“It’s Gianna.”
“All right,Gianna. Go tell your mum I’m here, so she can decide if she wants you hanging out on the landing with me.”
“She won’t care.”
“Tell her anyway.”
Rolling her eyes, Gianna stood and unlocked the front door. She pushed it open, giving Mickey his first glimpse of the De Luca flat in months. The narrow gap gifted him the perfect view of clean white walls and spotless floors, and he breathed a subtle sigh of relief. Inspecting the property was next on his list after securing the rent, but he’d put off forcing the issue for months, trusting his gut that Mrs De Luca was as house-proud as she’d always been, even if she allowed no one to see her home. If he was wrong about everything else, at least he’d called that right.
Stifling a sigh, Mickey scooted to the top step of the landing and leant against the metal banister. Truth be told, he wasn’t that sad about dodging a trip to London and back before his work week could end, but he was tired, his brain more than his body, and his monthly sit-downs with Dom always set him straight again. Dom was softer than Isha, and it made Mickey feel better about his own bleeding heart.Am I fucking this up?
“I brought you coffee.”
Mickey blinked. Gianna had returned with a steaming mug of black coffee. He cupped his hands around it and took a deep sniff. “Wow. Thanks. You didn’t have to do that. Did you tell your mum I was here?”
“She’s asleep. I think she took some of her tablets.”
“Some?”
“Two. That’s the dose.”
“What tablets are they?”
“I don’t know. She says they’re for her nerves, but she hasn’t been to the doctor since last year. I googled the name, but I can’t remember what it said.”
Mickey absorbed that, filing it away for investigation later. The council would be easier to negotiate with if he could plead a mental health issue, but he could only do that with Mrs De Luca’s permission. Which meant talking to her, something he’d failed spectacularly at for so long it had come to camping out on the landing with a young child. “Is there anything else?” he pressed carefully. “Anything that would help your mum for me to know? If she’s unwell, perhaps her GP could write her a letter?”
“I already told you she won’t go to the doctor.” Gianna flashed him a scowl that could make grown men cry. “You need to talk to my brother.”
“Could you maybe call him? Ask him how long he’ll be?”
“I did. He didn’t answer. Maybe he’s driving.”
Mickey let it go and sat back against the banister again, sipping the rocket-fuel coffee Gianna had brought him. The caffeine bulldozed the fog from his brain, leaving jittery fingers in its place. He scrolled through his phone to keep them busy, scanning the news and Spotify playlists. Trying to build his own gave him a different kind of headache, but it was something to do.
Gianna sat by her front door, guarding and glaring. She was fierce, a lioness. In different circumstances, Mickey might’ve smiled, but there was no humour here. Not until her mythical brother made an appearance with enough cash to send Mickey away.
How much is enough?
Thirty minutes later, when footsteps finally sounded on the stairs below, he still had no idea.
Gianna scrambled to her feet and dashed to the banister, leaning so far over Mickey was scared she’d fall.
“Whoa.” Mickey stood too. “Don’t do that. We’ll see soon enough if it’s him.”
Gianna ignored him and ducked under his outstretched arm to pelt down the stairs. Bemused, Mickey followed, keeping tabs on her dark hair as she flew to the next landing.
He heard the impact of her body hitting another before he saw the tall figure she’d collided with.
Gianna locked her slender arms around the man’s neck. He was wearing Yeezy trainers and Nike sweatpants. He had strong arms, tattooed skin, and dark hair, just like his sister. And the familiarity was more than that. More than the disbelief and incredulity. More than the leaden, painful scrape of Mickey’s heart as Gianna’s brother set her on her feet and raised his gaze.
No. It can’t be.But as molten eyes found Mickey’s, hooded with the flat kind of despair that came with whatever mountain he’d climbed to get here, there was no mistaking the chiselled, unshaven jaw Mickey had committed to memory. The high cheekbones and killer shoulders. The bewildered scowl that cut Mickey to the bone.
Fuck.Mickey marbleised, frozen in place, gaze flitting between Benito’s stricken confusion and the muddy envelope clutched in his hand.Did he get that from a fucking swamp?It made as much sense as Benito’s sudden presence in the stairwell.
A thudding beat of silence drowned them, closing in the grimy walls. Benito’s free hand curled slowly into a fist. Chaos reached his dark stare, matching the riot in Mickey’s brain. He drew back from Gianna and pulled her behind him, lips curling into a sneer. “Gonna ask you this once, then it’s fuckingon. Thefuckare you doing here, man?”
* * *