Ch. 20: S’mores and Secrets

The sweetest memories held the darkest clues.

The ride home from prison is silent.
Same as it was driving there.
But this silence feels heavier.

Before, it was about surviving the moment—seeing him.
Now, it’s about what I said.
That I spoke.
That I remembered.

I glance at my brothers—Gio behind the wheel, Vince beside him.
They look calm. In control. Unshakable.
But I know better now.
They’re not quiet because they’re strong.
They’re quiet because they’re shaken too.

Every time I uncover something new—about my life, about them—it shakes us all.
We’re all reacting in real time.
No one’s ready.

This isn’t just grief.
It’s a war.
Not of fists—but of facts.
And the battlefield is memory.
Silence.
Fear.

A war none of us trained for.

After the poker game, I learned something:
DeLucas don’t like to lose.

And right now, it feels like we are constantly losing.

I glance out the window as the city blurs past.
My mind drifts to Leo.
To the birthday trips with Mom.

All those moments I brushed off as coincidence… now make sense.
The way he looked at me.
The way Mom was around him—unlike she was with anyone else.

Shame rises in my chest.
Anger. Grief.
How could I not have known?

I’m furious at myself—for resenting a man I thought abandoned me…
when really, he was there all along.

I look up at the sky, searching for answers.
But I hear her instead.

Mom.
Her voice—soft, certain, loving.

“The world won’t always treat you kindly, my love. That’s why you must.”

I close my eyes.
Exhale.
Let the anger go.

Then I pull out the photos from my bag.
And this time, I don’t look at them to prove anything.
This time, I look to understand.

There’s one from my eighth birthday.
My face is smeared with marshmallow and chocolate.
I’m laughing, arms outstretched—reaching for the s’more Leo was making just for me.

Flashback:

“Mine, mine, mine!” I squeal, arms stretched wide, ready for my next s’more.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough, mi amore?” Mom asks with that grin,

“One more, Mommy, please?” I beg, giving her my best puppy-dog eyes.

Leo laughs and turns to Mom. “Yeah, one more, Mommy, please,” he echoes, mimicking my expression with exaggerated puppy-dog eyes of his own.

Mom rolls her eyes and grins. “You two are trouble,” she says, then turns to me with a mock-serious voice. “One more.”

“YAY!” I cheer as Leo hands me the s’more.

I sit back, legs swinging, body bouncing in pure joy as I bite into it—gooey chocolate and marshmallow oozing out of the graham crackers. This was my birthday tradition. My once-a-year treat.

Mom always said, “Treats are like time machines, my love. We only have them once in a while so they stay tied to a memory. That way, one bite can take you right back to the best days.”

I glance over at her and Leo, sitting side by side by the fire. He gently places his hand on top of hers, and they laugh, looking into each other’s eyes.

“Mommy, marry Leo,” I blurt out.

Leo quickly pulls his hand back. Mom’s eyes widen.

“What?” she asks, startled.

I look at them seriously. “I don’t have a daddy. Marry him, Mommy.”

They exchange a look. A deep, sad one.

“Please?” I whisper, unleashing an even better version of my puppy-dog eyes.

Mom’s eyes well up. She wipes a tear away and walks over to me, Leo following close behind. They sit beside me on the blanket.

“We can’t, my love,” Mom says softly.

“Why not?” I pout, confused.

She glances at Leo, like she’s about to fall apart.

He takes a breath and gently tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.
“Because sometimes,” he says, “even when two people care about each other a whole lot… the world makes it hard for them to be together.”

I frown. “That’s dumb.”

He chuckles. “Yes. It is.”

Mom wraps her arms around me and pulls me into her lap.

I look up at Leo. “Even if you can’t marry Mommy… can you still be my almost-daddy?”

Leo’s eyes fill with tears. He nods. “I’d be honored.”

I smile—chocolate and marshmallow all over my face—and take another bite of my s’more.

End of flashback.

I smile at the memory.
I’d asked Mom more than a few times about marrying Leo.
She always brushed it off quickly. But now I get it.
She didn’t need a ring. She was already his.

All those times I tried to set her up…
All those nights I asked why she never went on dates…
She already had someone.

“Sofia.”

I blink, pulled from my thoughts. Vince is turned around in his seat, looking at me.

I give him a look—I’m listening.

“You okay?” he asks gently.

I give him a thumbs-up.

His expression falls—like maybe he thought I was going to speak again.
Hoped I would.

He and Gio exchange a glance.
Gio meets my eyes through the rearview mirror.

“Would you like me to set up an appointment with Kaylee tomorrow?”

He’s asking, but we both know it’s more than that.
He wants to help.
He remembers what Mom wrote to Vince in her letter—how I shut down, how I push people away.
This is his way of trying to step in before I disappear inside myself.

But I don’t want to see Kaylee. Not yet.
So I shake my head—firm, deliberate, unmistakable.

“Alright,” Vince says, voice calm. “We’ll keep it for next week.”
He glances at Gio, who clearly isn’t thrilled but nods anyway.

Silence settles again. Not awkward—just heavy.
Like all of us are carrying something too big to put into words.

Then Gio speaks.
“You’ve been through a lot, Sofia. Since February… it’s been one thing after another. And you’ve handled more than most people ever will. But just so you know… you’re not the only one who’s been shocked.”

Vince adds, “We’re discovering things too. Relearning our lives, just like you.”

I keep my eyes on the window, but I’m listening.

“We’re in it with you,” Vince says. Steady. Sure. “All the way.”

The car stops at a red light.
Something about the pause makes me turn to face them.

Gio meets my gaze. “You’re not alone, sorellina.”

I nod, but my chest tightens.
I’ve never felt more alone than I have since Mom died.
Never been more confused, more lost.
I’m learning my entire life was a lie—rediscovering who I am without the one person who was always my constant.
It hurts.
It’s hard.
And I don’t know how much more I can take.

I lean my head back, close my eyes to stop the tears, and swallow the lump in my throat.

Then—I hear a seatbelt click.
Movement.

Vince slides into the back seat beside me.
He doesn’t say a word. Just wraps an arm around me and pulls me into his chest.

God, I hate when they do this—because the tears I’ve worked so hard to hold back never survive it.

I cry.
Not quietly.
Not politely.

I cry for my mom.
For Leo.
For the father I never got to know.
For the future that feels like a storm I can’t predict.

And for these brothers—who keep trying their best to remind me I’m not alone.

Eventually, the tears slow. But I stay in Vince’s arms a little longer.
It’s the safest I’ve felt in days.

I’ve cried more in front of my brothers than anyone else in my entire life.
At this point, I’ve stopped being embarrassed by it.

When I finally pull away, I look up at Vince and whisper, “Thank you.”

He smiles and kisses the top of my head.

“Always,” he says.

I glance outside and realize Gio is pulling into the school parking lot.
I look at Vince, confused.

He sighs. “Tony has a baseball game. We didn’t have time to tell you.”

I shoot him a look that clearly says: Do we have to go?

Vince just smiles. “We never miss a game, sorellina.”

I wince and exhale as Gio parks.
I’m not ready to face anyone from school. Not after yesterday. Not after the fight on my first day.

Vince notices. He reaches over and gently places his hand on my head. “You’re with us. No one’s gonna bother you.”

I close my eyes, inhale, and nod.
Then step out of the car with Vince and Gio flanking me like human shields.

The shift in atmosphere hits me immediately.
The baseball field is a loud, living contrast to the sterile silence of the prison.
Bats cracking. Balls smacking into gloves.
Laughter. Shouting. Chatter. Life.

The stands are packed. People move in every direction.
Gio and Vince walk like they own the place, moving in sync toward the top left corner of the bleachers. No hesitation. No looking around.
Like it’s their regular spot.

I follow, keeping my head down, not making eye contact.
Yesterday was enough attention to last me a year.

Our team is in burgundy and cream. The other team wears purple and gold.
Players stretch and toss balls across the field—still warming up.

I sit between my brothers and try to relax.
The game starts. Vince points to shortstop. “That’s Tony. Number one.”

I nod.

“You play?” he asks.

I nod again.

“What position?”

I raise an eyebrow and point to Tony.

Vince smirks. “Must be in the family.”

I shrug.

“Are you hungry?” Gio asks.

I shake my head.

“We’ll eat after,” he says. “But if you get hungry, let us know.”

I nod again, offering him a soft smile—my silent thank-you.

The game begins. The first batter slams a grounder toward second, but Tony sprints, dives, and snags it before it hits the dirt.
First out.

I blink in disbelief.
Damn, I think. My brother’s good.

Vince lets out a two-finger whistle. “First out!” he shouts.

Gio claps. “Great catch!”

We settle into the rhythm of the game.
Two outs in the first inning when a water bottle suddenly enters my view.

“Here. Got you a water.”

I look up—and freeze.
It’s Sal.

I had no idea he was coming back.

I take the bottle and nod. My silent thank you.

“You missed Tony’s catch,” Gio says as he takes a bottle from Sal.

“I saw it while I was waiting in line. Didn’t hear me screaming?”

“No,” Gio says flatly.

Sal grins. “Well, I saw it. I cheered. It was a sick catch.”

He plops down in front of us, handing Vince his water before cracking his own open.

My brothers make small talk—asking Sal if he stopped home first or came straight to the game.
I don’t really pay attention. Small talk has never interested me, especially now.

My mind is still spinning.
I keep replaying what I just learned—that I’ve always known my father.
That all those bedtime stories might’ve held clues I missed.

As they talk, I scan the crowd—half looking for anyone familiar, half wondering if anyone stands out.
Nothing seems out of the ordinary.
But I do notice the glances.
People looking over, whispering, nudging the person beside them.
They glance at me, then whisper again. Then look back.

It doesn’t feel dangerous.
More like… small-town gossip.

By now, Tony is up to bat.

“Let’s go, Tony!” Sal shouts.
Gio claps. Vince calls, “Eye on the ball!”

The first pitch is a ball.

“Good eye! Good eye!” Sal yells.

Tony resets. The next pitch comes fast—he swings.
It’s a solid hit, soaring into the outfield between center and right.

My brothers shoot to their feet, cheering.
Even Gio is fired up.

I stand too, trying to see where the ball lands—trying to see what base Tony makes it to.
But with giant tree Sal in front of me, I still can’t see.

Vince notices. Without a word, he lifts me up so I can stand on the bench and get a better view.

Tony rounds first.
He’s going for second.

My brothers are yelling at him to run.
The right fielder hurls the ball toward second base.

It’s going to be close.

“Down!” all three of them shout in unison.

Tony slides—dirt flying everywhere.

“Safe!” the umpire calls.

My brothers erupt, high-fiving each other.
Then they turn to me, grinning, pulling me into it with high fives of my own.

I laugh. Really laugh.
And smile—because for once, it feels easy.

They’re genuinely proud of Tony.
Genuinely proud to be here.

And as I sit back down, I realize this moment feels… different.

They show up for each other.
They cheer each other on.
And when they say we’re in this together—I believe them.

This sibling bond they have—it’s nothing like the only-child life I knew.
It’s louder. Messier.
But it’s also stronger.
And for a little while, I forget everything else.

And I just enjoy being with them.

The game ends, and with my brothers there—it was actually really entertaining.
Tony’s team won, and Tony?
He was really good.
I was honestly impressed.

Back home, I used to go to a lot of sporting events.
Small-town life meant high school games were a big deal.
Everyone showed up—it was how we socialized.
Though most of the time, I was playing in the games, not watching from the stands.

Maybe next year… I’ll try out for the softball team.
It’s strange, but kind of comforting to think about that—
Being a normal teenager again.
Playing sports. Making friends.
Living a regular, low-drama life… instead of the full-blown soap opera my world has become.

A hand touches my back.
I glance over—it’s Vince.

He meets my eyes. “Let’s go grab Tony and get something to eat.”

Sal’s already halfway down the bleachers.

Vince leads the way. I follow behind him. Gio trails at the back like a silent bodyguard.

We all meet up with Tony just as he’s walking out of the dugout, carrying his gear.

“Dude, that opening catch?” Sal says, reaching out to high-five him.
“That was awesome.”

“Great job, kid,” Vince adds, giving him a high five of his own.

“Hell of a game,” Gio says, high-fiving him and slapping his back.

Tony looks at me.
I smile and give him a thumbs-up.

He grins and ruffles my hair. “I’ll take that as a good job.”

I swat his hand away, rolling my eyes.

Tony turns to Gio. “I’m starving.”

Gio raises an eyebrow. “Let’s go eat.”

Tony and Sal drive in their own cars, while I ride with Gio and Vince.
We all end up pulling into Rosa & Pat’s at the exact same time—three cars, lined up in sync.

The five of us walk in together.

It’s a lot busier than when I came here earlier this week.
Most of the tables are full. Extra servers are buzzing around, and there’s a host at the front.

The second she sees us, the host turns her head and yells, “Rosa!”

Rosa—mid-drink handoff at the bar—glances over.
Her face lights up. “My boys!” she calls, hurrying toward us.

Then her eyes land on me. “My girl!”

She hugs me first.

“Now we’re chopped liver,” Sal mumbles.

Rosa hears him and swats his arm. “Oh, you—shush!”
Then she hugs Sal and the rest of the crew, rapid-fire.

“Go, go, go—sit down! I’ll get Pat!”

“Rosa, I’m starving,” Tony groans dramatically.

“Double bacon smashburger. Grilled onions. Extra sauce. Coming right up.”

“You’re the best!” Tony grins.

“Hey, what about me?” Sal chimes in. “I’m hungry too!”

Rosa laughs. “I’ve got you, drama queen. I’ll put your order in.”

Vince ushers us toward a booth—the same one he and I sat in last time.
I slide in, wondering if this is their booth, or if they’re just creatures of habit.

Between this and their unspoken spot at the bleachers earlier…
Yeah. Definitely creatures of habit.

They might need to change that.
Routines are bad when someone might be trying to kill you.

Change your pattern every three days. It throws anyone following you off.
That’s something Mom always said.

And suddenly—my chest tightens.

What if the man who ran us off the road had been watching?
What if he knew we’d be home?
What if Mom saw him before he was ready—and that’s what triggered it?

The questions swirl again. Unrelenting. Exhausting.
When does it stop?

“Hello?”

A hand waves in front of my face.

I blink and snap out of it.

“Where’d you go?” Sal asks from across the booth.

I shrug.

Vince wraps an arm around me. “You okay?”

I nod.

“What do you want to eat?” Gio asks, handing me a menu.

Honestly? Tony’s burger sounded amazing.

I point at Tony.

“Me?” Tony raises an eyebrow.

I nod, then glance at Gio and Vince, hoping they get it.

“The same thing Tony got?” Gio confirms.

I smile and nod.

Gio nods back, locking in the order.

Rosa returns with a round of drinks—mostly waters, except for Sal and Tony, who look like they got Coke or something close.

She hands me my glass with a smile. “I brought you water again—since that’s what you wanted last time. But I can get you something else.”

I shake my head, smiling. Silently saying water’s perfect.

Rosa looks at us with a warm, almost dreamy smile—like she’s taking a mental picture.
Then she turns her head and calls out, “Pat!”

Pat’s voice answers before he’s even in view. “I’m right here, Rosa. No need to shout.”

He walks over and stops at our table.

“I just can’t believe it,” she says, placing a hand on the back of a chair. “All of you… here together.”

Her voice cracks a little. She presses a hand over his mouth, as if holding something back.
“If your parents could see you all right now…”

She shakes her head, her eyes misty.

Pat gently places an arm around Rosa’s shoulders as she quickly collects herself.

“I’m sorry,” she says, wiping at her eyes. “It’s just… a lot.”

Pat clears his throat and turns to Tony. “So? How’d we do?”

“We won,” Tony says proudly.

“That’s my boy,” Pat grins. “Now, what are we eating?”

“I already put in Tony and Sal’s orders,” Rosa says.

Then she turns to me. “What about you, sweetheart?”

I glance at Gio.

“She’ll have what Tony’s having,” he answers.

Rosa gives me a soft smile, then looks to Gio and Vince as they place their orders.

Suddenly, Rosa gasps like she just remembered something important.
She looks at me with a hopeful glint in her eye. “How about a homemade chocolate milkshake? With our famous whipped cream?”

I light up.
Milkshakes and homemade whipped cream were one of my favorite treats with Mom.
She clearly knew her well.

I nod, a full smile forming.

“You have so much of your mom in you,” Rosa says softly.

I smile back—silently thanking her.

“I want a milkshake!” Tony pipes up.

“Anyone else?” Rosa asks, looking around.

The others shake their heads.

“We’ll be back,” Rosa says, and she and Pat disappear into the kitchen.

And just like that—it’s back to the five of us.
Together.
Safe.
At least for now.

“All right, spill,” Sal says, looking between Gio and Vince.
“Yeah, fill us in,” Tony adds.

Both Gio and Vince glance at me.
I look down, not ready to meet their eyes.

“What?” Sal says. “Tell us.”

Vince gently nudges me. I glance up at him and shrug.

“It’s okay,” he says softly, before turning to Gio to take the lead.

Gio begins to explain—to Tony and Sal—about the safe. The photos.
And how I’d known our father all along…
How he’d visited me every year on my birthday.

“What the hell?” Sal says, stunned.

Before the conversation can go further, Rosa and Pat arrive with our food and milkshakes.
And wow—it all looks amazing.

I love a good burger. And this one looks perfect.

“Let me know if it’s not good,” Rosa says.

“What? I cooked it,” Pat adds, feigning offense. “It’s delicious.”

“Just in case. She might like it a certain way,” Rosa replies with a wink.

“She’ll love it,” Pat says confidently.

I smile at their banter as they head back to the kitchen. My brothers turn their attention back to the conversation.

Thankfully, they don’t mention that I spoke.
I’m grateful.
Tony and Sal would pester me nonstop—and I’m not ready.

“Do you have the photos?” Tony asks.

I nod.

“Give ’em here,” Sal says.

“Yeah, I want to see,” Tony adds.

I glance at them—and their hands, coated in burger grease and fry salt.

“Come on,” Sal pushes.

I raise an eyebrow and tilt my head toward his hands.

“What?” Sal asks, exasperated.

I point again—this time more directly—at his messy fingers.

He groans, grabs a napkin, and wipes his hands dramatically before holding them up. “Happy now?”

I roll my eyes, shake my head, and finally reach into my purse. I hand them the photos.

“Whoa,” Tony says, eyes scanning the image.
“So that’s where he went every year,” Sal murmurs.
“It doesn’t even look like him,” Tony adds.

“That’s the point,” Vince says simply.

While they’re talking, I take my first bite of the burger.
It’s heaven.
Hands-down one of the best burgers I’ve ever had.
And the milkshake? Rich, creamy, and thick—exactly the kind Mom and I used to share.
I take another sip. It almost brings tears to my eyes. It was like Rosa knew this wasn’t just a milkshake—it was a memory.

“So… where’s this safe?” Sal asks, breaking my thoughts.

I look up, but Gio answers for me.
“I’m going to assume it’s in Sofia’s room.”

I nod.

“What else is in there?” Sal continues.

“Dad said it’s similar to Mom’s,” Vince says.

“He wrote us letters?” Sal asks, disbelief etched in his face.

“Yes,” Gio confirms.

“Can we read them?” Tony asks.

“If you wish,” Gio replies.

Tony shrugs like it’s no big deal—but I know it is.

“Anything else?” Sal presses.

Gio, Vince, and I share a look.

Tony and Sal pause mid-bite, waiting.

“He’s coming home for Easter,” Gio says.

Both Sal and Tony choke a little on their burgers.

“What?” they say in unison.

“He’s coming home?” Tony asks.
“For good?” Sal adds.

“No,” Vince says. “Just for Easter.”

There’s a beat.

“Anything else?” Sal asks again.

Gio glances at me.
I lower my gaze and take another bite of my burger.

“No,” Gio says.

We finish eating, the conversation trailing off into more casual chatter.

Rosa and Pat join us here and there, refilling drinks, teasing the boys, sliding in and out of stories about their childhood.

When we finally get up to leave, Rosa hands us a big box tied in ribbon.

“Fresh batch this morning.” she says.

Tony tries to snatch the box—naturally.
But I don’t let go.

This time, I win.

We pull into the driveway and all five of us walk into the house.

“Alright,” Sal says, turning to me. “Show us the safe.”

We head into my room. I place the box of cookies on my desk.
I crouch down, reach under the bed, and pull it out—then hand it over.

“How’d you get it open?” Tony asks.

I walk over to my nightstand and grab the key, holding it up.

“You found that in the room too?” Vince asks.

I nod.

Sal places the safe on my bed.

“You’re kind of scary,” Tony mutters.

Sal scoffs. “She’s a fourteen-year-old girl—but she did beat your ass.”

“She didn’t beat my ass,” Tony snaps.

“Hey,” Vince says, snapping his fingers. The warning is clear.

Gio opens the safe and starts sorting through the contents. Inside are stacks of photos—and five sealed letters, each one addressed to one of us.

None of them open theirs.

We all sit on my bed, photos spread out like puzzle pieces.
I keep sorting. So do they.

“So, wait… you went to this same place every year on your birthday?” Sal asks.

I nod, still flipping through pictures.

Gio studies the empty safe, like he’s checking for a false bottom.

Tony holds up a photo. “What is he wearing? Is that a lumberjack shirt?”
He shakes his head. “Unreal.”

The rest of them laugh softly, throwing comments back and forth as they sift through the photos.

I reach for a new stack.
Familiar memories flood in as I flip through—quiet moments, birthday smiles, the woods, the fire pit.

Then I stop.
Something catches my eye.
I flip back one photo.

No.
It can’t be.

I gasp.

Three of my brothers look up.

Gio suddenly presses something inside the safe. A soft click. A small panel falls open. Revealing a thin chip.

“I found something,” Gio holds it up.

My hand trembles slightly. I lift the photo. Unable to hold it in any longer.

“It's him,” my whisper, raw but clear.

Sal and Tony freeze. Staring at me like I’m a ghost.

“She spoke!” Sal shouts. His finger pointing.

My hand swings. Pointing at the man in the photo.

It’s the same man who ran us off the road.

The man who killed my mom.