“Maksim is everything, Mom.”
Why am I crying?
She reaches across the table and takes my hand. “Then he’s worth fighting for.”
Those words hit me deep, the truth in them igniting an ache in my throat.
“I know this won’t be easy,” I admit, voice shaky. “But it feels…right. Like it’s always been supposed to happen. I’m just afraid of the fallout with Aunt Leni.”
“Aunt Leni loves you like you’re her own. And there’s no one good enough for her son, except you, in her eyes. I promise.”
The warmth of her hand anchors me. And for the first time since last night, the chaos in my chest settles. I don’t know what’s coming next, what the world will throw our way, but I know what I feel. And that’s enough. It has to be.
Mom’s phone buzzes in her pocket. She opens the text message, and her eyes widen.
“Shit. I completely forgot AJ was staying after school today.” She rises and starts for the house. “Stay here. I’ll be back.”
I follow. “I can pick her up for you.”
“Are you sure? I saw you roll in on your bike.”
Of course she did.
“There’s an extra helmet in the garage. She’ll be fine.”
She nods and cups my face, placing a kiss on my forehead. “Don’t worry yourself too much, baby. It’ll all work out in the end. It always does.”
Forty
VALENTINA
Summer school. Coming from AJ, not surprising. Her first year of high school was…rocky, to say the least. Her rebellious streak reminds me a lot of Remi, which is probably why I love her so damn much.
The halls and smells of this place bring everything back. Some good memories, some not so much.
AJ isn’t answering my texts, and I’m tired of waiting. Her classroom’s empty, too, and I’m starting to wonder if she was ever here today, or if she cut class entirely…until the rising sound of chants and crashing furniture reaches my ears.
A fight.
I don’t even have to guess. I already know she’s involved.
The courtyard is chaos. A crowd of maybe twenty kids has formed a circle, half filming on their phones, the other half climbing onto chairs, yelling and egging the fighters on.
I scan the scene, hoping—stupidly—that my little sister’s just watching from the sidelines.
But I know better.
I shove my way through the mob until I reach the center, where AJ’s got a boy nearly twice her size locked in an armbar. He’s tapping out, but she’s not letting go.
“Alessandra!”
Her blue eyes meet mine, and she has the audacity to smirk.
“Let him go. Now.”
She arches a brow in defiance, twisting just an inch more. The boy squeals, his free hand slapping the floor in pain.
“Now, AJ!”
