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“Time to play in the snow!”

Everyone jumped up at once as Dominic shouted those words, and Haven just sat there when they ran from the room. Celia laughed. “Aren’t you joining them?”

“Am I supposed to?” Haven asked, looking to Dr. DeMarco for direction, but he said nothing, his expression giving her no hint.

“If you want to,” Celia said, “but you’ll need to bundle up.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She headed upstairs, finding Carmine waiting for her. Haven put on some extra clothes before grabbing her coat. She wore so many layers she had a hard time walking down the stairs. The group headed for the back door, and Dominic collapsed to the ground right away, sending white stuff flying everywhere. He formed snowballs to pelt Carmine with, and Haven laughed as he threw some back. The fighting got out of control quickly. Haven ducked as Dia ran, snowballs barely missing them both. Tess wasn’t lucky, though, and one slammed her in the chest.

Dia wandered off to snap pictures as Haven crouched down, running her hand through a pile of snow. She could feel the coldness through her gloves, the air chilly against her flushed face. She watched it drift through her fingers, captivated by the way it crunched when she made a fist.

The burden on her heart lessened. Just for a while, she allowed her guilt to ease.

Carmine strolled over to her. “Wanna go for a walk, tesoro?”

She nodded and trudged through the snow behind him. They hit the tree line, and Carmine took her gloved hand as they walked out toward the creek. He paused a foot away from it and glanced down at the rushing water, a look of longing embedded in his features. She stared at him, and he must have sensed her gaze, because he smirked after a second. “Like something you see?”

She nudged him. “You know I do.”

They stood under the trees, hand in hand, as two squirrels ran by. Haven watched as they chased each other through the snow before scaling the tree beside them and leaping onto a branch. She ducked, realizing what they were doing, but Carmine was too slow. He looked up in time for one of the squirrels to hit a pile of snow and send it flying into his face.

“Son of a bitch!” he said, pulling his hand from hers to brush the snow away. She laughed as she watched him, and he cut his eyes to her. “Something funny?”

She bit her lip to hold in the laughter. The moment she finally got herself under control, the squirrel came running along the tree again, more of the snow falling onto Carmine.

There was a mischievous glint in Carmine’s eye when Haven laughed again. She turned to run as he started toward her, recognizing the expression from the fiasco with the dishwasher, but she only got a few steps away before her foot caught on something. She fell into the snow face-first, a rush of cold instantly overtaking her body.

“See?” Carmine said. “That’s what happens when you laugh at me.”

She rolled over to look at him and tossed a handful of snow at his chest. “And that’s what happens when you laugh at me.”

He chuckled, pulling her to her feet. “You’re covered now.”

She shrugged. “It’s just water.”

“Just water? You can get frostbitten, or sick, or even pneumonia. Fuck, there’s hypothermia. All sorts of things could happen. You might lose a toe.”

“Carmine, I was born prematurely in the horse stables, and I survived. I’ve had the daylights beaten out of me, and I survived. I’ve had a gun shoved against my throat, and I survived. It’s frozen water . . . I’ll survive.”

“So you’re saying you’re a survivor again?”

“Yes,” she said. “And I just got my thesaurus, so I haven’t had time to find other words for it.”

“Carry on,” he said. “Keep living. Remain alive.”

“Aren’t they definitions?”

“Synonym, definition . . . same difference. It’s just a technicality.”

Staring at him, Haven fought back her laughter again. “I don’t think that’s the word you want.”

He ignored her. “You know, I was premature too. A few weeks early. My mom always wanted a bunch of kids, but they stopped after me. I never understood why.”

His voice was wistful. Haven closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Maybe they realized they created perfection with you and didn’t need any more.”

“I’m far from perfect, Haven,” he said. “I have more flaws than I do good parts.”

“You have flaws, but that’s part of what makes you wonderful. You are perfect—perfect for me.” She reached up on her tiptoes and kissed him softly before whispering against his lips. “Besides, flaws, no flaws, perfect, not perfect . . . they’re probably just technicalities, too.”

The sound of Carmine’s laughter warmed her frozen skin.

24

Vincent stood in the family room, gazing into the backyard at the kids playing in the snow. He couldn’t recall the last time he saw both of his boys happy at the same time. For years he watched his youngest in a perpetual state of turmoil, his soul broken and heart torn. Vincent blamed himself for that, for not doing more to ease his worries.

His child, so much like Maura—Vincent had failed him long ago.

Celia stood beside Vincent. “Carmine was playing the piano this morning.”

“Moonlight Sonata?”

“No.” Vincent could hear the smile in her voice. “Jingle Bells.”

“Interesting.”

“Interesting is right,” she said. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”

He knew what she was referring to by the look on her face. “What did you want me to say? That my son is an idiot?”

Celia jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow. “Don’t call him that. He cares about her.”

“She’s a novelty,” Vincent said. “The newness will wear off, and he’ll move on.”

“Oh, give me a break. Even you don’t believe that.”

“One can always hope.”

She shook her head. “They make each other happy.”

“They’re both idiots.”

“Vincent!” Celia pushed him. He stumbled a few steps and snickered as Celia grabbed his arm again. “So, what are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t know.” It was the truth; he had no idea how to handle the situation. “I considered sending her to Chicago.”

“We would’ve taken her.” He looked at Celia skeptically, and she smiled. “I would’ve convinced Corrado somehow.”

Vincent doubted even Celia could have talked him into getting involved. He’d been refusing to intervene for years, and Vincent couldn’t blame him. It was a disaster.

“It doesn’t matter now. I missed my window of opportunity.”

“Vincent, you’re a fool if you believe you ever had a window of opportunity.”

He didn’t respond. There was nothing to say. His sister was right, but he didn’t want to admit it.

He’d known for a while what was happening. He’d feared the worst that first morning until he heard what his son said when he let go of Haven’s wrist. It was such a simple word, a word most people used needlessly, but a powerful word to people like them. It was something Carmine hadn’t said since he was an innocent eight-year-old child, ignorant of the world’s troubles, but he’d uttered it that morning so casually, so nonchalantly, that Vincent wondered if he knew what he was saying.

The word was sorry.

It was a word even Vincent couldn’t bring himself to say. His sister would say he was a good man, a decent man with a heart full of compassion, and Maura would have said the same thing. She never saw the evil inside him. Neither of them did.

When his wife was stolen from him, the blackness took over. He became possessed by it, consumed by anger and guilt. No matter how many people he killed in his quest for vengeance, his thirst for blood never went away. That timid brown-haired girl, the one his youngest had grown fond of, almost became a casualty in his need for retaliation.

Vincent pulled away from Celia and sat down, rubbing his face in frustration. Celia sat across from him and laughed. “It’s cute how slick they think they are. Reminds me of how you and—”

“Stop!” he said. Celia cut off midsentence and playfully pretended to zip her lips. “There’s nothing cute about any of this.”

“Oh, come on. It is cute! And why can’t you let them be?”

“You know why,” he said. “You can’t honestly think it’s smart for them to be together.”

Celia glared at him. “Shouldn’t that be their decision?”

“They don’t know any better.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Maybe you should explain. Tell him the truth.”

He laughed bitterly. “The truth, Celia? Exactly which truth are you talking about? Do you want me to tell him all of it, even the part that’s going to hurt? He’s a lot like me now, and you have to admit there’s a possibility he might snap. Carmine and I barely have a relationship as it is, and this could ruin the last bit we have left. Is that what you want?”

“You know it’s not.”

“Right, you want me to tell him enough of the truth to make him believe it’s okay for them to be together, but I can’t mislead him with bits and pieces. It’s all or nothing.”

She frowned. “I wish there was a way.”

“I know,” he said. “I’ve been trying to find some middle ground in the whole thing, but I’m not seeing a way out of this. I know what I’m supposed to do, but the potential wrath that might come down on us is too much to bear. Not to mention it would be throwing the girl to the wolves. And if that happens, I can’t imagine the lengths my son will go to for her.”

“You can’t dwell on the what-ifs, Vincent.”

“I always dwell on them,” he said. “I barely sleep at night, wondering how one little thing could have changed it all. What if I hadn’t taken Maura that weekend? What if we had gone earlier? What if we had gone later? Why did we have to be at that exact spot at that exact moment?”

“If that day hadn’t happened, that girl outside would be dead. You’re saving her, and she’s healing him.”

He shook his head. “If we hadn’t been there, Celia, my son wouldn’t need to be healed.”

Vincent would never forget the day that started it all, and how he felt driving down that long, vacant road in the desert for the first time. He’d been miserable, sweat dripping from his brow. The car was completely silent besides the sound of the rumbling engine. Maura knew he hated the silent treatment. He’d rather be yelled at than for her to sit there as she was, staring out the window with that blank expression on her face.

He had no idea, as he slammed his hands against the steering wheel, that it was just the beginning of a vexing day. “If you don’t say something, Maura, I’m going to spontaneously combust.”

She exhaled sharply but still said nothing.