Page 111 of Executing Malice
He shrugs. “I don’t know. They smiled and I smiled back. I even got a head nod.”
Sucking my lips together to keep my grin in check, I push to my feet, capture his face and pull him to me.
“I’m proud of you.”
No one understands how hard it is to make friends when you’re new. When you’re the man out and everyone else has already established foundations. On my arrival, all the people my age refused to even talk to me. It was the older crowd, the grandparents who took me under their wings and gave me companionship. So, I get his excitement.
He gives me a lopsided grin before kissing me.
“I asked,” he adds after he pulls back. “Not Mable, but the other girl. The nicer one.”
I roll my eyes even as I retreat back to my seat with my food. “Mable is ... an acquired taste.”
Dante climbs up onto the counter with his own helping of fully loaded burger and fries. “She hates me.”
I scoff. “Mable hates everyone.” I take a bite of the crispy skin and sink my teeth into the warm, juicy flesh, and groan. “Oh my God, I could eat these all day, every day.”
He nibbles on a fry and watches me with amusement. “I can make that happen.”
I shake my head even as I’m chewing and swallowing. “And I would die before I hit thirty.” I laugh. “Are you trying to kill me?”
His expression turns serious. “Give that back. No more for you.”
“Hey!” I snatch my meal out of his reach. “Back off. It’s not beneath me to stab you for trying to take my food.” I take another bite. “Once in a while is fine, but I have to pace myself.”
He continues to seem uncertain but isn’t trying to steal my food anymore. Instead, his attention is on my list.
“Are these your questions?”
I grab a fistful of napkins and scrub my mouth and hands.
“Just the ones that came to mind.”
He takes the paper and peers over the lines.
“My parents don’t know I found you. I don’t talk to them. No, they didn’t care when you went missing.” His darkeyes lift to my face, a little sad, but mostly angry. “They aren’t good people, baby. It wasn’t you.”
I don’t miss the tickle of disappointment, but I think a part of me expected that; if they cared, they would have tried to reach me when Dante found me.
“I do have siblings. I don’t talk to them either.” He looks away for a moment, jaw tense. “We didn’t have the best childhood, Leila. You were in the system since you were five. Your mom was an addict. They found you next to her.” His chin lowers a fraction before lifting to face me. “She’d been dead a few days. The neighbors called the cops because you wouldn’t stop crying.”
I set my chicken down. No longer hungry. In fact, the way my stomach is roiling, I might not be hungry for a while.
Dante notices and pushes his food aside to hop to his feet. He circles to my side of the desk and pulls me up into his arms.
“You’re not supposed to be on this side of the counter,” I mumble into his chest.
His fingers comb through my hair. His lips brush the top of my head.
“There is nothing good back there, except us. We had each other. Through all the shit, all the blood and pain.” Heholds me tighter. “I’ll tell you everything, but it’s not going to make you feel better. It won’t bring you peace.”
“I don’t know if I need to know to feel better.” I lift my face to peer up at him. “I need to know so I don’t feel like I’m missing half of myself.”
He seems reluctant but gives a slight nod. “What’s next on your list?”
With me still in his arms, he sits, taking me down into his lap. His free hand pinches the paper and brings it over.
“Were you happy? No. Neither of us were. We spent a lot of time away from the house. We’d sneak in after everyone was in bed and leave before anyone got up. We ate when we could get away with stealing it. We were very good at hiding and avoiding ... everyone.”
