There was another pause.
“No,” Marco admitted. “I don’t.”
For some reason, that made my heart race worse than anything else.
He didn’t mind. It was almost as if he genuinely wanted to help me. Marco was good at that, wasn’t he? He’d been doing it since the moment we met—stepping in, helping out, smoothingthings over without me even having to ask. It was one of those soft, frustrating things about him that I could never quite wrap my head around. Why did he always seem to know what I needed even before I did?
And why did it feel so dangerous—so risky—to let him in like this?
I’d been here a million times.
I’d climbed these steps as a kid, sprinted up them when I was late for curfew, sat on this porch with my sister drinking coffee, and curled up here alone on the nights when the world had felt too big and I’d needed to shrink back into the person I used to be.
This house was my last safe place. The one place I’d managed to keep separate from everything else—Max, the Outfit, every mistake I’d ever made.
And yet somehow I was letting Marco cross even this last boundary.
What scared me the most was how easily it happened—how naturally he slipped through the cracks I didn’t even know I had.
“Okay,” I said, forcing the chaotic feelings out with a breath. “Ground rules.”
Marco arched a brow. “Ground rules?”
“Yes.” I straightened my spine. “You’re a guest. That means no brooding in the corner looking like you have bodies in your trunk.”
His lip twitched. “I don’t have bodies in my trunk.”
I crossed my arms. “No, but you look like you might.”
“Next rule?”
I hesitated, realizing suddenly that I hadn’t thought this through as thoroughly as I’d pretended to. “No talking about work. Or Max. Or Cillian. Or ... anything related to that whole world, okay? Just for tonight, we pretend none of that exists.”
He nodded slowly, thoughtfully, like he understood more than I meant for him to. “You got it.”
Ever since Marco had stepped into my life, it had been a continuous struggle between wanting him closer and needing him gone. No matter how much I tried to deny it—and I did—he’d always been the one person truly looking out for me. Even when I fought him, even when I pretended I didn’t need him, Marco had been quietly at my side, cleaning up my messes and stepping in whenever things threatened to spin out of control.
I’d never had someone do that before—not like this. Not without a hidden agenda. I’d been dependent on people plenty of times for money, for safety, for survival, but emotionally? Letting someone see behind my walls, admitting—even to myself—that I needed someone else? That was terrifying. That was dangerous. It was the one dependency I’d sworn never to allow myself, and yet here I was, dangerously close to relying on Marco in exactly that way.
It scared me more than any physical danger ever had.
Because Marco wasn’t supposed to be this person for me. He wasn’t supposed to be the one I trusted. Yet he’d become the one constant in my life. And standing beside him now, looking at this porch that represented everything simple and safe and good I’d ever known, I realized with a sinking certainty I’d already let him in.
I turned away, staring at the familiar front door and trying to calm the riot in my chest.
I was terrified of needing Marco. Even more terrified of how much I already did.
“Ready?” he asked.
I hesitated.
This wastoo much.
Too fast.
Marco studied me for a second. “You seem nervous.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not nervous.”
