Like I cracked open his chest with my bare hands, and ripped his heart out, flatlining him.
Then a stunned laugh buckles out of him.
“Che cazzo—non sei vera.”
He rubs his jaw,
turning his gaze to the sky.
“No, seriously—what the fuck is this?”
Another breathless laugh,
and it cuts worse than silence,
like he doesn't know whether to keep me
or run.
I’m rooted in heels and a black dress.
The cold night slices into me as I stand
raw and stupid after unloading everything.
He backs up a step, one hand gripping his hip,
the other curled around the back of his neck.
“That? Everything you just said?” His brow lifts. “That was the most honest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” His hand cutsthrough the air. “Nobody says shit like that out loud. They bury it. Twist it. Pretend it never happened. But you?—”
His head dips, hangs there a second.
Then he looks back up through his lashes.
“You said it straight. No filter.
“‘Cause you’re fuckin’ brave.”
I shake my head.
“Yeah, ya are.
“And yeah, I know you’re scared.”
His throat works around the words.
“I feel it. Every time you breathe.”
He raises both palms.
“But… fuck, Sonny. So am I.”
He turns, raking both hands through his hair as he blows out a breath. And when he faces me again, his eyes slam right back into mine.
“I felt it right away, Sonny. Dal primo sguardo. Ero già fottuto.” He steps in closer, palms raised as if to turn himself down a few notches. “Listen—you let me in. You didn’t have to tell me none of that shit, but you did. And I’m here—right fuckin’ here—I ain’t goin’ nowhere, Sonny. I’m not pretendin’, either.”
He says these things,
