Promises Promises

Before the trial, I can’t say I’d ever given much thought to the sound of a gavel, but as soon as that thing went down with a terminal crack, I knew it was something I’d never forget.

As hardwood met hardwood, my father’s fate echoed with finality through the expansive courtroom and rang with the proclamation of another broken promise.

My mother cried and my brothers cursed. As for me, I ran outside to escape the noise. I wasn’t shocked by the sentence, but I needed a quiet place to lick my wounds all the same.

From my spot on the stone bench outside the courthouse, the city loomed ahead of me, and nothing was actually quiet. It was all skyscrapers and the sound of busy traffic, people laughing as they walked by.

They marveled at the newly planted flowers along the sidewalk, as though the smell of summer blooms could hide the stench of corruption.

I hated it.

All of it. That vile city and all the towns that circled it like a crooked halo. I called one of those towns home, but it was no longer a place I was eager to claim.

Situated on the outskirts of Brighton, the idyllic Fairhaven was lined with adorable little shops and cozy houses that ran along the Kingston River. The smell of pine trees and fresh bread lingered in the air, and the cobblestone streets were such a vintage dream come true that no one even minded how slick they became in the winter.

It was a cute little town, picturesque even, and everyone knew everyone.

From the outside looking in, one might have seen a place that matched the likes of Mayberry. But those who knew better only saw the deception that hung over it like a fog, ruled by people who were ruled by greed. They inhaled money and exhaled lies to get more of it, stepping on anyone in their path.

My father became one of those people who did the stepping. He would spend the rest of his life behind bars for it.

A throat cleared beside me, followed by the warm presence of my twin brother, Dalton, as he took a seat on the bench at my side. His dark hair was combed out of his face for once, slicked back for the trial proceedings, and something about it didn’t sit right.

He looked too much like Dad.

“Are you okay, Davina?” he asked softly, his voice filled with concern.

My hands flew to my eyes and I wiped the tears away, sticking my chin up. “I’m fine.”

It was a habit of mine, to act tougher than I really was. To pretend I could take things in stride and come out unscathed. I’d spent so long hating my father, I despised myself for crying at all that day, but...

There was a tiny girl inside me, and she was so naive.

Once upon a time, she thought her father was perfect and good. She would swing in the hammock he put up on her seventh birthday and think about all the good things to come.

Made of sky blue linen, with pretty tassels that hung from it like a dreamcatcher, that hammock was the perfect spot for my imagination to run wild, and I always made such plans. Big in the simplest of ways.

Mostly, I dreamt of staying in Fairhaven for the rest of my life. Close to family because what are we without family?

I’d be married to Spencer Lovejoy, my forever crush. We’d drink lemonade and eat sugar cookies on Sundays, and nothing bad would ever happen.

But bad things always happened.

By the time I turned ten, my father had become one of the bad guys, and it destroyed our home, stealing his time and integrity and all the respect I once had for him.

When I turned fourteen, he took my oldest brother, Dante, under his wing and passed the corruption on like a family heirloom. And shortly after that, a lightning storm took out my beloved hammock, adding insult to injury, a poetic mirror image of the way our family had fallen apart.

Bad things. They always happened.

My father promised to fix the hammock, but he never did get around to it. Now he never would.

That little girl inside me still ached for the life she always wanted, something lovely and true, where people kept their word. But that was not real life, and I’d rather be fake tough than naive.

“We’re going to be okay,” Dalton muttered as his arm draped over my shoulders. “Dante’s got everything under control.”

I looked up at him and felt like laughing, but our mother’s fate was twisted in the knots of her husband’s bad choices, and worry kept all humor at bay.

“Dante doesn’t have shit under control,” I pointed out with a snap. “With Dad in prison, Amato’s favor will be locked up in a cell with him. He put all their eggs in that basket, Dalton. Mom will have nothing. We will have nothing.”

Without a steady stream of income, what my parents had would run out fast with no chance of replacing it at a normal job in the normal world. The house we lived in wasn’t even ours. Neither was my father’s Bentley. That was the first thing they came to collect while he was in jail awaiting trial.

Would the house be next? Where would we go?

Our entire livelihood was tied up in The Amato Group, construction on the outside, but a grimy criminal organization at its roots. All wrapped up in Fairhaven’s pretty bow of goodness like pearls on swine.

Dalton’s eyes shifted around us. “Keep your voice down, Davina,” he hushed me. “You never know who’s listening.”

“I don’t care who’s listening,” I mumbled as I glanced back out at the street. He wasn’t taking this seriously enough. “You know as well as I do, family means everything to these people. Names mean everything to them. And our last name, whether you like it or not, is Harlow. Not Amato. Not Farina. Not fucking Sullivan.”

“Davina–”

“No.” I wasn’t done. “Dad and Dante love to talk about how everyone’s got each other’s back in this business. But look how they protected Dad when he got caught by the wrong person in the wrong place. They made him the fall guy with no hesitation. He was living a delusion thinking they’d really accepted him.”

In reality, he gained admission into Amato’s “upper organization” by flashing a ticket with my mother’s maiden name. She was a Farina, her family hailing from the same part of Northern Italy where Giovanni Amato’s family reigned. Her name meant something.

As a woman who married a Harlow, it wasn’t much. But it was enough to get my father’s foot in the door. Without it, he probably would have been several rungs lower, working an overpaid position at the bread factory, helping clean money like everyone else. His humility and our family might have been spared.

Instead, he weasled his way up to a place he wouldn’t have ordinarily been granted access, got in way too deep with the wrong people, and my mother–my poor, already suffering mother–would pay the biggest price.

Dalton sighed. “Family does mean everything to them, you’re right. Which is why we still matter. Dad may be gone, but he didn’t snitch. They respect that shit, and Mom’s name will always keep us in good favor. There are opportunities for work.”

I did laugh that time. “Hardly,” I blurted out. “What can she possibly do for them? She can barely move most days. She can’t work at the factory. She can’t do construction. All the easy, paper pushing jobs are already taken by people whose family members didn’t get pinched. She can’t take his place, Dalton.”

“I wasn’t talking about Mom,” he said slowly. “We all know she can’t be the one to replace him.”

As the seconds inched along at a snail’s pace, his words sunk in and my body ran cold. When I looked into my twin’s eyes, it was like a mindtrip. To see a gaze identical to your own in every way, but staring back at you with such a different resolve.

“No.” I shook my head. “Absolutely not, Dalton. You are not going to work for Amato.”

“Dante’s already putting things in motion,” he replied without hesitation. “I have no choice.”

“Yes, you do,” I argued back. Anxiety swirled in my gut and my chest felt heavy. So heavy.

When people talk about the elusive twin connection, they don’t always mention the part where sometimes it feels like you might die under the weight of impending grief. At the mere thought of your womb mate suffering any sort of pain, big or small. Especially when it was so unnecessary and would derail everything Dalton had worked for.

“You’re supposed to be starting at Aurora in the fall,” I reminded him, grasping for anything I could get my hands on. “You scored the highest on the exams out of everyone in the whole county. You’re actually going places. You’re getting out of Fairhaven.”

“And going where, Davina?” Dalton snapped at me. “You just said so yourself that we have nothing now that Dad’s locked up. Whatever might have been set aside for tuition is gone. Mom needs that money to survive.”

The fresh reminder of where we were and why we were there hit me like a ton of bricks, the sound of the gavel ringing once more in my ears. Dad’s locked up.

I wondered if he was already on a bus back to the state correctional facility. Did Mom stay to watch him go?

As if on cue, the courthouse steps became crowded as people started filing outside. Dante led our mother out with a firm hand on her shoulder, moving with the domineering finesse of a young, new patriarch stepping up in the wake of disaster.

I shook my head and turned back to Dalton. “You can’t work for The Amato Group,” I pleaded. “That’s like signing yourself over to the damn mob.”

“Amato’s not in the mob,” he hissed, eyes beaming around again to see if anyone heard. “He just...works with them sometimes.”

“That’s the same thing!” My hands flew in the air, exasperated. How could my brother be so delusional? He was too much like our father for his own good. “The whole organization is corrupt, Dalton. They’ve ruined our hometown. Even the Mayor is in their pocket.”

“Don’t be naive, Davina.” Dalton’s frustration flew out on a sigh, and his choice of words stuck to me like a grimy film. “Everyone’s hands are a little dirty in Fairhaven.” He paused and gave me a pointed look. “Including your boyfriend’s family.”

“Spence isn’t my boyfriend,” I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest. My voice shook with uncertainty when I added, “And for the last time, Chief Lovejoy isn’t a dirty cop.”

I wasn’t sure yet if that was true or not, but I liked speaking it into existence as often as possible. Because if there was one family in Fairhaven I really wanted to be good and true, it was the Lovejoys. It was better for my feelings that way. But, alas, bad things always happened, and I had my doubts.

Those doubts were the exact reason John Spencer Lovejoy III was not my boyfriend and probably never would be. Even if he held my heart in his hands and my v-card in his pocket. I’d given it up on prom night like the sweetest cliché. Just thinking about it made me warm.

“Right, he’s not a dirty cop.” Dalton snort laughed. “That’s why they live in that big ass house, have vacation property in North Carolina, and Spence got a brand new Camaro for his sixteenth birthday.” He tilted his head at me with a discomforting smirk. “Are those the types of things you think a man can afford on a small town law enforcement salary? I could probably go on.”

He could definitely go on. For one thing, he forgot to list the fancy Ducati that Spence just got for a graduation gift, but since it was brand new and all, it could be forgiven.

Damn it.

I hated that his arguments always made sense when it came to the Lovejoys. Their name held a spot in a long line of military and police, for crying out loud. That should have automatically made them one of the good guys.

“You need to be careful with him,” Dalton said to me, his voice softer this time, finally serious. “There’s a good chance he’ll disappoint you.”

I held those identical gray eyes with mine, barely recognizing my own brother anymore. “Not any more than you will if you join Dante and start working with these criminals.”

Summoned by my voice, a silver Bentley rolled to a stop in front of the courthouse, and Mr. Amato himself stepped out of the driver’s seat.

Dalton and I watched in silence as he approached Dante and our mother, exchanging conversation with the two of them.

I couldn’t hear what they were saying from my spot on the bench, but I felt the vibration of doom in my bones as Amato brought his head close to my older brother’s ear, muttering things for only him to hear. Secrets and lies and God knows what else.

Then he pointed to the familiar car on the street and handed Dante the keys to our father’s Bentley. A moment later, as if timed for dramatic effect, a flashy Rolls-Royce pulled up. Someone came around and opened the back door, holding it open as Mr. Amato slid in like a celebrity.

What a joke.

He disappeared as quickly as he’d come, and I was happy to see him go. But when I looked over at Dalton, his mouth was hanging open and his eyes were mesmerized as he watched the luxury vehicle pull away.

My chest went heavy again and I reached for my heart. He looked too much like our father, and my mind traveled once more to the gavel and that disconcerting crack. I was worried it would never leave my head.

Serving as an unexpected reprieve, the loud rumble of a motorcycle drowned it out as Spencer pulled up in front of the stone bench.

He yanked his helmet off, and his eyes were drawn to mine like a compass finding north. One brown, one almost black. Two colors made up his gaze, very wolf-like in nature, and the way he looked at me was just as feral. My stomach filled with butterflies.

Spence didn’t ask what happened at the sentencing. In fact, to my ultimate dismay, he stole a glance at the courthouse, and when he looked back at me and Dalton, he wore a look of indifference that told us he somehow already knew that our father would be locked up for the rest of his life.

“What’s up, man?” He tipped his chin at my brother, then returned his attention to me. A touch of gravel entered his tone, and his voice dropped low as he said, “Hop on, Diva Davina.”

If I’d been standing, I probably would have fallen over on the spot. He’d been making that same command everyday since he got the bike, and I couldn’t help smiling, even if I hated his little nickname for me.

A thrill ran up my spine as my eyes trailed over the sleek design of his shiny new Scrambler, so tempted to finally do as he said and hop on.

I’d never taken him up on the offer because I promised my father I would never get on the back of a death mobile. Sort of like how he promised me he’d fix the sky blue hammock in the backyard. Or the way he promised he’d always be there for me, and now he was never coming back.

Promises promises.

Spence’s eyes shone like gemstones in the summer sun as he waited for my answer, patting the spot behind him on the bike. He always made space for me, and I liked it that way. Even as my brother’s warning flew around in my brain like a kite, the opportunity to be closer to my forever crush had never been so enticing as it was that day outside the courthouse.

Sure, bad things happened all the time. Maybe, someday, Spencer Lovejoy would turn out to be one of the bad guys, too. But if that were true, I’d figure it out some other time.

Taking the helmet from his hand, I climbed onto the bike, wanting to have some fun for a change as everything else fell apart.…