Page 184 of Rosetti Family New York
Rafaele
Ican still hear the crunch of cartilage under my fist when we step into Sloane's apartment. The keys rattle like bones in her hand. New York wind follows us in, chasing February’s cold through the door. She shoves it shut, shuts me out too, trying too hard to act fine. She's not fooling anyone.
The place is like her, neat, small, badly secured. I start doing what I always do, circling, checking window locks. She eyes me like I’ve lost my mind.
“You gonna check under the bed next?”
Her voice is all irritation with a dash of leftover fear. She’s baiting me.
“If I think someone might be under there, yes.”
She sighs and flops onto a faded red couch. It sags in the middle like she’s had it too long and never bothered to fix it. A throw blanket is folded neatly on one end. She pulls it into her lap, tracing the edges with her fingers, and I can see she’s trying to hold herself together.
“It’s not a Rosetti fortress, but it’s fine, okay?”
It’s not. Not even close. I stop by the window, the one facing the fire escape, and turn the lock back and forth to test it. She groans like I’m torturing her.
“You were right about Callahan,” she says as I continue my perimeter check. “Maddy really was involved with him somehow.”
I stop moving, watching her.
“Yeah. I was right.”
There’s a flash of something in her eyes, gratitude maybe, but it’s gone in a blink.
“I can handle this, Rafe. I’m not a damsel in distress.”
I grunt, shrug. We both know it’s a lie.
“Good, because I’m not a goddamn knight.”
The heater kicks in, rattling like the whole place is going to fall apart. It smells like dust and burnt toast. I finally sit next to her, leaving a space of red fabric between us like I’m trying not to catch something. Her face is flushed from the cold and from the chaos of the night, and I notice she’s cradling her wrist.
The sleeve of her jacket is bloodstained. Mottled, angry skin blooms beneath, all black and purple, spreading like oil on water. I stand again, because it’s the only thing I know how to do, and move to the kitchen.
“I’m fine, Rafe. Seriously.”
I open the freezer, ignoring her, and toss a bag of peas in her lap. She stares at it, surprised, then shoots me a lopsided grin.
“For someone who claims not to care, you’re pretty good at this.”
“Shut up and ice it.”
I stare at her, the silence pressing, the words trapped in my mouth. I don’t like the way they feel, so I just spit them out:
“I’ve been digging around on Maddy.”
Sloane’s eyes go wide. She straightens, almost too quick, and the peas slip from her lap, narrowly missing the floor. A part of me wants to laugh, but there’s nothing funny about this.
“I thought you were out of this whole thing until, like, thirty minutes ago,” she blurts as she reaches down to retrieve the frozen bag.
“Do you want the info or not, Sloane?”
I push off the wall and cross my arms.
“Tell me.”
Her voice is sharp, urgent, like she’s afraid I’ll stop.
