Chapter 28 Phone Calls Home
The phone felt heavier than it should have.
Cedric sat in his study~his study, Jesus, when had he started thinking of it that way?~with his cell phone face-up on the desk, his mother's contact photo staring back at him. It was an old picture, taken maybe three years ago at Lily's birthday party. Linda was smiling, actually smiling, the kind of smile that reached her eyes and made her look ten years younger. Before the second job. Before the loan sharks started calling her work. Before everything fell apart for the second time.
He'd been avoiding this call for eight days.
Eight days of letting her texts pile up, of responding with brief "I'm fine" messages that said nothing. Eight days of her asking where he was staying, if he was eating enough, if he needed money. That last one had almost made him laugh. Almost made him cry. Because here he was, sitting in a room lined with textbooks that cost more than she made in a week, sleeping in a bed with sheets that probably cost more than her monthly rent, and she was asking if he needed money.
The guilt sat in his stomach like a stone.
Outside the window, the afternoon sun was doing that thing where it turned everything gold. October light, slanting through the trees in the garden, making the leaves look like they were on fire. It was beautiful. Everything here was beautiful. That was part of the problem.
Cedric picked up the phone. Put it down. Picked it up again.
"Just call her," he muttered to himself. "It's not hard. You dial, you talk, you hang up. You've done this a thousand times."
Except he hadn't. Not like this. Not when every word out of his mouth would be a lie or a half-truth or a careful omission. Not when he had to explain where he was living without actually explaining anything.
His thumb hovered over her name.
The door to the study opened without a knock. Cedric knew who it was before he turned around~Falcone had a particular way of moving through space, quiet but deliberate, like he was always exactly where he meant to be.
"You've been staring at your phone for twenty minutes," Falcone said. He was in his work clothes still, charcoal suit with the jacket off and the sleeves rolled up. There was a tiredness around his eyes that Cedric was starting to recognize. The look he got after back-to-back meetings, after hours of being the version of himself that other people expected.
"How do you know how long I've been staring at it?"
"Mrs. Kozlov mentioned you missed lunch. When I checked the security feed~"
"You were watching me on camera?" Cedric's voice came out sharper than he intended.
Falcone raised an eyebrow. "I was checking to make sure you were alright. There's a difference."
"Is there?"
"Yes." Falcone moved into the room, not coming too close, giving Cedric space. He'd been doing that more lately~reading the moments when Cedric needed distance, respecting them even when Cedric could see the effort it took. "You looked distressed. I was concerned."
The irritation that had flared up died just as quickly. Because of course Falcone had been concerned. That was the thing about him~the attention could feel suffocating and comforting in the same breath.
"I need to call my mom," Cedric said, looking back at the phone. "I've been putting it off."
"Because you don't want to lie to her."
It wasn't a question. Falcone had this way of stating things, cutting through all the bullshit and denial to get to the truth underneath. It should have been annoying. Mostly it was just... accurate.
"Yeah," Cedric admitted. "Because I don't want to lie to her."
Falcone was quiet for a moment. Then: "So don't."
"Right. Great idea. 'Hey Mom, guess what? I'm living with the head of the Italian Mafia now. No, it's fine, he's actually really nice when he's not orchestrating protection rackets or whatever. We have breakfast together every morning.'" Cedric's laugh was harsh, brittle. "That'll go over great."
"You don't have to tell her everything. But you don't have to lie either." Falcone moved closer now, leaning against the edge of the desk. Close enough that Cedric could smell his cologne~something expensive and subtle that Cedric had started associating with safety, with home, which was its own kind of problem. "Tell her you're staying with someone who's helping you. Tell her you're safe. Tell her about going back to school. Those are all true."
"They're true because you made them true."
"Does that make them less real?"
Cedric didn't have an answer for that. He looked down at his phone again, at his mother's smiling face frozen in pixels and better times.
"She's going to ask questions," he said quietly. "She's going to want to know who this person is, where I'm staying, how I can afford to go back to school. She's going to worry."
"Mothers worry. That's what they do." Something in Falcone's voice softened. "Mine worried every day I was alive. About the family business, about my father's expectations, about whether I'd survive to twenty-five in this life." He paused. "She never stopped. Even when I tried to protect her from it, tried to keep her separate from what I was becoming. She knew. And she worried anyway."
Cedric looked up at him. Falcone rarely talked about his mother. Rarely talked about his family at all beyond the bare facts~dead parents, brother in hiding, a legacy built on violence and tradition. This felt like something being offered. Something real.
"Did you lie to her?" Cedric asked.
"All the time." Falcone's smile was sad. "And she knew. Every single time. But she let me pretend because that's what I needed. The illusion that I was protecting her." He met Cedric's eyes. "Your mother isn't stupid, Cedric. She probably already knows more than you think."
"That's what I'm afraid of."
Falcone reached out, his hand settling on the back of Cedric's neck. Warm and grounding. "Call her. I'll give you privacy."
"You don't have to leave."
"I know. But this is between you and her." Falcone squeezed gently, then let go. Started toward the door. Stopped. Turned back. "Cedric?"
"Yeah?"
"Whatever you tell her, whatever you don't tell her~that's your choice. Your relationship with your family is yours. I won't interfere with that." His expression was serious, intense. "I promise."
Then he was gone, the door closing softly behind him.
Cedric sat alone in the quiet study, watching dust motes drift through the golden afternoon light. Outside, birds were singing. Somewhere in the house, he could hear the distant sound of a vacuum cleaner. Normal sounds. Domestic sounds.
He looked at his phone one more time.
Then he pressed call before he could talk himself out of it.
It rang three times. Each ring felt like an eternity.
"Cedric!" His mother's voice was breathless, relieved, tinged with worry. "Oh thank God. I was starting to think~ Are you okay? Where have you been?"
The rush of words hit him like a wave. He closed his eyes, letting the sound of her voice wash over him. How long had it been since he'd actually talked to her? Really talked, not just exchanged texts?
"Hey, Ma. I'm fine. I'm sorry I haven't called sooner, I just~" He stopped, searching for words that weren't lies but weren't the whole truth either. "Things have been complicated."
"Complicated how? Cedric, you can't just disappear for over a week and expect me not to worry. Your apartment is~" She stopped abruptly.
Cedric's stomach dropped. "My apartment is what?"
A pause. A long one. When Linda spoke again, her voice was careful. Too careful. "I went by there yesterday. Wanted to drop off some groceries, that pasta salad you like. The building manager said you moved out."
Shit.
"Ma, I can explain~"
"He said you haven't been there in weeks. That someone came and cleared out your things." Another pause. "Cedric, what's going on?"
This was it. The moment where he had to decide how much truth to tell. Cedric opened his eyes, staring at the bookshelves full of veterinary texts, at the window overlooking a garden he'd only seen in magazines before. At the life he was building in the shadow of something dangerous.
"I'm staying with someone," he said finally. "Someone who's... helping me."
"Helping you how?"
"Getting back on my feet. Going back to school, actually. I'm enrolling for spring semester at Cornell. Online classes to start, but~" His voice cracked slightly. "Ma, I'm going back to school. For real this time."
The silence on the other end was deafening. He could hear his mother breathing, could picture her standing in her tiny kitchen with the phone pressed to her ear, trying to process what he'd just said.
"Cornell," she said finally. Her voice was thick. "Your veterinary program?"
"Yeah."
"Cedric." She was crying now, he could hear it. "Baby, that's~ How? How can you afford that?"
"The person I'm staying with. They're helping me pay for it."
"Who is this person?" The worry was back now, sharper. "Cedric, are you in trouble? Because if you owe someone money, if you got yourself into something dangerous trying to help us—"