Page 168 of Safe Word

I stood frozen, the sterile air folding in on itself, too thin, too sharp to breathe. My heart pounded in my ears, each beat echoing the truth I hadn’t been ready to confront.

Salvatore. Not Ezio.

For the first time since stepping into this godforsaken place, I didn’t have to hold my breath any more.

THIRTY-ONE

As the nurse left us alone in the hallway, I couldn’t take my eyes off Cain. He stood like a statue weathered by years of downpour: his shoulders broad but slumped, his free hand curled into a fist until his knuckles threatened to crack skin. His hand squeezed mine once in a while, as if to make sure that he was still here.

The revelation of Ezio’s lies and Salvatore’s possible paternity had shaken him to his core, and I could see the surge of emotions cracking through his composed shell.

He’d always exuded control, always made himself seem untouchable. But now the cracks were visible, the mask slipping.

I wanted to help him, though I didn’t know if it was the carer in me, the friend – or something more. And I knew what crossing that line could mean, too.

But standing here, seeing him like this, I felt myself inching closer to it, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

My feelings had shifted from professional to personal in a blink. And we were already treading dangerous ground as it was.

His fingers, as they held me, were hot and tense, but he never pulled away. Instead, his grip tightened and loosened slightly, as though he needed the connection as much as I needed to offer it.

When he turned to me, his amber eyes locked onto mine, and for me, the chaos in the world faded. Something unspoken simmered between us, deeper than desire. It left my chest aching.

‘Whatever you want to do, I’m here,’ I assured him. There was a tick in his jaw, however brief – but I saw it. I felt the energy coming off him, controlled, but only just. He wanted me to hold him – but maybe not like this. Not now.

We stayed in silence for a short while, unspoken emotions thickening in the narrow space of the corridor. Every breath felt heavy, every minute stretched. This was his moment to process, let the turmoil within him settle.

I stayed close, a quiet presence at his side, silently reminding him that he wasn’t alone in this.

We didn’t return to Ezio.

Warm air wrapped around us as we walked to the car, the world muted and dull. The gravel crunched beneath our feet, the sound grounding me in the present even as the past clung to Cain like a shadow.

He didn’t say anything for a long while, and I didn’t expect him to. His shoulders hunched, memories weighing down each step. But there was something in the way he kept the pace… as though he couldn’t part with me.

I felt deeply honoured – almost awed – that Cain had let me see this side of him. This unfiltered pain he allowed me to see was a part of him he kept from everyone else; a wound buried beneath layers of strength and deflection. But he had let me in. Trusted me. And that warmth pushed everything else back.

Strange… how quickly this connection had deepened.

I’d never had that happen before – not even with friends. I was unsure how to navigate it.

Palming my phone, I called my uncle quickly and apologised for not calling sooner. I risked asking for Salvatore’s address, too. There was no point going back to the nurses, the policies dictated discretion when it came to personal information.

Glancing at Cain, a small, uncontainable joy bloomed in my chest when he nodded his approval at me.

We reached the car.

Cain’s pace slowed, his steps veering towards the front of his Audi instead of the driver’s door. He stopped, leaning against the hood, his broad shoulders catching the golden light of day, accentuating the strength of his frame. His navy shirt stretched taut over his muscular chest, every line and contour of his physique shaped by discipline. His forearms bunched beneath the long sleeves as his hands rested on the car, fingers twitching against the warm metal.

He stood there, silent, gaze distant. Thick, black brows were drawn low in thought. His teeth worried at his bottom lip as if wrestling with things too heavy to voice.

I hadn’t even noticed I’d stopped walking, too.

When he saw I hadn’t come closer, his attention shifted to me, and whatever was in his eyes melted into something quieter.

For a beat, maybe two, we stood like that, locked in a silent exchange that acknowledged this new, fragile bond we’d found – something neither of us dared to name aloud, but both understood.

‘It’s a good thing, Cain,’ I said softly, my voice threading through the stillness. ‘It’s good to know he isn’t your father.’