Behind the Secrets (Behind the Lives #4) (32 page)

28

Dante

Three months later

Dante was standing in the doorway,
watching Beth’s mother talking to her daughter’s unconscious form, telling Beth
about some clothes she’d bought for the baby. Dante’s eyes moved to Beth’s stomach,
which was so big it looked like a basketball had been stuffed underneath her
gown. She was in her third trimester, the baby doing well—unlike Beth. Her face
was gaunt, her arms scarily thin. She looked like she was trapped between life
and death, suspended in a cruel limbo. Dante felt trapped too, caught in a void
where he couldn’t move on. He visited her every day—when he wasn’t too
incapacitated. He scrubbed a hand down his face, feeling the need to get wasted
again, but resisting the pull, even though it was tugging on him like a
motherfucker, every fibre in his body screaming at him to do it.

Beth’s mother lifted up one of the
outfits she’d bought for the baby, continuing to talk to Beth as though she
could hear her, her words sounding slightly crazy. Dante understood crazy—every
aspect of it. The last few months had been filled with so many manic episodes
he’d lost count. It was concerning his loved ones, who were constantly asking
him how he was, or wanting to put him back into the loony bin. It was one of
the reasons why he hadn’t been home for a couple of weeks. He’d been couch
hopping to avoid them, even sleeping in his car after one of his so-called
mates phoned Ash, Dante having overheard the call.

Beth’s mother placed a tiny pink outfit
on top of her daughter’s belly, the doctor confirming she was having a girl.
Like Mrs. Connor, he hoped the baby looked like Beth and not Ash, so that Beth
could live on through her.

Beth’s mother looked up, spotting him
standing in the doorway. She pushed out of her chair and walked over to him. “How
long have you been here, Dante?”

“Not long,” he lied.

She placed a hand on his arm, a
concerned look falling over her features. “You should go home, sweetheart. Your
family are really worried about you. Ash told me you ran away.”

“I’m an adult. I don’t run away, I move
on.”

“He didn’t use those exact words,
although I think they’re accurate. You
are
running away, Dante, hiding
from everyone, even yourself. I heard you’re drinking again, and don’t deny it,
I can smell it on you. You have to stop doing that. It would upset Beth seeing
you like this.”

She was right. He’d come straight from
his last bender, the alcohol not having fully left his system. He’d woken up in
someone’s house, with strangers lying around him, which was the way he
preferred things, because unlike his family, strangers didn’t nag him to stop drinking,
or get in his face when he refused to listen.

Beth’s mother scowled at him when he
didn’t answer. “Stop doing this, Dante, it’s killing you.”

He shrugged her hand off him. “I came to
see Beth, not for a lecture. If I wanted one I’d go home.”

“They’re concerned like I am. Please,
sweetheart, you need to get some help. You’re going to end up in an early grave
if you keep going down this road.”

“Not like it would be a loss.”

“Dante! Don’t say that. People love you,
I
love you. You’re like a son to me. I can’t stand seeing you hurting so
badly.” She pulled out her phone. “I’ll call Ash; he can come and take you
home.”

“I’ve got my own car.”

“Like hell you’re driving.” Before he
could react, she was digging in his pocket, taking his keys.

“What the fuck are you doin’?!” he
snapped, grabbing for them.

She moved them behind her back. “Stop
this stupidity, Dante. You could kill someone—you could kill yourself. How is
that going to help your daughter?”

“She’s not my daughter! She’s Ash’s.”

Beth’s mother went stock still, her
expression taken aback.

Dante breathed out, willing himself to
calm down. “I confronted Beth after finding out she’d lied to me ’bout the
child bein’ mine. I broke up with her and ran across the road to my car. She followed
me,” he breathed out again, “that wuz when she wuz hit.”

Beth’s mother blinked rapidly, looking
on the verge of tears.

Dante continued, “If I hadn’t found out
she wuz carrying Ash’s baby I wouldn’t have gone to your house. I also wouldn’t
have led her into the path of that car.” He screwed up his face, pain gripping
onto him tight. “She’s dying cos of me.”

Beth’s mother shook her head vigorously.
“No, sweetheart, she isn’t. The driver of the car is responsible,
not
you.”

“How can you say that? If I hadn’t seen
her, she wouldn’t have run onto the road.”

Stepping closer, Beth’s mother looked
him directly in the eyes. “This. Isn’t. Your. Fault. You had every right to
confront my daughter. What she did was unforgivable. I don’t blame you for
breaking up with her. Also, Corey told me you tried to save her. But right now,
Dante, I think you’re the one who needs saving. So, please, let me drive you
home.”

He turned to leave, not wanting her kind
words, because no matter what she said, he
was
to blame.

She grabbed his arm. “Dante, stop being
pigheaded.”

He shook her off and headed out of the
room, aiming for the elevator.

She ran after him, grabbing his arm
again. “Stop, Dante!”

He pulled free and hit the elevator
button.

She pushed in front of him, looking so
much like Beth it hurt. “Please let me take you home.”

The elevator door dinged open. He shifted
her over and stepped inside. She followed him in, making him yell out: “Leave
me the hell alone!”

“No!” she said, hitting the close
button. “And you’re going to listen to me, Dante Rata.  I know you’re in pain,
I
am too, yet I’m not drinking myself into an early grave.”

“You didn’t cause Beth to get hurt.”

“You didn’t either! How many times do I
have to tell you that before you get it into that stubborn head of yours you
did
nothing
wrong. And don’t think I don’t blame myself for what
happened. I wish with all my heart that I hadn’t left the house that day. I got
a call from a friend saying they thought they saw my Samuel hanging around Claydon
High. If I hadn’t gone to check, I might’ve stopped Beth from running after you.
So pull yourself together, like I’ve had to, or you’re going to hurt your
family. Do you want them to feel like you do right now? Because they will if
you go and get yourself killed.”

“They’re better off without me, I cause
nuthin’ but pain.”

The door opened. She took hold of his
hand and pulled him out of the elevator, backing him up against a wall,
blocking him from leaving. “No, you’re
in
pain,
not
the cause of
it. Understand the difference.”

“I can’t,” he sobbed. “It hurts so bad.”

She brushed her hand over his cheek. “I
know, sweetheart, I understand more than you know, and not just from a mother’s
perspective. I feel responsible for my first husband dying. I beat myself up
every single day for not taking him to the doctor when he said he wasn’t well. I
thought he had the flu—it was meningitis. He fell into a coma the next day,
dying soon after. If I’d taken him to see the doctor straight away, he might’ve
survived. That’s why I understand what you’re going through, and why I know
you’ll get past this stage. It will still hurt for the rest of your life, but
it’ll be bearable, because there will be moments of joy that’ll make life worth
living. For me, that was the birth of my sons and watching my children grow.
Also, if I’d succumbed to my grief, those precious boys wouldn’t be around.” Her
bottom lip quivered. “Corey wouldn’t be around. And, Dante, I want you to be
around too, because I don’t care if you’re not my granddaughter’s father,
you’re family to me now, and I’m willing to fight for you, like any other
member of my family. ”

Dante blinked back the tears, what she
was saying moving him.

She took hold of his hand. “So let me be
there for you like Beth was. She told me she used to drive you home when you
got drunk. I can do that now.”

He stared at her, seeing Beth in her
features.
Again
, it was like he was standing before the daughter, not
the mother, the two eerily similar. And he wanted her to be Beth, he wanted it
so bad.

She continued, “Or if you don’t want to
go home, come back to my place. I have a spare bed you can sleep in.”

“You always looked after me.”

She let go of his hand. “What are you
talking about?”

“Whenever I got drunk, you always came
to get me.”

“No, like I said, that was Beth.”

Willing her to be Beth, he grabbed her
face and kissed her, his fucked up mind capable of seeing anything.

She jerked back. “Why did you do that,
Dante?” she said, looking shocked.

“I
wanted you to be Beth.” He shot past her, needing to get so fucking drunk that the
next time he kissed a woman—he would only see Beth.

***

Dante handed over the acid tabs from his
jacket pocket, getting a bunch of cash shoved at him by the group of teenagers.
He pocketed their money and headed around the pub, entering the front way,
ready to get off-his-face drunk.

He took the closest seat to the
bartender and indicated for the man to come over. Within seconds, he was
tipping back vodka, then a Jim Beam, followed by more mind-numbing drinks.
Before he knew it, he was out of cash and holding an empty glass. He slammed it
down, indicating for another one, hoping the bartender would give him a freebie
after all the booze he’d bought. Instead, Vin Diesel’s double held out his hand
for more cash.

“Put it on my account,” Dante said.

“You don’t have an account, mate.”

“Sure I do.”

“Bullshit. I’ve been working here for
five years and I’ve never seen you before, so either pay up or get out.”

“You stingy fucker, I gave you a
shitload of cash; you could at least gimme a freebie.”

The bartender indicated to the door with
his thumb. “If you’re going to insult me, you can take a hike.”

“Nah, mate,
c’mon
, I just want
one more.”

The bartender turned away from him,
moving off to serve another customer. Dante went to shout out, wanting to give
the tight bastard a piece of his mind, but instead yelped as a slap struck the
side of his head. He swivelled around on the barstool, ready to take on whoever
had hit him, but instead froze, shocked by who he saw.

Beth glared at him. “I’ve dreamed of
doing that for so long, Dante-foulmouthed-Rata. I also want an apology from
you, you insulting prick.”

Dante blinked, not sure if his mind was
playing with him or whether Beth was really standing in front of him, because
fuck, she looked real.

Beth placed a hand on her hip. “Well,
I’m waiting.”

Dante looked behind her at a group of women
watching them, one of the chicks yelling out, “You go, girl! Give it to him!”

He refocused on Beth. “Sorry,” he said, barely
getting it out.

A smile pulled at her brightly painted
red lips. “About time,” she said, puffing out her chest.

Dante’s eyes dropped to it, staring at
the tight blue material stretched across the bulbous mounds, thinking Beth
didn’t have big tits, hers a lot smaller.

She cupped his chin, lifting it up so he
focused on her face. “You like my tits now, do ya? Before you thought I was a
male with a fake boob job.”

He shook his head. “I wouldn’t say that,
you’re beautiful.”

Looking surprised, she let go of his
face. “Why are you being nice? You thought I was ugly the last time we spoke.”

“If I thought you were ugly, would I do
this?” He pushed off the barstool and grabbed her face, planting his lips
against hers, giving her the kiss of a lifetime. Several seconds later, he pulled
back.

Beth wobbled on her stilettos, looking
momentarily stunned, then a huge smile lit up her face. “Well, I like this
Dante Rata much better than the one I saw in Claydon.” She leaned in closer to
him. “Or is this change of heart ’cause you need cash?”

“I always need cash.”

She raised her eyebrows. “And you want
me to rectify that?”

“You bein’ here is enough for me.”

Grinning from ear to ear, she wrapped
her arms around his waist, her hands going to his arse. “You really are on fire
tonight. Though, you shouldn’t drink so much, ’cause it’s unprofessional.” She
gave his arse a squeeze. “So, how much will it cost to get you home? Will four
hundred do?”

“Four hundred?”

She pouted. “Okay, five, but I can’t
afford more than that, so please say yes. Plus, you were really mean to me the last
time. You could at least gimme a break.”

Dante’s mind went to their break up. “I
wuz mad. If I hadn’t been, I wouldn’t have said those things to you.”