“How old were you?”
“Eleven, maybe? I can’t remember. I started staying out all night to avoid him, and my mum liked it that way because she didn’t want the hassle of us fighting.”
“She knew you fought?”
“Yeah, but she figured we were as bad as each other.”
“You were a child.”
“I was tall. With a fucking mouth on me. Maybe I deserved it.”
Rage like no other flared in Mickey’s blood. He wanted to tell Benito that no matter how hard he’d run his mouth, no kid deserved seven bells of shit kicked out of them by an adult who was supposed to keep them safe. But he didn’t. He said nothing. Because whatever wisdom he wanted to spout to makehimselffeel better, Benito didn’t need it. “He still sees Gianna?”
Benito nodded. “He’s never laid a finger on her, though.”
“That’s something, I suppose.”
“I wish he was dead,” Benito retorted flatly.
Me too. The conversation dried up. Benito folded his arms and hid his face in them. He didn’t seem particularly upset, but what did Mickey know? This was the fourth time they’d met. Benito could’ve been falling to bits inside and he’d have no idea.
Don’t touch him.
The internal warning came too late. Mickey rubbed Benito’s shoulder, then let his hand slide to his neck. He drew his thumb over smooth skin, forward and back, resisting the urge to tangle his fingers into Benito’s soft, dark hair. “I wish things were different,” he said. “I wish life was better for you, and for me, so we could fit together, but I can’t be around you if you’re still living the life I think you are, and... fuck, I’ve got nothing for you anyway. I’m a shit human.”
A low sound rumbled out of Benito. He raised his head a fraction, showing Mickey his reddened eyes, gaze so fierce it was clear who’d taught Gianna to glare fire at anyone stupid enough to cross her. “You’re not a shit human.”
“You don’t know me.”
“Then fucking show me who you are. Don’t act like I don’t want to know.”
“It doesn’t matter. It can’t happen. I already told you—”
Benito gripped Mickey’s hand and pried it from his neck, lacing their fingers together. “You told me how youthinkI live my life. I told you I’m a taxi driver. One of us is wrong.”
“Or lying.”
“I have some fucking loose ends to tie up. Don’t write me off.”
“I have to. You’re my tenant’s son.”
“And I’m a gangbanger. A dirty road man with deep pockets and a fucking piece in my waistband. Fuck you, man.” Benito lurched to his feet, wrenching their hands apart.
His scowl was terrifying, but Mickey faced it down.It’s better this way.
Benito gathered his things from the table. He looked as though he had more to say, but the silence was deafening.
He turned to leave.
Mickey caught his arm. “I’d never write you off. It’sme, don’t you get it? I’m gonna do everything I can to help your mum and your sister, but I can’t see you again, not like this.”
The heat drained from Benito’s glare, leaving cold resignation in its place. He shrugged Mickey’s hand from his arm and left.