Chapter 14 - THE THING HE SAVED
I parked behind the truck and got out.
Dominic shoved his hands into his coat pockets.
“You look angry.”
“I declined three times.”
“I noticed.”
“You kept increasing the tip.”
“I noticed that too.”
I looked at Dad’s truck.
The blue paint was faded.
Rust along the wheel wells.
Same dent on the passenger door.
My throat tightened.
“Where did you find it?”
“Warehouse outside Joliet.”
I stepped closer.
“They kept this?”
“Salvatore did.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
I ran my hand along the hood.
I was sixteen again.
Dad teaching me to drive in an empty parking lot.
“Easy on the gas, Ave.”
“I am being easy.”
“You almost killed a shopping cart.”
“It came out of nowhere.”
“It was sitting still.”
I smiled before I could stop myself.
Dominic handed me the keys.
“They’re yours.”
I took them.
Then I noticed an envelope on the driver’s seat.
“What’s that?”
“We found it under the floor liner.”
My name.
Again.
Dad’s handwriting.
My hands shook as I opened it.
Avery,
If you ever get this truck, I guess things went worse than I hoped.
I laughed through tears.
Typical Dad.
I kept reading.
You’re probably angry.
Good.
Anger means you know something mattered.
But don’t build a house inside it.
That line broke me.
I sat in the driver’s seat.
Dominic stayed outside.
I read on.
You are stronger than you think, but strength isn’t how hard you can hit.
It’s knowing when not to.
Take care of your mother.
Finish something for yourself.
And if I don’t get to say this again, kiddo—
I was proud of you before you ever won a medal.
I was proud of you when you lost.
I was proud of you when you got back up.
Love,
Dad.
I pressed the letter against my mouth.
For years, I thought Dad’s last memory of me was our argument before work.
I had yelled because he wanted me to attend a tournament.
I said fighting was stupid.
He said I was wasting talent.
I slammed the door.
He died before I apologized.
Now I knew.
He had been proud anyway.
Dominic waited until I stopped crying.
Then he said, “There’s something else.”
I laughed weakly.
“There is always something else with you.”
He smiled.
“For once, it’s not terrible.”
He handed me a folder.
Inside was an application.
Community college.
Tuition paid through a private restitution fund created from seized Moretti assets.
I looked up.
“No.”
“It isn’t from me.”
“Your name is on the fund.”
“The money isn’t mine anymore.”
“I don’t want charity.”
“Then don’t take it.”
He shrugged.
“But don’t confuse refusing help with strength.”
That annoyed me because it sounded exactly like something Mom would say.
“What happens to you?”
“My plea hearing is next month.”
“How long?”
“Could be years.”
I nodded.
He looked toward the mansion.
“I’m selling this place.”
“Good.”
He laughed.
“I thought you might say that.”
“You have terrible taste in fiancées.”
“That too.”
I looked at the house where Vanessa made me kneel.
It felt smaller now.
Just bricks.
Glass.
Money.
Nothing sacred.
Nothing powerful.
I turned toward Dominic.
“Why did you help my father?”
He thought about it.
“Because he was the first man who worked for my family and still talked to me like I was an idiot when I deserved it.”
“That sounds like Dad.”
“He told me I could spend my life becoming my uncle or spend it becoming someone I could stand to look at.”
“And which did you choose?”
Dominic looked toward the dark lake.
“I’m still choosing.”
A month later, I enrolled in school.
Part-time.
Physical therapy assistant program.
Mom cried.
I told her to stop.
She cried harder.
Life finally felt like it was moving.
Then, on the morning of Dominic’s hearing, someone knocked on our apartment door.
I opened it.
Two federal agents stood outside.
My stomach dropped.
“Ms. Carter?”
“Yes?”
“We need you to come with us.”
“Why?”
The older agent looked uncomfortable.
“It concerns your father’s case.”
I gripped the door.
“I thought that case was over.”
“So did we.”
He handed me a sealed evidence bag.
Inside was a photograph I had never seen before.
Dad.
Taken after the date Salvatore supposedly killed him.
And standing beside Dad was a man who was still alive.
A man I knew.
May you like
A man currently sitting in a hospital under federal protection.
Marco Bellini.
