"Wiesner, Karen - Gypsy Road 04 - Vows and the Vagabond" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wiesner Karen)

never would. He wouldn’t allow it. She’d always be a baby, a little kid
who gave him her heart after he so cruelly tricked her into handing it
over.
"I don’t want to see you anymore, Blackie. Ever. For any reason."
She hung up and predictably burst into tears. How could she avoid not
seeing him? Her father was...well, the closest thing Blackie had to a
father. His loyalty to Jerry Gordon would never waver, no matter what.
But if she wanted to have a life, if she wanted to find some
happiness, she had to make the only place she ever saw Blackie Scarpacchio
her memories.

EVEN after she hung up, Blackie continued to listen to the dial tone
like she could change her mind, come back and retract all the harshness.
He turned slightly to look at the framed picture of Lori on his desk.
Eighteen, so damn beautiful with that long, strawberry blond hair and
those crystal eyes and sweet smile. Eighteen, and she’d been completely
infatuated with him.
Guess you can call ‘em the good old days now. Kiss ‘em goodbye.
He dropped the receiver into the cradle and picked up the picture
frame.
"I don’t want to see you anymore, Blackie. Ever. For any reason."
She’d finally given him what he deserved and didn’t want. Wouldn’t
accept. How could he? He needed her. She was the one, above anybody else,
he couldn’t do without...he’d rather die.
He told himself she didn’t mean it, but he’d felt it coming for
awhile. Especially when she lied about why she couldn’t attend Jon and
Tracey’s wedding. She hadn’t wanted to see him. For a long time, he’d
noticed she didn’t look at him the way she used to. And he didn’t like
Lori wary—not of him.
Setting the frame back on the desk, he took a deep breath, then
leaned forward with his head in his hands.
Couldn’t even pride himself on being less fucked up than his friends.
They’d all figured it out. They had their one-and-onlys, their kids and
jobs and....
Admit it, that’s why you cut outta your best friends’ wedding so
early. All of ‘em are happy, too damn happy—and, for you, misery loves
nothin’ but itself. ‘Least when they had problems, you were useful.
A chuckle started in his chest, and Blackie tamped it down violently.
Dammit, he thought, rubbing his bare chest like he could rub out the
ache behind it. Behind it—in an organ that he’d be a hell of a lot better
off if all it did was keep him alive.
Damn sight easier being heartless. Nobody could touch you then.
Nobody could destroy you with a handful of words then.
"...don’t want to see you anymore...Ever."
"Next time we might not come back and then what would you do, you
little shit?"
He stood, moving around the bed grabbing clothes. Then he bent over
the sleeping form sprawled across his bed.
When Blackie touched her shoulder, she turned, peering up at him with
one half-open eye.