Miracle (The Pagano Family Book 6) (30 page)

“I won’t keep you long. It was rude of me to come unannounced, but I’ve been thinking of you so much these past weeks, and I should have come sooner, but I wasn’t sure…” She stopped and shook off the rest of that sentence. “Anyway, I was shopping today for Lia’s birthday, and I thought I remembered that your birthday’s in October, too. I’m not sure why I knew that. I asked Joey, and he said it was just a couple of days ago. I hope you don’t mind, but I picked up a little something for you, and I have a story to tell you that goes with it. If that’s okay.”

Stunned, Tina nodded.

“The story is a confidence that I hope you’ll keep, but I know you don’t owe me that.”

Another nod. She thought of the wall Joey had described so vividly. Yes, it was exactly like that. Alone on one side, unable to be known, while everyone on the other side set the terms for what was known.

“Years ago, before Nick and I were married, I got caught up in his business. People who wanted to hurt him came into the place I was working and held me and the people unfortunate enough to be around me hostage. They hurt my friends. Donnie Goretti among them. People call him the Face now. They beat me, and they raped me, and they cut me. Then they left us all for dead.”

Tina clasped her hands together to stop them from shaking. She had heard rumors about the way that Donnie Goretti had gotten to look the way he did, and that Bev had been hurt in Nick’s world, but those rumors had been shrouded in doubt and mystery—and hadn’t been close to this truth.

“It took me a long time to find my way back into the world, and I don’t think I’ve ever been the same. I know what you’re going through now is different, but I don’t think it’s possible to go through something like that, when something horrible is done to you, with intention, and not be changed forever. When someone means to do you so much harm, it changes how you see people. And how you see yourself. That’s true for me, at least.”

She rubbed at her wrist, over a tattoo she had there. Tina had always found it interesting that Bev had ink. She didn’t seem the type. But the tattoo was pretty and delicate: two airy little feathers.

Bev turned her arm up and showed that ink. “I got this tattoo long before I met Nick. It covers scars I made when I was young, when I tried to kill myself.”

Her tone as she said that was matter-of-fact. She didn’t even pause, so Tina tried to swallow her shock at both the confession and its content.

“I came to understand how stupid I had been to try something like that. The feathers remind me that we choose the weight of our burdens. We give our troubles power, or we deny it, but the choice is ours.” Staring down at her feathers, Bev took a long breath. “After Nick’s enemies hurt me, I forgot that for a long time. Not even the tattoo could remind me.”

She shook her wrist, showing a dainty rose gold chain. There was a small feather charm dangling from it. Not surprisingly, Bev wore several pieces of obviously expensive jewelry; that bracelet seemed the most modest. “Nick gave me this to help me remember. I haven’t taken it off since.”

Her eyes came up to Tina’s and held there for a few moments. Wow, they were so very blue, so deep and astute.

Then she reached into her bag and pulled out a small, flat leather box. “So I hope you’ll accept this, and I hope it offers some comfort. Happy birthday, Tina.”

When Tina reached for the box, her hands shook. Bev held on for a moment, and Tina felt the brush of her fingers.

Inside the box was a necklace: a delicate gold chain with a feather pendant. The feather wasn’t perfect; it was designed to seem as if it had been ruffled a few times.

Tina did not want to cry in front of Donna Pagano, but if she did anything, if she even lifted her eyes, she knew she would. So she stared at the feather and clamped down on her will.

“I’d like to say one more thing, and then I’ll show myself out. What happened to you—Nick is badly rocked. I don’t know much about his business, and I don’t care to. But I haven’t seen him like this since what happened to me. He’ll do whatever he can to help you, and to keep you safe from now on.” She stood. “Thank you for letting me interrupt your afternoon.”

Bev was out of the living room and almost to the door before Tina could move. Without being able to speak, she nearly had to run to catch her, and she grasped her arm as it reached for the door handle. Bev stopped and turned, and Tina hugged her.

After a surprised beat, Bev hugged her back, and then it was hopeless. Tina was sobbing, clutching the leather box.

Bev held her until she composed herself. When they stepped apart, Tina saw wet tracks down Donna Pagano’s cheeks.

“You
will
be okay, Tina. When you forget that your troubles are feathers, and their weight seems too much, let the people who love you help you carry them.”

~oOo~

When Joey got there that evening, Tina was in her room, playing with the kittens. She preferred being on her own these days; her silence was less oppressive when she was alone.

But her heart lightened when Joey knocked and came in. As he closed the door, she picked up his letter.

He set his tank pack on the floor near the door. Tina had not seen him use it even one time since she’d left the hospital. And there, she was fairly sure he’d only used it to sleep. He’d said nothing about it, and she couldn’t ask, but she wondered if he’d noticed.

He must have. But if so, he was being awfully blasé about what seemed major progress.

The kittens had bumbled their way over to him, and he crouched and gave them some attention. When he stood again and Tina had his attention, she pressed the pages of his letter to her chest.

He smiled and came to her. “You got it. …Not… …sappy?”

She shook her head and hugged the pages more tightly.

“…Mean it…all, baby. Love you. …Always here.”

Frustrated with its insufficiency, she gave him the best answer she could offer. She nodded.

He took the pages from her and set them on her desk. Then he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her.

As his tongue slid into her mouth, his hand eased back, into her wig. He stopped and leaned away, frowning.

“Don’t...” he tugged on the ends of the synthetic strands, and the wig eased away from her brow. She resisted the urge to flinch away, and she let him pull it off her head. “Not you.” He tossed it toward her desk, and it landed in a lump like a tribble on her closed laptop.

She wanted to tell him that this scarred, nearly bald head wasn’t her, either, that she didn’t know who the fuck was in her mirror, and she couldn’t
stand
that stranger, but she couldn’t. Anyway, his hands were smoothing gently over her head, caressing her, his fingers trailing down the back of her neck, and she couldn’t focus on anything but the love in his touch.

His fingers came around her neck, grazing the gold chain of her gift from Bev.

When he got to the feather, he lifted it, his brow furrowing. Then it smoothed, and he met her eyes. “Bev?”

She nodded and took the feather between her own fingers.

“She’s… … …” He shrugged. “Good.”

Yes, she was. It was confusing, actually. Her husband was fearsome and ruthless, and she seemed his opposite. Dark and light.

Setting the feather on her chest, Tina lifted her arms over Joey’s shoulders. She wanted to tell him what his letter meant to her, what
he
meant to her, but she only had one word she could say.

So she said it. “Mmmi-mi.”

It required a conscious effort to make the sounds, but those sounds made an actual word. A name, at least. One he’d given her, in a way.

“Tina?” The surprise and pleasure, the hope, in his eyes and his voice made her smile.

“Mi-mi.” It was easier in repetition.

“…Holy shit!...More?”

She shook her head. That was all she had.

His expression lost none of its brightness. “So good. Baby, so good!” He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off the floor. She tucked her head against his neck and held on as tightly as she could.

A sad state of affairs, that an infant’s word was such a source of excitement, but after weeks of hopeless silence, that one word, one sound repeated, was a lifetime of hope.

He smelled fantastic, a blend of aromas she’d come to know as his particular scent, as simply Joey, and she took a deep breath. His new beard brushed her cheek. She hoped he’d never shave again, because she adored its soft scratch on her skin.

Feeling the first touch of happiness since she’d been hurt, just gossamer filaments of contentment around her heart, Tina opened a mouth that had been sealed shut for weeks and kissed her man’s throat. She let her tongue taste his skin, and she pressed her body to him as if she could become one with him.

She knew what she wanted.

And he knew it, too. He didn’t need to hear words to know. He understood. He knew her.

And he needed to say very few to make sure. “Baby…” he groaned softly at her good ear, as his arms clenched around her. “Yeah?”

Oh yeah.

She nodded and brought her legs up. As she did, he shifted his grip on her and caught them, then turned and carried her to her bed.

He held her cradled around him until she was fully on the bed and he was above her, then he raised his head. His hazel eyes studied her, and she knew he was making sure she was okay.

To answer him, she tangled her fingers in his hair and brought his head down to hers. Accepting her answer, he claimed her mouth with a groan.

Not since before the night of the storm had they been close like this. It was more than her broken body that had kept them apart. It was her broken mind as well. What those men had done to her, even though they hadn’t raped her or touched her at all in that way, had been a violation nonetheless, and they’d altered her permanently, fundamentally. They’d taken her away from herself.

It was difficult to offer what was left when she understood it so little herself.

A touch of comfort was one thing; she’d craved Joey’s presence, his proximity, from the moment she’d woken. She’d needed him to hold her hand, to keep his hands on her body, to tether her to the world and love and trust.

Comfort was something offered. Desire was something asked. And that kind of touch had been difficult to fathom, until this moment. Her broken body, especially her jaw, had offered her a shield against that challenge, and Joey would never have pushed in any event. But now, Tina was ready.

He moved away, off the bed. Standing, his eyes on hers, he stripped, dropping each item of clothing to the floor until he was naked, his body firm and gorgeous. His erect cock stood out, reaching toward her. While he watched, stroking himself, she shimmied out of her leggings, his t-shirt, her bra, and dropped her clothes to the side with his.

His eyes flared and gleamed, and his cock swelled even more. He groaned, and in the echo of that sound and the light of his eyes, Tina, for the first time in weeks, felt beautiful. Her drooping eye and strange nose, her missing hair, her scars—none of it mattered. All that mattered in the world was Joey stretching out beside her, taking her into his arms, bending his head to set his lips on her breast, at the edge of her areola, the lightest touch, just a feather of a kiss.

She turned and hooked her leg over his hip. His cock brushed between her thighs, and he flexed, the motion seeming beyond his control.

“Tina,” he breathed, his mouth skimming her nipple.

With a gentle push, he returned her to her back. Holding himself above her, he kissed her entire body, tender tastes of her breast, over her side, her belly, down her leg, all the way to her ankle, her foot, her toes, then back up the other side, a mirror image of all those delightfully light kisses. He paused between her legs and brushed his nose over her clit, back and forth, back and forth, until every nerve and muscle she had quivered, and every breath that left her body was a needy whine.