“That’s not good enough.”
“As usual.”
“Fuck, Delaney.” He stomps over to me, shoving his fingers into my hair as he cups my face, frowning despite the way his thumbs stroke my cheeks. “What do you want? I will do anything for you. Don’t you know that? You wanted me to stay away from you last year and I did. You wanted me to wait until you were ready to try to be in a real relationship and I did. If you asked me to walk out that door and never look at you again it would break my fucking heart, but I’d do it just to make you happy. That’s all I want, baby. I just want you to be happy.” His thumbs wipe at the tears leaking down my cheeks, his cinnamon breath brushing along my lips. “You’re it for me, Vita Mia. I have no one else. I want no one else. Ti amo più della vita stessa.” I love you more than life itself. His lips graze my forehead and I close my eyes, heart soaking him in. “If you want to be with Jessie, then do it, but come back to me.”
“I can’t do that to you.” It’s whispered after he pulls back, my lips salty with my tears when I pinch them between my teeth.
“You already are, baby.” He takes a deep breath, releasing my hair to bring one of my shaking hands to his face, kissing my fingertips. “Do what you want, but when you’re done, choose me. Love me.”
His words break me in a different way than before, the desperation clinging to every syllable, a splinter wedged into my heart too deep to pull out, pushing the crack in the middle even further apart. I rise to my toes, intent to pull his lips to mine, but he pulls out of reach. He kisses my wrist instead, dropping it from his grasp. The rejection burns behind my ribcage, causing another round of silent tears to fight from my eyes. I shouldn’t have expected him to be fine kissing me after I was just with Jessie, but it still cleaves me in two.
“I have chlorine in my hair. I should shower.” It’s my attempt at hiding my pain and I turn before he can stop me, practically running to the bathroom. I don’t look at myself in the mirror, just peel off the rest of my clothes and turn the water on without waiting for it to get to temperature. I don’t care that it’s too cold, the icy burn is nothing compared to the tightness in my chest.
I go through the motions of washing my hair, the water mixing with my tears helping me pretend I’m fine. I jump when the shower curtain rips back and blink the water from my eyes as Donatello jerks me to him, bruising my lips with his as his tongue wraps along my own without hesitation. He steps into the stall, pushing my back against the tile, his clothes getting pelted by the spray as he lays claim to my mouth.
He pulls back to yank his shirt off, tossing the wet fabric onto the shower floor. “I’m sorry, baby. I just needed a minute.” His mouth crashes back with mine, and I melt into him. I’m sick for kissing two men within hours of each other, and he’s apologizing to me for hesitating when he had every right to not want to kiss me. It’s sweet and wrong and I’m vile for even considering we can make it work, but fuck if my heart isn’t giving me any other choice.
“Donatello?” It barely makes it past our lips, hushed out between breathes. He pauses, water running over his chin as he leans back to see my face better. “I want you.”
His eyes close with my words, opening to land on my lips, his fingers lightly pinching along my waist. “I need you, Vita Mia.”
Grinding my teeth at the obnoxious clapping, I close my eyes, trying to think of every reason why I can’t pull my revolver out and shoot the Bastardo. “Bravo, pup. I didn’t think you had it in you, but boy did you prove me wrong.”
Flicking my cigarette butt on to the concrete floor, I crush it with my boot before turning, holding the last of my smoke in my lungs until it burns in my chest. “You should know better than to doubt me, old man.” I have no fucking idea what he’s talking about, but I honestly couldn’t give a fuck. “Care to enlighten me on why the fuck you’re here?”
He looks like he just ate shit, mouth twisted when I lock eyes with him. “Vita Mia had quite the story to tell last week.”
His term of endearment grinds on my eardrums like nails on a chalkboard and I can feel my own face twisting in disgust. “And I’m sure you made her feel like shit about it also.” I’m getting angry just thinking about it, knowing he probably ran her through the mud like he doesn’t have secrets hiding in the closet that are much worse. My eyes narrow on his face and I take a marginal step closer, “Tell me, did it make you feel like a big man to watch that sweet girl cry?”
I barely dodge his punch, the rings on his knuckles scraping along my jaw. If I hadn’t been expecting him to throw one, the fucking douche would have knocked me out cold. If Donatello is to be respected for anything, it’s his ability to fight, and even with the amount of training I’ve had, there’s a slim chance I’d win. And I’m not too prideful to admit it. He’s earned every scar on his hands through inhumane violence, choosing to break faces with his bare hands over a bat.
