“Can I ask you something now?” I said quietly.
“Of course.” He set his mug down and turned to face me fully. “I guess tonight’s—well, this morning’s—the time for questions.”
“I know what happened with Devyn. I saw it on the news back then. I remember.” My voice was careful. I didn’t want to push, but I needed to know. “But I don’t know how YOU felt about it. The real story. Not what the media said.”
He went still for a moment, and I wondered if I’d crossed a line. But then he reached for my hand, threaded our fingers together.
“The media said a lot of shit,” he started, the pain clear in every word. “That she was running from me. That we’d been fighting. That I was controlling. None of that was true.”
“I didn’t believe it,” I said quickly. “For what it’s worth.”
“I appreciate that.” He took a breath, and I could see him deciding how much to share. “The truth is, I was supposed to pick her up that night. We’d made plans, but my agent needed me for a meeting that ran late. I told her I’d come get her in the morning instead.” His jaw tightened. “Much like all women, if she made her mind up, there was nothing I could say. She decided to drive, and a drunk driver ran a red light. If I’d just gone when I said I would, she would’ve been with me.”
“Vinny...” I squeezed his hand.
“I knew it wasn’t my fault—I wasn’t stupid. But that didn’t stop the guilt from sitting on me.”
He studied me for a second. “Your pops? I get him. That feeling like you should’ve been there, like you could’ve changed something… that shit don’t let go easy. You carry it whether you want to or not.”
Something clicked. The way he’d talked about my dad earlier, it wasn’t just empathy. It was from experience.
“But it’s been over a decade for him,” I said, trying to make sense of it. “Four years for you. Shouldn’t he be... I don’t know, further along?”
“Grief doesn’t work like that, baby. There’s no timeline. No ‘should be over it by now.’”
He pulled me closer. “Your pops lost his wife, his partner, the mother of his child. That’s a whole different kind of grief. Add in the guilt of being a fire captain who couldn’t save her? That’s layered. So layered therapy may be the only way to help. He lost his person.”
“So, what, I’m just supposed to wait forever? How is that fair to me?”
“No. You’re allowed to want your dad back. You’re allowed to be hurt that he’s not showing up.” He cupped my face, made me look at him. “But understanding where he is doesn’t mean you have to accept it. You can love him and still expect better. You can have compassion and still have boundaries. We all have choices.”
I let that sit for a minute, turning it over in my mind.
“It took me four years to even think about opening up again,” he continued. “And I had basketball to distract me. I had Stetson, Omni, and my mom. I had a whole support system.” His thumb brushed across my cheek. “Your pops went back to work, but that’s also where the guilt lives. Every fire he fights probably reminds him of the one he wasn’t there for. Some people heal by facing it. Some people need distance. He might need more time. Or he might need someone to reach him where he is.”
“Like you did,” I said softly. “When you decided to pursue me even though you were scared.”
“Exactly. Sometimes we need somebody to stop us from staying stuck. To remind us that living isn’t betraying the people we lost. And before you ask or even think it, I’ll never have you living in Devyn’s shadow. I’ve made the choice to move forward.”
I pressed my forehead to his, feeling the weight of everything we’d shared—my mom, his Devyn, my dad’s distance, his guilt. We were both carrying so much.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“Always, baby. Always.”
We stayed like that for a while, holding each other, letting the morning light fill the room. Eventually, I had to pull away, had to start thinking about getting home. I had a day off, but there were things I needed to do. And if I stayed much longer, I’d never want to leave.
“I should go,” I said, even though I didn’t want to.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know. But you have practice, and I need to use my day off for something productive.”
“Okay, but my heart is broken.”
“Obsessed,” I said.
He helped me collect my things while I got dressed. We moved around each other easily, quiet but comfortable. When I was ready, he picked up my bags and walked me to the door. Brixxi was already at my side, waiting.
