Chapter 8
The morning sun bled through the clouds, casting golden streaks across the horizon as Jessy stepped onto her porch. The air was crisp, charged with something she couldn't quite name. Rocky sat at her feet, his eyes fixated across the road, where the Sebastiano house stood still and silent like a secret waiting to be told.
Dave hadn't shown himself since yesterday's brief, unsettling encounter. Jessy couldn't tell if she was relieved or disappointed. His words still echoed in her ears: "I'll be around." The simplicity of the phrase masked something heavier beneath it—an unspoken promise, or a warning.
Her fingers brushed her belly as she sat down on the porch swing, the motion soothing, even when her mind wasn't. The baby was growing. She could feel it. There was a presence inside her that somehow made every moment feel more important. Every breath she took felt shared.
She leaned back, closing her eyes. But the peace was short-lived.
"Jessy."
Her eyes flew open. Dave stood at the edge of her porch steps, hands in his jacket pockets, his face unreadable. His sudden appearance didn't startle Rocky, who merely wagged his tail.
"How long have you been standing there?" she asked, voice rough with surprise.
"Long enough to know you're not sleeping well," he said, gaze scanning her face like he could read the fatigue behind her guarded expression. "I didn't mean to scare you."
"You didn't," she lied.
He walked up the steps slowly, stopping just short of invading her space. She could smell oil, earth, and a subtle note of something sharper—like leather and fire.
"What do you want, Dave?" she asked, unsure if she meant it as a challenge or a plea.
He took a moment, like the answer needed permission to exist.
"I want to talk. And I figured it might go better in daylight." His smile was brief, almost reluctant.
Jessy nodded, motioning to the empty seat beside her. "Sit then."
He did.
For a while, neither of them spoke. The swing creaked between them. The tension wasn't hostile, but it was undeniable—thick with all the things left unsaid.
"You're not like your brothers," she finally murmured.
Dave chuckled under his breath, his eyes fixed ahead. "That's one way to put it."
"I meant it as a compliment," she said, glancing at him. "They have a way of walking into a room like they own it. You don't do that."
"No," he said. "I walk in like I know how fast I could burn it down."
Jessy swallowed hard, watching him carefully. "Is that something you want people to know about you?"
He turned his head slowly to look at her, and for a moment, all his walls dropped. "I want you to know. I don't play games, Jessy. Not with you."
There it was again—that pull. Like gravity had chosen him as its anchor and her heart couldn't resist. She tried to shake it off.
"I don't understand what's happening," she whispered. "You show up and suddenly my whole world feels… off."
Dave's jaw tightened. "It's not off. It's waking up."
Jessy laughed bitterly. "What does that even mean?"
"It means," he said, leaning closer, "that sometimes, the right kind of wrong walks into your life, and you either run… or you let it change you."
She stared at him. "And what are you? The right kind of wrong?"
"I'm the truth no one wants to look at," he said softly. "But I won't lie to you. Not about who I am. I've done things. Ugly things. But I've never hurt someone who didn't deserve it."
Jessy looked away. "That's not exactly comforting, Dave."
"No," he said. "But it's honest."
They sat in silence again, the wind brushing Jessy's hair across her face. Dave reached out instinctively, tucking a strand behind her ear. His fingers grazed her skin and lingered for a heartbeat too long. Jessy didn't flinch, and that terrified her more than anything.
"Why me?" she asked, the words trembling on her lips. "Why are you even here?"
He drew in a breath. "Because you look at me like I'm not already damned."
Her heart stuttered. She stood abruptly, needing distance, needing space to breathe.
"I have a child to think about," she said, hand on her stomach. "I can't be... pulled into something dangerous."
Dave stood too, slower. "I know. That's why I'm being careful. But don't mistake that for weakness. If anything touches you, Jessy—anything—I'll deal with it."
She shook her head, not ready to hear that. "You don't even know me."
"I know enough to care," he said. "And that's already more dangerous than anything else I've touched."
Before she could respond, a loud crack shattered the morning calm. Jessy jumped, instinctively shielding her stomach. Dave's head snapped toward the sound—an engine backfiring, maybe, or a shot. Jessy couldn't tell.
Dave was already moving.
"Get inside," he ordered, low and urgent.
She hesitated.
"Now, Jessy."
His voice was sharp, commanding—and something in her trusted him enough to obey.
She rushed back into the house, pulling Rocky in behind her. She locked the door and peeked out the window, watching Dave vanish around the side of the house like a ghost in denim.
Minutes passed.
Silence.
Then a knock on the door—gentler than she expected.
Dave stood there again, composed but tense. "It was nothing. Just a kid messing around with a busted muffler a few blocks down. I checked."
She let out a breath, sinking to the couch. "I'm not used to this kind of tension."
He gave her a half-smile. "Welcome to my world."
She stared at him, frustration growing. "This can't keep happening. Whatever this is between us… it can't pull me into your world. I won't let it."
Dave stepped inside, closing the door behind him. "You think you have a choice?"
Jessy looked up sharply.
He softened. "I don't mean that the way it sounds. I just mean... whatever this is—it started already. We can't undo it."
"I don't believe in fate," she said.
He moved closer. "Maybe not. But you believe in feelings, don't you?"
She wanted to scream yes. And no. And maybe. Instead, she said nothing.
His hand hovered over her shoulder for a moment, then he pulled it back. "I'm not asking you to decide anything now. I just want you to know—whatever happens next, I've got you. Even if it's from a distance."
Jessy swallowed hard, the war in her chest growing louder. "What if you're the thing I need to stay away from, Dave?"
His eyes locked with hers. "Then you'll have to try harder to push me away."
He turned and left without another word, the door closing with a soft click behind him.
Jessy stood frozen, hands shaking. Her world was shifting. Whether she wanted it or not, it was changing fast. Dave Sebastiano was not just a man—he was a storm. And part of her wanted to run into the rain.