Page 4 of Alessio

Yeah, he knew.

“I’m mad.”

“Mmhmm,” Gian murmured.

“I really want to just do something.”

Something horrible and bad.

Something that would make Corrado get it.

“Strike out, act out … hurt.”

Alessio grunted under his breath. “But I can’t … so, I’m here instead.”

Gian let out a sigh, and the wicker creaked before the man came to stand in front of Alessio. He stared up at Corrado’s father, but Gian looked off into the distance where the moon shone high and bright against the black backdrop of the sky.

“You are always welcome here, even if what you’re here for is to hide, Alessio. But if he calls and asks me where you are—”

“You’ll tell him the truth.”

But that was the thing.

Corrado wouldn’t call here.

He’d never think this was a haven for Les because he never told him. There was a lot of that between them. Secrets, and things left unsaid. And usually, when they were saying things, it was the wrong shit.

“Take the time you need,” Gian said, “and go back better, Les.”

“This doesn’t get better from here.”

“But it might. Go back better, and ready.”

Yeah.

Right.

Ready for what?

And how should he do that when he only wanted to hurt Corrado? He could think of a million different ways to do it—ones to make the man feel the same cold ache in his chest that Alessio now had. Pain was always better when shared, right?

Did that make him a monster?

Alessio wasn’t sure he cared.

And right there … that’s why he hadn’t gone back yet.

Not ready.

He wasn’t better.

The phone buzzed on the table between the wicker chairs as Gian turned to walk away. Alessio let him go, and leaned over to check the phone, thinking it would be Cree or Dare trying to get him back on the phone.

A text from Corrado lit up the screen, reading, Happy birthday, Les.

Apparently, he wasn’t the only one up way too late. He might have appreciated the text, and that Corrado remembered.

He still didn’t.