“You’re just saying that.”
“Not at all.”
His hands settle on my hips, but he keeps space between us with Austin in the room. Austin’s picked up a book from the nightstand, already absorbed in whatever he’s found.
“So, will you?” Alessio asks, tilting his head in that way that reminds me exactly of Austin when he’s curious. “Redecorate?”
“Maybe.” I want to see how the first few days go before I start thinking about making this feel like home.
My phone alarm cuts through the moment. “Austin’s medicine time.”
We head back to the living room where our suitcases sit by the door. I dig through one for the pill dispenser, acutely awareof Alessio memorizing my every move. Like he’s learning the routine.
“I want to talk about Austin’s medical care,” Alessio starts as I count out pills. “I know I handled it wrong before, trying to tell you what to do.”
I pause, bracing for his usual bossiness, the kind that shuts down any argument. If this turns into another lecture, I’ll cut him off before he even starts.
“I’m not trying to control you,” he continues carefully. “But I want to help. With the bills, the medication, all of it. Let me take care of this part.”
I freeze with the pills in my palm, caught off guard by how different his approach is this time.
“You wouldn’t have to strip anymore if you didn’t want to,” he adds quietly. “But that’s your choice. I just want to make sure you have options.”
The relief that floods through me is overwhelming. It’s not that I want to keep stripping. I never wanted to do it in the first place. But I needed it to be my choice.
What he’s offering represents everything I’ve wanted and never thought I’d have. Security. A real partner. Someone who gives a damn about my son’s health without trying to control my life.
A sob tears out of me before I can stop it.
Alessio moves fast, taking the pills and pulling me against his chest. His hand rubs circles on my back while I fall apart, embarrassed but unable to stop.
I’ve been carrying everything alone for so long. Making impossible choices, sacrificing pieces of myself to keep Austin healthy and safe. Having someone offer to share that weight without demanding I surrender my independence feels like I can finally breathe.
When the tears stop, I wipe my face with shaking hands. Alessio cups my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. No judgment there. No impatience. Just understanding.
“I’m sorry. I just...” I take a shaky breath. “I’ve never had someone offer to help without strings attached.”
His smile is soft. Genuine. “The only condition is keeping you both safe. That's not negotiable. But the money, the help—that's not leverage. It's just what family does.”
I want to believe him. But depending on someone and trusting them are different things entirely. I’ll take his help and be grateful for it, but I won’t forget how to survive on my own. That’s a lesson learned in blood and tears, and I’m not unlearning it for anyone.
Even him.
“Thank you.” The words feel inadequate but genuine.
Whatever this becomes, whatever happens between us, he’s giving me hope. And for Austin’s sake, that’s enough.
For now.
30
ALESSIO
“Watch this!”
Austin bounces on the couch, jabbing his finger at the TV as Superman streaks across the screen in that ridiculous red cape.
It’s the hundredth time he’s said it in the past hour, but I keep my mouth shut. The kid’s excitement is infectious, and the fact that he wants to share this? It gets to me.
