Heartbroken

I reach for an expensive-looking bottle of whiskey. Whiskey has always been Ricardo's favorite drink, and that feeling has rubbed off on all of us: me, Roman, Tony, and Michael. Even Rosa likes to indulge from time to time. I think this is all we have left of him. The memories he left us, the things he used to do.

Finally, he gets I feel Roman rise to his feet, and a few seconds later he’s sitting next to me. I think he’s decided he can’t scare me. He grabs the bottle and, after a few seconds of consideration, pours some into another glass.

“My dad saved this for a special occasion,” he says, downing it in one big gulp. “I don’t think he could drink this whiskey, wherever the hell he is right now.”

My job is to make him comfortable.

“I’m sure he’s in a good place,” I say quietly.

Roman chuckles. It’s a low, mocking sound.

“That’s very funny, wolf cub. The only place my father could end up is in hell,” he says darkly.

Unfortunately, he’s probably right. I pour myself another glass and raise it. Hello, Ricardo. I’ll miss you.

I can feel Roman’s eyes on me as I drink. When I turn to look at him, a question dances in their depths. I raise an eyebrow, suggesting it.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

“Well… I’m trying to save all the glasses in this room.” I don't think Maria would be very happy if she woke up and found all her expensive glassware broken.

“No, I mean, why are you here? In New York. Don't you live in Boston and do God knows what?”

“I... But I also have to be here for my family.”

He scoffs.

“What? The family you abandoned?”

My irritation grows. I wondered how long it would take him to piss me off.

“Don't you ever get tired of repeating the same thing over and over again?”

I never abandoned my family. And I don’t let him make me feel guilty for pursuing my dreams. Roman likes to believe that I’m a selfish, boring girl who doesn’t care about anyone but herself.

He shakes his head.

“Tell me, what are you doing in Boston? I’m guessing you have a boyfriend, maybe a boring one. A guy who whispers sweet nothings in your ear. Someone who makes you feel safe, protected, and loved. That’s what you want, isn’t it, Elena? When it comes down to it, you’re just a girl with mommy issues. You'll always wonder why. Why weren't you enough?”

My fist tightens around the glass. I could keep quiet. Don't rise to the bait. He's hurt right now, and he's lashing out in typical Roman fashion. I should be calm and mature about this. But that wouldn't be my style.

I give him a smug smile.

"I guess we're in the same boat now, aren't we? Your father died before he could tell you were enough. Now you'll always wonder what he thought of you. Just like me.”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I want to take them back. He attacked my wound that had been there for years. I just attacked his fresh one. His father died four days ago.

Yeah, I'm going to hell.

Roman, however, doesn't seem upset by my words. A normal person would be heartbroken. But his eyes are shining.

"See, this is why I like you, Elena. You don't pull your punches. You're vicious. It's a lot like your brother. You kill people with words from your pretty mouth, and he kills them literally.”

My mouth opens slightly in surprise.

I don’t know what to say to that.

“You don’t like me,” I say. The words come out slowly.

He shrugs.

“Like, I hate you, that’s all. Sometimes I can’t stand the sight of you. And other days, you’re the thing I crave most.”

Excuse me, what? Did he just say he craves me?

I have no idea where those words came from. But I think I’ve had enough.

I get to my feet, ready to run, to run from whatever the hell this is.

“Wait,” Roman says. Very slowly, I look up at him. “Don’t go.” Another statement that makes no sense.

“Why the hell not?”

“Because you make me feel something. I don’t feel anything right now, little wolf.”

I study him, noting the look in his eyes, the circles under them. I sigh softly.

“I think you should go to sleep,” I finally say.

“Trust me, I won’t be able to sleep.”

“Of course you can. All you have to do is lie down on the bed and close your eyes. Even someone like you can do simple human things.”

I move forward, placing my hand on his shoulder to lift him. His skin is a burning furnace. But I don't pull away, even though the contact makes electricity pulse under my skin.

“Come on, Roman. Just go to sleep, you’ve had enough to drink. I guarantee the bar will still be here when you wake up.”

He doesn’t move. His expression is thoughtful.

“You know you’re terrible at comforting people.”

“Yeah, thanks, I took note,” I say, rolling my eyes.

To his feet. I lead him out of the bar and into the bedroom. I’ve never been inside his room before. I was always afraid that lightning would strike me the moment I stepped through the door.

But today, I’m taking a step inside. Roman stands a little unsteadily on his feet. My arm is still wrapped around him as I lead him to the bed.

I take in his room, from the deep red and gold of the bed and walls to the wooden floors, large windows, and dark curtains. There’s a flat-screen TV on the wall, and a bookcase full of books in the far corner of the room. I know it’s not just decoration. Roman’s favorite hobby, besides recreational murder, is reading.