Rocco took a second to stare into his own drink, as if contemplating. “Your family sounds like good stock. Even if your mother didn’t immediately approve of your career choice.” His lips kicked up in a flash of a grin.
Alessa relaxed again.
“Sorry for the wait!” Their fifty-something waitress in an undersized, retro uniform practically did a pirouette as she appeared at their table, a tray of food on one shoulder and a pot of coffee in her other hand. “Refills, too?” Her heavily made-up eyes darted between them but she didn’t actually wait for a response before tipping the pot to pour the drink into Alessa’s waiting cup.
Rocco slid his mug over for a refill as well and conversation lulled until the food was settled, the mugs topped off, and the flouncy woman was again out of earshot.
Alessa drew a lungful of the combined greasy, baked aromas and her stomach rumbled. She hadn’t done more than nibble on anything for dinner the night before, and considering the unexpected activities that had followed, she was actually starving. She reached for her fork when she realized one other thing and her lungs froze. Her entire body went stiff with shock.
It was arguably stupid.
Rocco set down the potato-laden forkful in his hand, his brow furrowing. “Alessa?”
She could do absolutely nothing about the tears suddenly burning her eyes. “I … slept.”
His frown deepened. “Eventually, yeah.”
“No, you don’t—” She sucked in a breath, determined not to have the strangest meltdown ever over something so mundane. “I mean, I didn’t have any nightmares. Or wake up screaming, or sobbing.”
Rocco’s visible hand curled into a fist. “Do you usually?” There was a hardened edge to his tone, but she wasn’t in the mindset to analyze it.
She barely managed not to sniffle like a child when the first tear rolled free, dripping down her cheek. All she could do was answer truthfully. “Sometimes I’ll sedate myself,” she said, her voice quiet and choked. “But the nightmares the next night are usually worse, so I don’t like to do that. If I don’t, though … every night.” She swallowed a building lump in her throat. “Every night since—”
Al’s face flashed through her mind, followed swiftly by the image she’d put together on her own of him dead in that SUV. Both of those were followed by the all-too-real closed casket she’d watched her mother collapse on.
Rocco was suddenly sliding into the booth next to her, crowding her, curling his arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side. “You don’t have to tell me, beautiful,” he said gently. “If it hurts like this, you don’t ever have to say the words.” He pressed a hard, lingering kiss to the top of her head. “But that sedation shit is done. That’s not healthy.”
Alessa let herself lean on him as she fought off the worst of the tears, the worst of the emotional meltdown. She struggledto breathe, but every breath she managed to draw smelled of Rocco—albeit accented with the cheap bodywash she tended to grab at the department store. Regardless, the scent, and the feel of his arms around her, was comforting. Soothing. On her own she probably would have succumbed, or at least failed to do more than make herself numb.
With Rocco’s comfort, though, her brunch was still warm by the time she found the strength to lift her fork and take a bite. And it wasn’t until after that first bite had reawakened her appetite that she realized he’d pulled his plate over so he could stay beside her when they resumed eating—which he didn’t seem to have done until she had.
She did her best to hide her smile at that.
Alessa tilted her head into his shoulder after they’d polished off most of the meal. He hadn’t left her side, or even removed his arm from around her. The little girl who’d romanticized life itself and certainly everything about the world around her, the same little girl Alessa thought she had outgrown, couldn’t help but swoon. “Mom would really like you.”
It wasn’t until Rocco chuckled quietly and lowered his arm a little around her waist, so that his hand could rest on her hip, that she realized she’d spoken aloud. “Yeah?” He turned his head and her hair ruffled some more as he kissed just above her temple. “Good to know.”
She blamed the emotional rollercoaster of a morning on why it felt like her heart actually skipped a damn beat in her chest.
Chapter nine
Even. If.
Alessa needed to gether shit together in the worst way.
One night of wild, uninhibited sex was bad enough. Worse, considering that her partner of choice was the underboss for another family. Allied or not, if she didn’t draw lines and stick to her job, it would be damn easy to slap a label and a target on her head.
Going on anything resembling a date and feeling swoony, heart-eyed emotions when she could and should have been beating the pavement made it clearthat her head was not screwed on right. Because she was no traitor. And, really, those were the only two options that explained her behavior.
She was enjoying spending time with Rocco. She was enjoying it too much. What she needed to be doing was locking Erik Gwathney in an unpleasant room until he either called off his rabid dog or forced her to put him down. Not that she wouldn’t be doing the latter, anyway. But it would work out better for a lot of people if he formally rescinded his interest in that particular debt first.
Alessa patted her face one more time with the paper towel before wading it up and tossing it into the bathroom garbage. She needed to get her head on straight, but there was a part of her that felt a lot more composed than she had in a while. It scared her a little to think of the implications in that.
Just focus on work.She repeated the words like a mantra in her head as she navigated her way out of the restroom, and out of the diner.
Rocco’s head swiveled her way as soon as she stepped outside and his lips lifted in a soft smile. He straightened from where he’d been leaning against the SUV, but otherwise waited for her to reach them. “Ready?”
Alessa bobbed her head. The motion was a little more fluid than it should have been, as if she were eager.What is he doing to me?
