Chapter 136: 35| Love-1

┏━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┓ Love ┗━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┛ Chapter 35: Love (Anastasia's POV) That night, far too many thoughts were racing through our minds for us to get any sleep. Restlessly, we kept tossing and turning for several hours before finally calling it quits and going downstairs. Closing the fridge as I retrieved a water bottle, I focused on Dante as he sat at the kitchen island, flicking the lighter between his fingers incessantly. "What are you thinking about?" I asked, setting the bottle down and standing beside him. "No matter how many different ways I think about it, I can't understand why he would leave such a big clue behind," he replied, running a hand over his mouth. "Why reveal himself now?" I paused in thought. "Technically, we have no evidence," I mumbled, "we can't prove that the culprit is Ethan Morales." "Do you think he'll kill more people?" "I don't know," I answered truthfully, watching Dante. The dim lights of the kitchen casted a warm glow over him, almost like candlelight. The little frown between his brows had returned, and the stress was written all over his face. I hated seeing him so distressed and not being able to do anything. Stepping closer to him, I pulled myself onto the counter, clutching the table's edge. "He might wait longer," I said. "The cooling period between his murders has only been a week. He might take more time to plan things out and be more careful. We know it's him. One wrong move and he'll be caught." When another frustrated sigh came from his lips, I couldn't take it anymore. "Dante-" "What if it's a distraction?" he asked, staring up at me. "What if these murders aren't hiding a secret message, just distracting us from whatever he's truly planning?" "There's no point if all we're doing is assuming." Groaning quietly, he dropped his head against my knees, holding my waist. My fingers naturally stroked his hair. "Let's stop talking about it," I said softly. "It's making things worse." After a few minutes passed, I gave his arms a light squeeze. "Let's go back to bed," I whispered. Lifting his head, Dante rose up to his feet and positioned himself between my legs; he brought his hands down on the counter, caging me in. "I can't even think straight, let alone sleep peacefully, Mia Cara. Don't let me keep you up." I clutched his shirt when he stepped back and held him in place. "Tell me what to do," I pleaded, "I hate seeing you like this." "Ana-" "Please." "It can't be helped, I-" I caught a quick flash of surprise in his eyes as I gripped his shirt and tugged him closer, bringing his lips to mine. It wasn't that I didn't want him thinking about the case. I understood what reliving old memories had done to him today. I felt the same. Talking about the pasts that we were haunted by our entire lives, bringing up the memories we tried so hard to bury, it was hard to forget about them tonight. Isaiah Morales and what he put us through possessed all our thoughts. But I couldn't stand seeing Dante as he felt so powerless and tormented by the thoughts in his head. Even though this case played a huge role in our lives, I wouldn't let it take over completely. He paused, only blinking for a minute as I pulled away. Finally, he softly chuckled, "You're a terrible distraction." "Everyone needs a distraction sometimes," I replied with a small shrug. I looped my arms around his neck as he lifted me off the table, wrapped my legs around his waist, and let him carry me upstairs. When I woke up the next morning, it was to a text that I least expected, so when I walked into the kitchen with a confused look and a morning frown on my face, Dante was rightfully puzzled. "What's wrong?" he asked, kissing my cheek quickly as he walked around my seat and to the fridge, grabbing the orange juice. I set my phone down and glanced up at him. "My father texted me asking to come over for dinner tonight." After what happened last time, I wasn't expecting any more dinner invitations for the foreseeable future. Resting his arms on the table as he sat next to me, Dante asked, "Do you want me to come with you?" he asked, brushing the hair out of my eyes. I blinked in surprise. "You would do that?" He nodded wordlessly, staring at me. "I think you've fought that battle on your own more times than you should have." I fell into thought, staring at the plate of food he'd placed in front of me. "Anastasia," he called out. "Hmm?" I turned to him again. "Did you ever tell your parents the truth? About how things happened?" I hesitated before shaking my head slowly. "They made up their minds before I even came back. I made it out, and Francesca didn't. That's all they see. It doesn't matter how many times I try to explain. They don't see what they don't want to. Maybe it's easier for them to hold someone like me accountable." "Someone like you?" "Someone they can hurt back." "You don't deserve that," he said almost immediately. "You don't deserve that at all, Anastasia." I let out a breath and shook my head lightly. "I don't know… Will you really come with me?" "If you want me to. Do you?" I nodded, "I'd like that." I would love it. Having someone on my team for once. After breakfast, Dante left to get some work done, and although I wanted to tell him not to overwork himself, I knew how restless he was and how helpless he felt with this case. Just as I'd told him, Dante was at my door at eight o'clock sharp, ready to drive me to my parents' house. As I took the passenger seat, I did a double take in the backseat at the bouquet sitting there. I stared at Dante in disbelief as he started the car. "Who is that for?" I demanded. "Your mother," he breathed out, taking my hand in his. "You bought flowers for my mother?" I asked in surprise. "I thought it could help," he shrugged, glancing at me.