Chapter 3

JULIAN’S POV

         The last time I saw Mother angry, I was probably still struggling to pronounce words properly. In this dark world, she was the ray of sunshine. I loved how she loved me and tried to protect me but there's only so much she could do. My hands moved quickly as I piled the plates together. I felt him hovering above me before I saw his shadow. We reached for a plate together and our hands brushed briefly. I pulled back like I had been shocked.

“Let me help you.” His breath fanned my face. I wanted to lean in and press my lips against his.

“I’m fine,” I stuttered. “It’s nothing much.”

He picked up the napkins and started wiping the table. His presence now that he was barely five inches away from me was suffocating. I struggled to focus on the plates but my eyes kept travelling to him. He smelled like spices and wood, intoxicatingly male and heat poured out from his pores. It was the kind of heat I wanted to be wrapped in.

“Law,” He dragged out the word. “You’ve always had a sharp mouth and an eye for detail though.”

My lips thinned and my throat tightened. I didn't like that he talked to me like he knew me. He didn't. “I was a child,” I bit out.

“You still are,” He shrugged.

“I’m twenty-two.”

“Only being an adult for four years and I can swear you've barely done any adult shit.”

I grounded my molars and walked away with the plates and glasses. He came into the kitchen as I placed the plates in the dishwasher.

“Ever held a gun?”

I glanced at him. “I don't want a bullet lodged in my chest.”

His lips curled in a tight smile. It wasn't kind.

“Right. We'll see how much cases you can cover under my roof.”

I stood still, wondering if I had just been threatened. I opened my mouth to reply him but I couldn't find the words. Instead, half formed protests stumbled out.

“Goodnight.” He walked past me and brushed his shoulder against mine. To someone else, it might look like a little mistake but the delicious lick in my stomach was proving otherwise. I grabbed the counter as my knees threatened to fail me.

        Once the dishes were done, I turned off the lights and headed to my room but in the hallway, something caught me in my tracks. My parents voice from their bedroom. They never argued but right now, their voices carried so much tension. My heart jumped to my throat as I took quiet steps towards the door. I pressed myself against the door, hoping no one would open it.

“I know you love him but you can't pretend like you know him,” Father said.

“He’s family. Dante is my brother.”

“He was adopted. You don't know that man.”

“Don’t be like that, Aldo.” Mother's voice was pleading.

“Orabella, you can't be this naive,” Father's voice curled like smoke. “He is not the same boy you knew. That man out there is dangerous. You saw him out there.”

“Whatever he has become, he is still my brother Aldo.”

There was silence and I pressed closer into the door. Father scoffed and then laughed dryly.

“Family does not slaughter and disappear when you need them the most.”

The word ‘slaughter’ caused a chill to rub down my spine.

“He was a child,” Mother hissed. “He was thrown into something like that before he could even stand on his feet, Aldo. Do you think you could have handled it any better? You think you would have survived differently?”

“Yes,” Father raised his voice now. My heart raced. They had their moments but they never argued like this. “I would have survived because I had boundaries and I respected the boundaries of others. Dante does not know lines he should never  cross and you keep covering for him.”

The silence stretched and I could almost see them through the door. Father would be pacing around like an animal locked up and mother would play with her fingers.

“Julian would be safer with him.”

“He wouldn't,” Father snapped. “You can't shield this boy all his life and just deliver him to wolves.”

“Dante would never let any harm come to him. You know that. He loves the boy.”

I clenched my fist. Why did they still talk about me like I never stopped being five?

“I would never let harm come to my son.”

Mother sighed. She replied to him but her voice was muffled. The floorboard creaked under my weight and I tiptoed back to my room. I lay in bed staring at the ceiling. I couldn't sleep and the house didn't sleep either.

The walls groaned and the roof creaked. Somewhere in the house, a faulty pipe dripped to the floors but it wasn't the sounds of the house that kept me awake. It was the man that just returned it. The myth of who he was and what he could do.

I turned around in bed, the sheets tangled at my feet. Scenes from dinner replayed in my mind. Dante’s smirk, the way his eyes lingered on me and the moment our skins touched. I closed my eyes briefly. I should not be feeling this way. He was my uncle and aside from that, he was a dangerous man.

Staying with family should have been nothing but there was something they weren't telling me. The way father's lips had thinned and the final outburst. Nothing about Dante was just nothing. Since sleep had eluded me, I decided to return to my cases. I went to my table and turned on my laptop, pulling my journal closer. My eyes flicked between the screen and my journal. Essays, outlines and case briefs but the words blurred together and formed Dante’s face. I inhaled and tried to focus again. I begged my brain to focus on the familiar black and white of law. Law was supposed to separate good from evil but when it came to a family like ours, the lines blurred.  I exhaled and pinched the bridge of my nose. The memories I had managed to keep buried returned to me like a hungry child.

                    ************

I was twelve and Dante, twenty-four. He was the coolest person I knew. I sat on the balcony waiting for him to return home. When he did, there were blood stains on his knuckles.

“Dante,” Mother called, her eyes questioning him. He didn't say a word. He just headed to the garden at the back. I trailed behind him like a shadow.

He sat on the chair and pulled a cigarette from his pocket.

“Mummy said the flowers don't like the smell of that,” I pouted.

He groaned. His eyes were tired and dark but when they landed on me, they softened.

“The plants don't care about the smell of cigarettes. Do you?” He asked as he let out the smoke from his mouth. It curled in the air and vanished. I hated it. The smell made me want to throw up and tear my nostrils apart but I stayed anyway cos being in his presence was more important. That was the first time I admitted to myself that I admired him. And that night I had cried myself to sleep because that admiration felt like sin.

                     ************

I glanced at my bedside clock. It was a few minutes to five am. My body was exhausted but my mind had refused to be still. I sighed and slipped on a clean shirt. As I got to the last footing, I saw him. Dante. He looked like he had been there all night and if he wasn't wearing a fresh set of clothes, I could have sworn dinner never ended. He had a newspaper in his face and tea in Father's favourite mug. The dining room still smelled lightly of last night's duck and the coffee Dante was having. I turned around and tried to tiptoe back to my room.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

His voice startled me and I froze. He had not dropped the newspaper but he somehow knew I was there. He finally dropped the paper.

“I.. it's…” I stuttered. “Yes.”

“Me too. Come here.”

I blinked quickly. He raised a brow. “I hear law students are always in their heads. Come here,” he tapped the seat beside him.

“You sound like you disapprove,” I shot at him surprising myself.

“Disapprove?” He leaned back and stroked his beards. “Much more like I question.”

“What’s your question?” I stepped forward.

“Why you want to catch criminals when you can just defend them? You want to do the good guy stuff?”

“Mother says…”

“Mother would always say. I know how my sister can be,” He got off his seat and started walking towards me. I wanted to back off but my feet felt rooted to the ground. As he came closer, the air seemed to grow thin.

He was standing close now. Too close. “Law school and internships teach you to argue but arguing isn't winning, Julian.”

He raised my chin with his finger until I was staring at him. “It takes more than that.”

“What does it take?” I managed to ask despite how fast my heart was racing within me.

He leaned closer, his lips brushing my ears. “You’ll find out.”

“What makes now not a good time?” I shot at him. I took a step forwards until our lips were an inch apart. He brushed his lips against mine and I felt my knees grow weak.

“Easy boy.” His voice was a growl from somewhere within his belly.