“Do you miss your son, Alessio?”
“Every day of my life, but I raised a good man. I have no regrets. Sometimes, we do what we think is best for those we love. Sometimes, we’re right. Sometimes, we’re wrong.”
“Do you ever think what you’ve done is wrong?”
He looked over at me. “Alessandro, it doesn’t matter. None of it does. Survival is what matters. So do it. Survive. Not all will, and that’s where the victory lies. When you’re the last one standing, you have the power. You’re the one at the top. Eventually, you’ll get to take what you want if you survive. There will be none left to oppose you.”
“What did you get when you survived?”
“I’m still surviving.” He looked out the window. “Now, let’s get some food. I do not enjoy being hungry.”
I sighed before putting the car into gear and peeling out, kicking rocks and dirt behind us.
Survival mode.
I supposed it was just as well. It was all I’d ever known anyway.
TWENTY-EIGHT
COLE
Two weeks.
Two fucking weeks since I’d said words I hadn’t meant. It was killing me, and I was too embarrassed by my actions and sick to my stomach to do anything to fix it. Fox was home, but he avoided me. I avoided him. E was back in the basement. The only bright patch was that Rosalie was talking to us again, and she and Enzo had been awfully cozy since she’d kicked his ass.
In fact, they’d left earlier in the day to go out together to do wedding stuff, leaving me alone with the guys. Like always, E was in the basement.
Deciding I should try to eat something, I wandered into the kitchen to find Fox sitting at the island, eating a bowl of macaroni and cheese.
He glanced over at me as I walked to the fridge and pulled it open to find it was nearly empty. I hated grocery shopping and always avoided doing it. I guess I’d been avoiding it for too long at this point. Grocery shopping seemed like a good idea if it meant I could get the fuck out of the kitchen and away from Fox and my regrets.
Sighing, I closed the doors to the fridge and glanced at the pan of leftover macaroni and cheese still on the stove.
“Eat,” Fox muttered. “I made extra.”
I hesitated for a moment before going to the watery mess. Fox wasn’t a good cook, but I was so hungry I’d eat the asshole out of a dead deer if it meant I could get something in my gut.
Carefully, I scooped some of the soupy macaroni and cheese into a bowl, then sat across from him and ate.
Neither of us said a word. I couldn’t stand it. It was eating at me.
We both finished, and Fox got up. He went to the sink and washed his bowl before putting it into the drainboard. I watched him make to leave before I decided I had to do something.
“Hey, Fox,” I blurted out.
He stopped and turned to me, his blue eyes rimmed in red. He was completely exhausted. That much was certain. So was I. Enough was enough. I needed to make this right.
I stumbled to my feet and went around the island to him.
“About the other day?—”
He held his hand up to silence me.
“Cole, it’s over. It doesn’t matter, OK?”
“It does matter. I was out of line. I-I…” My voice trailed off.
“You were right.”
