Carmine stared at the flames as he lowered the gun, the sight
of the fire washing the coldness away. "What the fuck?"

"What the fuck?" Nicholas
echoed, turning to him. "What the fuck, DeMarco?"

What the fuck
?

* * *

The shiny metal handcuffs dug into Carmine's wrists behind his
back, his shoulders aching as he sat in the hard plastic chair along the far
wall. The police station not far from Aurora Lake was quiet, not the flurry of
activity Carmine had expected. A lone woman sat behind a desk at the front,
taking calls, as a few officers strolled throughout the building, filing
reports and taking statements.

Nobody spoke to him. Nobody questioned
him. Nobody even tried. They brought him in and sat him down, leaving him alone
with nothing but his agitated thoughts. He wasn't surprised, given who his
father was… they wouldn't dare question him without alerting the good
ol
' doctor, for fear of incurring his wrath, but it annoyed
Carmine, nonetheless.

He didn't need his father. He didn't need
him for
anything
.

Time passed. More people strolled by
without giving him a look, pretending as if he didn't exist, until the door to
the station opened and Vincent DeMarco walked in. An officer swiftly met him
right at the entrance, whispering quietly to him, as Vincent's eyes shifted
past the officer to where Carmine sat.

Carmine stared at his father, trying to
gauge his mood as he slowly approached. He wasn't afraid of him, per se. No,
although he knew exactly what his father was capable of, he also knew the man
would never dare physically harm him. But Carmine also knew there were ways to
hurt someone without laying a finger on
them
.

Nicholas had proven that to him again
tonight.

And as Vincent approached, Carmine felt
it, seeing the disappointment in his father's eyes. He tried to put on a brave
face, to keep the mask of indifference in place, but it stung. The rage Carmine
could take.
But the pity?

That he could
fucking
keep
.

Vincent let out an exasperated sigh as he
sat down in the chair beside Carmine. Tension rolled from him in waves, causing
Carmine's natural instinct to want to flee to kick in. It was a defensive
mechanism—he somehow managed to remember that from psychology class. When
people were stressed their reaction was to either fight or flee, and at that
moment Carmine wanted nothing more than to get the fuck out of there. He’d
already done enough fighting to last a lifetime—after all, it was what
had landed him in the chair in the first place.

"They're charging you with attempted
murder."

Carmine blanched. Attempted
murder
?
"I didn't—"

Vincent raised a hand to silence him
before he could even start pleading his case. "They say you unloaded a gun
into Nicholas's truck with him there. Is that true?"

"Of course not. I'm innocent. That's
what we say, right? Always innocent."

"That's what we're going to say, but
I'm
asking you, son… is it true?"

Carmine scoffed. He wanted to say
something mocking, to ask his father why the hell he was pretending to care
right now, but he was too frazzled.

Attempted murder?

Instead, bitter laughter rattled his
chest.

"This isn’t a joke, son."

"Isn’t it?” Carmine muttered,
uncomfortably shifting position. "I thought the, uh,
punch
line was
pretty good, personally."

Vincent shook his head. "I feel like
I don't even know you anymore, Carmine. You're better than this. You weren't
raised this way."

"Wasn't I?"

Vincent didn't have a response to that.

"Look, I didn't try to kill him. I
just… I wanted to scare him. I wanted to piss him off. I wanted to hurt
him."

He wanted Nicholas to hurt as much as he
hurt.

"Oh, you definitely succeeded
there." Vincent ran his hands down his face. "I'll see what I can do.
Just stay quiet and be on your best behavior until I sort this out, okay?"

Carmine nodded slowly. Vincent reached
over and patted him on the back, squeezing his neck as if trying to reassure
him. It was the most fatherly gesture he'd felt from the man in years.

Carmine fucking hated
himself
for relishing it.

* * *

Carmine was locked up overnight and released the next afternoon
into his father's custody.

Three weeks later, he found himself right
back at the police station, but there were no handcuffs this time. Carmine sat
in a conference room, a long wooden table separating him and Nicholas. Their
fathers and lawyers flanked both of them, while the District Attorney, the
Chief of Police, and a Superior Court judge occupied the other chairs.

It was off the record, a meeting that
nobody would ever know happened except for the people invited into the room.
Vincent had paid a lot of money to make it go down this way, had called in a
lot of favors—favors Carmine wasn't sure he ever wanted to know about.

A small twinge of guilt settled deep in
his chest as he glared across the table straight at Nicholas. Why did he feel
guilty? He wasn't sure. Maybe it was for what he had done… or maybe it was for
what he still had the urge to do.

"So, here's the arrangement,"
the DA said, shifting through the stack of papers in front of him. "The
DeMarco family agrees to be liable for all property damage and pay restitution
in the amount of a quarter million dollars. Carmine is barred from the Aurora Lake
community and is to stay away from the Barlow family."

Carmine didn't react, still staring
straight ahead, as Nicholas muttered something under his breath.

"In exchange, all charges against
Carmine will be dropped," the
DA
continued.
"There's the matter of school that needs to be addressed, however."

"Won't be a problem," Vincent
said assuredly. Carmine's brow furrowed, but he still didn't look away from his
old friend. Both boys had been suspended for the fight at the homecoming dance,
but they were supposed to head back to Durante High next week.

They had all their fucking classes
together.

"Yeah." Joshua Barlow cleared
his throat. "I've pulled Nicholas out of Durante. He's enrolled up here in
Aurora County now."

Nicholas muttered again, louder that time,
clearly not happy about that. Aurora's football program was shit. If you wanted
to go anywhere, you needed a team like Durante behind you.

Sucks for
him.

"Great," the DA said. "It's
all settled then. As far as I'm concerned, you two never have to cross paths
again."

They said some parting words as everyone
got up to leave, but Carmine remained in his seat, unmoving. Nicholas didn't
move, either. They glared at each other as the others filtered out. Vincent
hesitated by the door, eyeing the two of them warily, but shrugged it off and
walked out instead.

Slowly, Nicholas pushed his chair back to
stand up. "You know, DeMarco, I would've forgiven you. I
would've
.
I was pissed about my sister, but I would've gotten over it. You were my best
friend."

"Not anymore," Carmine said.

"You're right. Not anymore. Because
this? I'm not sure I can forgive you for
this
."

"It doesn't matter," Carmine
said, glaring at him. "Because I'll
never
forgive you."

Nicholas shook his head. "I don't get
why you're so pissed. You tried to
kill
me."

"You did something even worse."

"What's that?"

"You
betrayed
me."

Nicholas scoffed. "Whatever. You'll
learn someday, DeMarco."

Carmine's eyes narrowed. That sounded
vaguely like a threat. "Learn what?"

"Learn that this? Relationships?
Friendships?
They
're
a two-way
street
. And until you get over yourself, you'll never keep
anybody
.
I'll make sure of it."

* * *

Later that night, Carmine was sitting in the living room at his
house, vaguely watching a movie, when his father walked in and tossed a brochure
on his lap. Sighing with annoyance, Carmine picked it up and glanced at the
front.

Benton Academy

"We're leaving the day after
tomorrow," Vincent said, "so you might want to start packing your
things."

"You're sending me away?
Really?"

"You did this to yourself,
Carmine."

Carmine stared at the brochure as his
father walked out.

He did it to himself. He did.

But it didn't stop him from blaming
everybody else for it, anyway.

"Whatever," he grumbled to the
empty room, standing up and throwing the brochure down on the coffee table
without even opening it. What did it matter? He had no reason to stay in
Durante, anyway.

Wasn't like he had any
friends
.

Forever.

Impatient pounding vibrated the wooden blue door. Carmine
stood at the top of the staircase at the house on Felton Drive in Chicago,
staring down at the foyer in the dim lighting. Shadows swept across the front
door, but enough early evening sunlight still streamed inside for him to see it
shaking from the force of the knocks.

"Can you get that?" Haven
asked, stepping out of a bedroom behind him. Carmine continued to stare at the
door in silence, watching as the knob jiggled. Jesus Christ, they were
practically trying to
break
in. Haven sighed loudly at his lack of
movement, slipping past him. "Okay, then…
I'll
get it."

She took the steps two at a time and
paused in the foyer to undo the half dozen locks he insisted they use, as
another form ran out of the bedroom and pushed past Carmine, not nearly as
delicate about it as Haven had been. The blurry pink, sparkling mass nearly
knocked him off his fucking feet, sending him stumbling a few steps, as they
darted downstairs and out of view.

"Excuse you!" Carmine
shouted.

"Excuse me!" a little voice
shouted back, the back door opening and slamming again before Haven could even
get the other door unlocked.

Haven pulled the front door open, a
blast of sunlight sweeping over her, making her practically glow. She started
to speak, barely getting a syllable out when someone rushed inside. The tiny
football player slammed right into her, like he was a linebacker sacking the
fucking quarterback.

Stumbling back a few steps, Haven
laughed, grasping ahold of the little boy and wrapping her arms around him in a
hug.

"Vinnie! What did I tell you
about tackling people?"

The loud, grating voice rang out
right away, the familiarity making Carmine grimace, seconds before the bright
blonde head appeared in the foyer.

Tess
.

She stepped inside, reaching for her
son, but Haven pulled him aside, out of reach of his mother. "Oh, he's
fine. He's only five."

Tess rolled her eyes as the boy
slipped away, sprinting through the house for the back door. "No running
inside, Vinnie!"

"That's okay, too," Haven
said, waving toward him as he headed out into the back yard. "It's
certainly nothing new around here. Besides, he's not hurting anything."

Carmine snickered under his breath,
watching Tess's cheek twitch as she bit back a response. While Tess didn't like
to have anyone contradict her, she knew in
this
house, Haven's word was
law. She spoke, and everyone fucking listened, even Carmine, who had a habit of
not listening to
anybody
.

Corrado could certainly attest to
that. Carmine liked to think it was his inability to follow rules that saved
him from a life of mayhem. Corrado knew he wouldn't make it, that he wouldn't
last much longer in
the life
.

Never had Carmine been so damn
grateful to fuck up at something so important.

But while Carmine never listened to
anybody else, he listened to his wife. It was less about authority and more
about respect, he figured. After the shit Haven went through in other people's
houses growing up, the least she deserved was some control in her own home. So
if she wanted to paint the walls bubblegum pink and let people run around like
fucking banshees, so be it.

Tess dropped the matter with a shake
of the head, muttering under her breath. "Spoken like a true auntie."

Haven smiled, as if she wore that
shit like a badge of honor, as her attention turned to the still open door.
Dominic stepped into view, grinning, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
Excitement oozed from the
fucker
as he stood there,
cloaked in all black except for the hideous clown mask perched on top of his
head, ripped straight out of a Stephen King flick.

"Twinkle toes," he said,
his voice high-pitched. "You ready for this?"

She nodded eagerly. "Are
you?"

"Oh you know it," he said.
"I was
born
ready."

Rolling his eyes, Carmine descended
the stairs, not feeling a fraction of the enthusiasm those two put off.
Everyone looked up at the sound of his approach. Haven and Dom smiled, while
Tess greeted him with her usual
I wish I didn't have to deal with this
asshole
scowl. He tipped his head at her, foregoing his usual sarcastic
greeting.

Play nice today
, Haven had said.

Sure, that had been meant for the tiniest
DeMarcos
, but like Carmine said: when Haven spoke, he
sure as fuck tried to listen.

"Don't you look chipper,"
Dom said sarcastically, punching his arm when he wordlessly strode by.
"What's got you so sunshiny today?"

Before Carmine could respond, Tess
chimed in. "Sobriety. I thought he was insufferable as a drunk, but sober?
He's perpetually
PMSing
."

Carmine opened his mouth to take a
swipe back at her when Haven interjected. "Be nice. It's been one of those
days."

One
of those days
.

Haven didn't elaborate, but they all
knew what she meant. One of those days where Carmine's sleep had been plagued
with nightmares and his waking hours hadn't been much better. The numbness, the
feelings of guilt, his insides taut like a coil. It's been years, but memories
still haunted him, triggered unexpectedly out of nowhere.

PTSD, the doctors said. Watching a
parent die violently is traumatic. Carmine had been the lucky fucker to go
through that shit
twice
. As a kid, it left him frozen, unresponsive and
guilt-stricken. As an adult, well...

Yeah, sometimes sobriety
really
fucking sucked.

They started talking again while
Carmine slipped away, heading for the back yard where the kids had disappeared.
He spotted his nephew right away, hiking a football behind him at nobody.
Vincent
.
Tough shoes to fill, Carmine thought. He wondered how the boy would feel about
the name when he grew up and came to the realization that his grandfather had
been a hell of a lot more than just a small town doctor.

Carmine strolled over, snatching up
the ball when the boy threw it between his legs. He palmed the football, his
fingers settling between the laces and resting against the worn brown leather.
A strange sense of ease settled over him. Man, it had been years since he
played, but the familiarity was striking, like riding a bike.

Vinnie stood up straight and turned
toward him. "Can you throw, Uncle Carmine?"

Carmine laughed under his breath.
"I think so."

Vinnie's eyes lit up, and he stood
there with his hands out, waiting as Carmine backed up. He threw the ball,
watching the perfect spiral as it sailed across the yard, straight to the
little boy. Vinnie tried to catch it, getting his hands around it, but his grip
slipped, the ball tumbling into the grass. The boy snatched it right up, though,
and reared back, throwing it with all his might. It wobbled horribly but came
right toward Carmine. He didn't even have to move to catch it.

"Wow!" Vinnie said, eyes
widening. "You're good!"

Carmine smiled, only responding with
a slight shrug of the shoulder, before throwing the ball again. They tossed it
back and forth for a few minutes before a squeal echoed through the yard.
Carmine looked around instinctively, seeking out the source, his eyes falling
on the little pink form hanging from a tree branch.
Un-fucking-believable
.

"Get down before you break
something," Carmine said, catching the ball when Vinnie threw it again.
"You hurt yourself and your mother's liable to hurt
me
."

The little girl listened without
hesitation, letting go of the tree branch and dropping to the ground, falling
right on her ass. Carmine winced, tossing the ball back to Vinnie, as she
picked herself right back up, showing no signs of distress. She ran straight
for them, her princess gown fucking filthy, already torn,
the
matching tiara long gone. The hair her mother had tormented over all goddamn
afternoon, curling and fixing, was now destroyed, frizzy and bushy and fifty
shades of fucked up.

What else did he expect, though, from
a child that carried
his
genes? The girl never stood a chance. Rowdiness
was encoded in her DNA. Only three years old and she was already a tiny terror,
fearless and reckless. She wasn't a bad kid.
No, not at all.
But she had a spirit that couldn't be broken, a wildness that couldn't be
tamed. The girl was strong-willed and passionate.

And Carmine fucking loved it.

He'd been worried about having a kid,
but even more worried about having a
daughter
. Daughters terrified him.
Boys broke hearts indiscriminately. They didn't care
whose
daughter it
was. Carmine knew, because he'd been one of them. And it terrified him, the
thought of karma catching up to him and his child being on the receiving end.
He'd spent a lot of his life paying for his father's countless sins. He didn't
want his daughter to have to pay for his.

But
her?
Maura Miranda
DeMarco?

He wasn't worried at all.

If anything, the boys would need to
watch out for
her
.

"Oh, me!" she squealed,
jumping up and down, her bare feet dirty from running around in the grass.
"Me! Me! Throw it to me, Daddy!"

Carmine gripped the ball with both
hands as he regarded her before tossing the ball to Vinnie instead. "You
wanna play, Maura? Go put on some shoes."

"But—"

"You heard me,
piccola
.
Shoes."

She turned with a loud huff and ran
inside, returning just a moment later with a pair of pink Nike's on her feet,
the laces untied. Carmine shook his head, catching the ball when Vinnie threw
it at him, before he turned to his daughter. The back door stood wide open
behind her, the rest of the family starting to filter out.

Maura held both arms out and he
tossed the ball underhanded toward her. She caught it, and he smiled with
pride, his expression slipping when she took off running straight at him, full
speed. His eyes widened at the fierce determination on her face and had just
enough time to take a step back when she rammed right into him.

"Tackle!" she screeched,
nearly knocking him down. Carmine laughed, stumbling, and grabbed ahold of her.
She was just a little thing, two-and-a-half feet tall and barely twenty-five
pounds soaking wet. He picked her up, swinging her around as she clutched onto
the ball tightly, her frantic giggles echoing through the yard when he wrapped
one arm around her and started tickling her sides with his free hand.
"Daddy! No, tickles! No!
Tackle
!"

"I think you need to learn the
rules of the game, sweetheart," he said, spinning her upside down, holding
her there, her head dangling, wayward hair hanging down toward his knees.
"The man
without
the ball does the tackling. You're trying to sack
the quarterback when he doesn't even have the ball anymore. That's a
fifteen-yard penalty."

"Carmine!" Haven stepped
out onto the back porch and gaped at him. "She's wearing a dress!"

"She has pants on
underneath."

"So? Put her down before all the
blood rushes to her head!"

Carmine obliged, dropping Maura into
the grass as she giggled some more. He knelt down, tickling her again, before
snatching the ball from her grip. Maura jumped to her feet and ran after him,
trying to get it back, but Carmine tossed it to Vinnie before she could get her
hands on it. Maura ran into him again, wrapping her arms around his legs from
behind, determined to bring him down. Before Carmine could get her, she
head-butted the back of his legs, making his knees buckle. He hit the ground, rolling
onto his back, just as she took a flying leap on top of him, pointy elbows and
knees digging into his ribs.

"Christ, girl," Carmine
said, yanking her into his arms as she continued to laugh. "Everything
about that was against the rules.
Unnecessary roughness
."

He got to his feet again, pulling her
with him, as Haven walked over. She bent down, tugging on Maura's dress, trying
to fix it, before she started smoothing the little girl's hair. None of it
helped, though. There was no helping that disaster.

"Why'd you get her all
dirty?" Haven asked, looking up at Carmine. "I spent all day getting
her ready."

Carmine held up his hands
defensively. "Hey, I had nothing to do with it. That was all her."

Rolling her eyes, Haven stood back
up. "I have a hard time believing you're innocent."

"I am." Carmine reached
over, grabbing ahold of Haven. She yelped as Carmine picked her up. He couldn't
toss her around like he did Maura, certainly couldn't swing her upside down,
but her feet dangled inches from the ground as she wiggled in his arms, her
cheeks flushing. "I'm innocent,
tesoro
."