Page 46 of Blood on Ice

I flipped to my favorite picture of my mother, which was taken when I was one and a half or two years old. She was sitting on a camping chair in our tiny square of backyard next to the garden she had taken such good care of.

I wondered what she’d say about the position I was in now. She’d worked full time and went to school to keep me out of a mess like I’d gotten myself into. If I still had her support, would I have been so stupid? Who knew. But one thing I was certain of was that she would have still cared for me no matter how badly I’d screwed up. She would’ve scolded me and told me I was an idiot, but she would’ve loved me and done anything she could to help.

Maybe if I’d been sending money back to her I would’ve been more careful with what I had.

Mama, what would you think of Vito? Would you see past his family ties, his profession?

If anyone could, she would have. She’d been one of the least judgmental people I’d ever been around, but she wouldn’t want me in danger. Vito swore he would protect me, but could he protect me from himself, from his own family, from what would happen if word got out that I was with a man like him?

I wished Mama was here so I could ask her. I didn’t have anyone else. I’d made some friends on the team, like Johnson, but I wasn’t going to tell them how bad my situation had gotten in Vegas, and I wasn’t going to tell them about Vito.

Johnson knew a little bit, but he wasn’t the type of guy a person confessed deep shit to. Even if he would understand, I couldn’t let out any more of my secrets.

I pulled the photo album to my heart, curled around it, and finally let the tears I’d been holding back fall. How did I still miss my mom so much all these years later?

I woke up thinking it was still the middle of the night, but when I found my phone on the floor by the side of the bed, the clock said 6 a.m.

I sat up and rubbed my eyes. How the fuck had I been asleep that long, and where was Vito?

I jumped when a hand touched my shoulder. “You sleep good?”

“Fuck, you scared me.”

“I told you I was coming back.”

I wanted to protest, but he spooned around me, and his warmth had me scooting back against him. My apartment was always cold in the morning.

Vito laid his hand on the photo album. I’d slept the whole night with it held against me. “What’s this?”

I shook my head. “Nothing.”

“Come on. Tell me about it.”

“It obviously means a lot to you, or you wouldn’t have had your arms around it when I came to bed.”

“You being in bed with me is what we should talk about.”

“You didn’t seem to mind. You just snuggled back against me.”

I huffed. “I was asleep.”

“I don’t want to argue with you. I told you I’d be back, and I told you I was going to protect you.”

I let out a long breath. It wasn’t going to do me any good to argue because I wasn’t sad that he was in my bed. If he’d gone anywhere else, I would’ve been disappointed.

I shifted position, pulled the photo album out from under me, and handed it to him. Then I turned over and watched him as he flipped through the pages. When he got to my favorite picture of my mother, he looked up at me. “That’s your mom?”

“Yes.”

“Where is she now?”

I closed my eyes. “Heaven.”

“I’m sorry. How long ago did she pass?”

“Eight years. I was fourteen.”

“Really? I was fourteen when my mom died.”

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