“I don’t need any help,” I bite out, but the slight tremble in my voice betrays me.
He steps back and lifts the hem of his shirt up to his chest, revealing his stomach. It’s a muscular stomach, the V-lines leading to his crotch are well defined, and tattoos spread across the entirety of his skin, leaving no spot untouched.
All I see is a beautiful body covered in tattoos, so I whisper, “You’re beautiful.”
“Look closer,” he simply directs.
I lean in closer, and beneath the tattoos, there are a multitude of scars. Xander takes my wrist, guiding my fingers to his stomach, allowing me to trace the scars. He exhales, and goose bumps trail the path of my touch.
“I recognize it because I’ve been there too,” he says softly. “I knew it the moment I first saw you. Survivors recognize each other instinctively. The only difference is this,” he continues, still holding my wrist, now pressing not just my fingers but my whole palm against his warm stomach. “It was a long time ago. I’m out now, safe and okay, as okay as I can be.” I lift my gaze from his stomach to his eyes. “But you, you’re still in the thick of it. And sometimes, when we’re drowning, the only thing that can save us from going under is a helping hand from the outside.”
He releases my hand, and I let it drop to my side. I can’t bear his probing gaze any longer, so I look down at my feet again.
Should I confide in him?
It seems impossible. His boyfriend is a cop. Fuck,myboyfriend is a cop. He would tell Clay and Joshua, and they would intervene, possibly even getting Roberto locked up.And then what?
Until I finish college, there’s no way I could get custody of Chiara. I could save up the money and try again once I’ve graduated and started my job at the NYPD, but there’s no guarantee. I can’t risk losing her just because I have to withstand my life for a little while longer.
So, I maneuver past him and the shelf, heading toward my backpack. “Thank you,” I say, slipping on my jacket and making my way to the door.
As I walk away, the weight of his gaze is heavy on my back. I swing my backpack over my shoulder and reach for the doorknob. A part of me wants to turn back, to unload the burden that’s been crushing me, but the risk is too high. Chiara is all that matters, and I can’t afford to jeopardize her safety.
Once outside, the chill of the evening breeze sweeps over me. I pull the hood of my hoodie up, the echo of Xander’s words ringing in my ears, the offer of help, the shared experience, the promise of safety.
It’s tempting,ohso tempting.
But I can’t, I remind myself. I have to endure to push through.
For Chiara.
Taking a deep breath, I make my way to the bar. Tomorrow is another day, another fight. But for now, I just need to keep moving.
Keep surviving.
Just like I always have.
FORTY-SIX
The bar is unusuallyslow for a Saturday night, and here I am, cleaning up the tables shortly after midnight.
Cindy comes up beside me and starts pestering me. “So, spill the beans about the cop you kissed last week! I’ve been waiting for you to tell me, but I’m getting impatient.” I sigh, showing no interest in sharing. “Come on, Carolina, don’t be so cold. I always talk to you about Donny. Is it time? Did you finally get yourself a boyfriend?”
I raise an eyebrow and ask, “How do you even know we kissed?”
She just shrugs. “Matteo mentioned something like that.”
“Something like that?” I stop cleaning and look at her.
“He said the cop tried to force himself on you, but we both know you would’ve punched him in the privates if he had.” I can’t help but chuckle. It’s getting harder and harder to keep up my bored mask every day when I am so fucking happy. Cindy teases further. “So, is he your boyfriend?”
I bite my lip, feeling like bragging a little. “Yes, he is.”
“Oh my God, Carolina,” Cindy exclaims, grabbing my arms and hopping with excitement. “I’m so happy for you! He’s such a hottie, like one of those K-pop singers. I bet he’s amazing in bed.Did you lose your V-card to him? You won’t find anyone better if you haven’t.”
I’m taken aback by her seemingly genuine happiness for me. Our friendship is more of a like-hate thing, mostly because I can’t stand her most of the time, but I appreciate not having to be alone here in this dump of a place.
“Ladies, looks like it’s an early night tonight,” Donny announces, opening the kitchen door and winking at Cindy, who giggles.
