The paramedics arrive, but it’s too late. They pronounce Joey dead at 11:47 p.m.
I fix the time in my head.
Eleven forty-seven.
Someone is going to answer for it.
I want to punch something. Break every bottle behind the bar. Instead, I stand there like a statue while they bag the body and Starla clears out the customers.
Three hours of police questions later, I’m finally dragging myself through my front door. The penthouse is quiet, warm light spilling from the bedroom where Nina’s sketching in bed. She looks up when I appear in the doorway, a sleepy smile on her face that fades the second she sees my expression.
“What’s wrong?”
The simple question breaks something loose in my chest. I cross to the bed and pull her into my arms, burying my face in her neck. She smells like vanilla and pencil shavings and home, and for the first time in hours, I can breathe.
She doesn’t push for answers. Just holds me while I hold her, letting me take what I need. I don’t cry—I don’t know if I even can—but I let myself feel the full weight of Joey’s death for the first time tonight.
When I finally find my voice, everything comes spilling out. I tell her about Lightning and the investigation. About Joey and how I sent him undercover. How young he was, how he trusted me to keep him safe.
Then I get to the part that’s eating me alive.
“When he was dying on that floor, all I could see was Austin,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “Watching this kid’s life end before it really started, and suddenly I’m terrified the same thing could happen to my son.”
Nina doesn’t try to tell me it’s not my fault. Just keeps stroking my hair, waiting.
“I can’t understand how...” I start, then stop. Shake my head.
“How what?” she asks gently.
“How any man could just walk away from his kid. I mean, the thought of losing Austin...” I trail off again.
“Did... someone walk away from you?” she asks quietly.
I don’t usually talk about this stuff. Hell, I’ve barely mentioned it to Dario over the years. But Nina makes it easy somehow, and after spilling my guts about Joey, what’s one more secret? Might as well tell her everything.
“My father left when I was seven,” I say. “Just walked out one day when the family business got too real for him.”
Her fingers still in my hair. “Alessio...”
“You know what the worst part was? He didn’t even say goodbye. I came home from school and his closet was empty. My mom had to explain that Daddy wasn’t coming back.” I swallow hard. “I kept his cologne bottle for months, thinking if I saved it, maybe he’d come back for it.”
“I know what that’s like,” Nina says quietly. “Not the same way, but... I used to keep a stuffed rabbit my first foster mom gave me. Moved from house to house with this raggedy old thing, thinking if I took good enough care of it, maybe she’d want me back.”
A pang runs through me at the image of little Nina clinging to that toy. “Did she?”
“No. But I kept that rabbit until it fell apart.” She strokes my hair again. “Sometimes we hold onto things that represent the love we wish we had.”
“My Uncle Lorenzo found me one day, maybe six months later, spraying that cologne on my pillow so I could smell my dad when I went to sleep.” My voice cracks slightly. “He threw the bottle away and told me real men don’t abandon their families. But all I really learned that day was that people leave. So I made sure to never need anyone enough that it would destroy me when they walked away. Easier to keep things casual than risk feeling like that kid again, waiting for someone who’s never coming back.”
“God, Alessio. That must have been so hard.” Her voice is soft, full of understanding. “Learning that young that people can just... disappear. Foster care taught me the same thing.” She’s quiet for a moment, then adds, “But you didn’t keep us at arm’s length. You let Austin in. You let me in.”
I take a shaky breath and voice the fear that’s eating at me. “But what if I’m more like my dad than I want to admit? What if when things get hard, I do what he did and just walk away?”
Nina’s quiet for a long moment, then her hand cups my cheek. “You’re nothing like him. You’ve never given me a single reason to think you’d walk away. If anything, you don’t give me enough space.” She gives me a small smile. “You always want to stay and fight for us, even when I’m being difficult. Your father ran when things got complicated. You dig your heels in deeper.” Her thumb traces my cheekbone. “And the way you are with Austin...you stepped up the second you knew about him. I didn’t know your father, but I can’t imagine him ever doing that..”
I close my eyes and let her words sink in.
For a long moment, we just sit in the quiet. Her thumb traces along my cheekbone, and I focus on breathing. On believing what she just told me.
