I took two back and he stopped.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured.

That’s how I liked him to call me “sweetheart”.

But I shook my head and I told him, “It’s over.”

He blinked, slow, then asked, “What?”

“I’m sellin’ the house. The girls and me are movin’ to Arizona.”

“Honey.”

I was still shaking my head. “He’ll f**k with me, Mike. He killed Tim, he killed Sam and, still, he’ll f**k with me.”

Mike moved forward, I moved back but he came at me faster and caught me in his arms. I forgot why I was retreating, put my hands to his chest and dropped my forehead between them.

“I can’t do this anymore,” I whispered. “You, Joe, Bea, Mel, Mom bein’ a bitch, buryin’ Sam, Vinnie, Theresa, Manny, Benny, Daniel Hart, it’s all too much. I can’t do this anymore.”

Mike was quiet, he just held me in his arms as I fought back the tears.

When I won and did it on a sigh, he spoke. “Darlin’, I don’t even know who half those people are.”

The way he said it, I laughed, turned my head and pressed my cheek to his chest.

Then I wrapped my arms around his waist and his arms got tighter.

“I was a dick,” he said into my hair, “comin’ in here, givin’ you that shit.”

I let him off the hook. “You weren’t. You were just a man.”

“Well, yeah, I am that.”

I pressed my cheek closer and gave him a squeeze. “Yeah.”

“Girls aren’t here, want you with me tonight.”

I closed my eyes and didn’t lift my head, nor loosen my arms when I said with all seriousness, “Mike, I wasn’t joking. I need to let you go.”

I felt his body grow still when he asked, “Why?”

I tipped my head back then and said, “In case you hadn’t noticed, men in my life end up with bullets in their heads.”

“Sweetheart –”

“And I’m entirely f**ked up.”

“Vi.”

I took an arm from his waist, placed my hand against his cheek and whispered, “And you deserve better than that.”

“How ‘bout you let me make that decision?” he whispered back.

“Mike, I repeat, I’m entirely f**ked up.”

“Sweetheart, I already know that,” he grinned, “and, f**k me, but I kinda like it.”

“Mike –”

“It’s cute.”

Finally, I gave him the truth. “And there’s somethin’ I need to work out with Joe and I don’t want you feelin’ on a string while I work it out.”

His arms spasmed and that muscle leapt again in his jaw.

“What?” he whispered.

My hand at his cheek slid to his neck and I said, “Not that, not what you’re thinking. But we gotta get something clear and, I know Joe, that’ll take some doing.”

“Violet.”

“I got four days, the girls are gone, I got four days to do it. Can you give me that?”

“No.”

“Mike –”

“Vi, you’re in my bed tonight.”

“Mike, listen to –”

His arms gave me a shut up squeeze so I did and he said, “No, Vi, you listen to me. You work it out with him. Talk. I don’t give a f**k what it’s about, don’t wanna know. You come to my house tonight and you come prepared to spend the night.”

Yep, he was getting impatient, staking his claim.

“Mike, I don’t think –”

“And don’t f**kin’ bring one of his shirts. You sleep in tees, you wear one of mine.”

“But –”

“And you take it home too.”

Shit and damn. Joe was home a few days and my brother was f**king dead, I’d been semi-adopted by an Italian family in Chicago, my girls were back under his spell and I was back in this unholy mess.

“I’m not ready for that.”

“Yeah, you are and I am and he can have your days, you need to work shit out with him, but, while the girls are gone, I have your nights.”

“What if we –”

“I want you safe. I wanna know you’re safe and the only way I’ll know that is you in my bed. He and Colt can keep watch durin’ the day but I’m tellin’ you, Vi, I get the nights.”

“Mike –”

He didn’t let me finish again, this time he kissed me. Not his straight-to-fiery kiss, this one was a stealth one, light and sweet, building the fire.

I ended it with my arms wrapped around his neck.

“Six o’clock, sweetheart,” he whispered, “come on in, the door’ll be open.”

“Okay,” I whispered back, because I was a total, complete idiot.

Then, just like Mike, he gave it to me honest.

“You don’t get this, Vi, so I’ll tell you. I’m fallin’ for you.” I closed my eyes. Mike kissed them in turn and I opened them again. “I know you don’t need that, sweetheart, but then again, you need it all the same.”

This didn’t make sense but it totally did.

I gave it back to him, just as honest.

“Mike, you deserve the best and I’m not sure that’s me.”

He just grinned, gave me a squeeze, kissed my forehead and repeated, “Six o’clock, door’ll be open.”

Then he let me go, turned and left.

I stared at the door.

Then I walked to it and armed the alarm.

Then I went to my cold cup of coffee, nuked it and stood in my kitchen, staring out my kitchen window, watching three men now carrying out to the dumpster what seemed to be Joe’s entire freaking kitchen and while I did this I drank my coffee.

* * * * *

After I had a shower, I spritzed with my perfume, put on light makeup, my Lucky jeans and a blouse I always liked. The cotton looked almost tie-dyed, all in deep shades of grape, the split at the neckline was embroidered with green, lilac, lavender and blue flowers and there were braided strings hanging down from the top sides of the split, their weight holding it open. It fit loose but had an elastic waistband and elastic at the cap sleeves. It was kinda Heidi and kinda rock ‘n’ roll. I loved it, it made me feel good and I needed that in a big, honking way.

Then I picked up my phone, scrolled down to “Joe’s cell” and hit go.

He picked up on ring two.

“Yo.”

“It’s Violet. We need to talk. Come over.”