He didn’t respond.
He just stood there silently staring at me as I put all the pieces together.
His eyes were fixed on mine as I asked, “And if you’re DeLuca’s cleaner, then you were there the night I was shot. That’s how I ended up here. You were supposed to get rid of me, but you didn’t.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“But why didn’t you?”
“You weren’t dead. You were badly wounded and suffering with every breath, but you were alive and holding on.” His voice was strained as he explained, “You were a fighter and determined to live, and as I told you before, I’m no murderer.”
I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. I believed everything he said, but it was a lot to take in. I was struggling to accept it. It shouldn’t have been that hard. I knew Billy was different. I’d seen it in all his little quirks and odd little side-glances, but of all the crazy ideas I’d had about him, I’d never once imagined that Billy was a cleaner.
And not only that, but he was a cleaner for men like Antonio DeLuca.
I should’ve been horrified by the thought, but I wasn’t.
Honestly, I didn’t know how to feel about any of it.
While his choice of occupation was troubling, I wasn’t afraid of Billy. I’d been around monsters before—men like DeLuca and the people he worked with. They’d come into his office, and I could literally feel the evil radiating off them. Just being near them would send a cold chill down my spine, and I had to fight the urge to get up and run away from them.
I’d never felt that with Billy—not once.
Instead, I felt safe, protected, and more times than I care to admit, I actually felt drawn to him. The whole thing confused the hell out of me, and I needed to think things through. I looked over to Billy, and the second our eyes met, I told him, “I need some time. Can you give me that?”
He gave me a quick nod, then watched as I turned and started up the porch steps. I’d just opened the door to go inside when I heard him call out, “Everleigh?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry about your friend.”
“I’m sorry, too. He was a sweet kid.” I swallowed back my tears as I muttered, “He didn’t deserve to die.”
Without saying anything more, I went straight to my room and let the door close behind me. I dropped face first onto the bed, and as soon as my head hit the pillow, I let the tears fall freely. Letting myself cry ended up being a mistake because once I started, I couldn’t stop.
I cried for Matteo, I cried for my dad, and then I cried for myself.
I had a real pity party, and it went on for quite some time. I tried to pull myself together, but it was just too hard. I’d spent years doing everything I could to keep from falling apart, and now that the dam had broken, I couldn’t seem to reign it back in.
Thankfully, my tears eventually ran dry, and the clouds slowly lifted, giving me a chance to start putting things into perspective. I might not have approved or condoned Billy’s profession—I might’ve actually hated the very thought of it, but had he not been there the night I was shot, I wouldn’t have survived. I wouldn’t be here contemplating my future because I wouldn’t have one.
It was that thought that gave me the clarity I needed. I got out of bed, went to the bathroom, and washed my face. I took a couple pain relievers, then headed out to find Billy. When I got to the living room, I found him sitting on the sofa with a solemn look on his face. As soon as he spotted me, he stood and asked, “Are you okay?”
“I’m better now.” I gave him a little shrug. “I just needed to work through some things.”
“I get it. You had a lot to take in.”
“I’m glad you understand.” I walked over and sat down on the sofa, then waited as he sat down next to me. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“What happens if Antonio finds out what you did? What if he finds out I’m still alive?”
“I’m doing everything in my power to make sure that never happens.”
“But if he does, won't he try and kill us both?”
“I imagine he will try, but I give you my word, Everleigh. I won’t let him hurt you.Not again.”