His lips twitched. “We’re good. Promise. Whatever you and she decide, I will stand by it.”
I nodded, my throat tight.
“Do you like football?” he asked after a moment of silence.
“I love it,” I admitted.
He lifted the remote and changed the channel to a football game. “Good. Alessio wasn’t such a fan, and all he wanted to talk about was soccer. It’s cool, man, but I like the roughness of football. I have been working on watching it again. Some days I can. Some days… not so much, but I have faith I’ll get there eventually.”
“Me too with the roughness.” I relaxed in my seat, not wanting him to feel like his trauma was a bother to me. “I don’t know if you know this or not, but I was a quarterback in high school. I got scouted to play at Mayfair, but I was an idiot and just wanted to party and have fun. Look where that got me.”
“Really?” Evan shook his head at me. If I could see his eyes, I knew he’d be staring in disbelief at me.
“Yeah.” I laughed. “I was such an idiot when I was younger. Let me tell you about this party where I ran naked through campus and had the campus police chase me while I wore a sock on my dick…”
And that was it.
Conversation was light and effortless after that.
We both seemed comfortable, and I stayed until he eventually drifted off to sleep, his notebook clutched in his hand. Gently, I reached out and took it from him to see a note to Rosalie inside.
I dream of you every night. Sometimes I wake calling out your name. I both love and hate knowing that you are likely doing the same because of me…
I placed his notebook next to him on the table and backed away.
He loved her. Truly, head over heels, destined soulmate sort of love.
I would give her up so she could have him back. In reality, I wasn’t so sure anything would work between us, but I grasped the tiny sliver of hope and decided I needed to just let her go.
For her.
For Evan
For… me.
And that broke my damn heart.
24
MATTEO
Klaus came into my office later that day, his face emotionless.
“Are you OK?” I asked, watching as he went to the bar and poured himself a drink.
“I’m fine,” he muttered. “I am happy he is alive. He is a good man.”
“Do you know why Sylar didn’t want us to tell you?” Alessio asked.
Klaus shrugged. “I have no idea, honestly. Perhaps we will learn about it later. All I know is that I am happy, and he seems to be doing OK. That is good. What is the plan?” He looked over at me.
“He’s been getting tattooed because he hates his body now. His scars. His trauma. He is transforming all of it. At least that’s how it seems. I have hired the best artists to come in and work on him. He seems to enjoy that.”
“Drake is a good artist,” Alessio said.
“Drake cannot know,” I said. “Or shouldn’t know, given he’s had ties to the horsemen before.”
Alessio grunted before he grabbed the alcohol from Klaus and poured himself a drink.
