Page 49 of Alessio

Yeah, yeah.

Alessio didn’t need his nonsense pointed out to him when he was glaring at him right in the face every time he looked in the fucking mirror. He changed the conversation, because all too soon, the two of them would go right back to shit that had them snapping at one another’s throats again.

Wasn’t that the way, lately?

Well …

“I’ve been here a little more than a month,” Alessio said.

Partially passing him in the hallway, Corrado’s walk came to an abrupt halt. He looked over at Alessio and nodded. “Yeah, I figured that out yesterday. Passed quickly, didn’t it?”

He hadn’t realized he had been here with Corrado and Ginevra that long, and he’d barely left other than to take his morning jog, and pick up a coffee from that place he liked down the street.

He took a second.

And then another.

Alessio couldn’t remember a time when he had stayed in one place for longer than a month. Or rather, two weeks. The longest was for a job, and he had been alone on that one. He stayed home for a while, and then he took off again. And sure, he recognized why he did that, but it was still the urge he had.

Well, the urge he didn’t have.

Not here.

With them.

He didn’t want to run like he’d been doing for years—trying to out run his problems, their issues, and just life because it worried him what might happen when it caught up to him. He wanted to be here with them, even if it meant pain and facing his own baggage because God knew he’d been throwing Corrado’s at him for so long, now.

Alessio wanted to be here.

Even if it wouldn’t be easy.

Even if it didn’t end well.

He still wanted to be here.

“Les,” Corrado said.

He lifted his gaze from the top button on Corrado’s dress shirt he’d been using as a focal point to ignore the man’s stare. There, in his lover’s eyes, he found an understanding reflecting at him.

Corrado always had known Alessio better than anyone, and he wasn’t fucking perfect … that was one thing about Corrado that Alessio had never denied.

This man in front of him wasn’t perfect.

He was flawed.

So difficult.

Selfish, sometimes.

But he was still Alessio’s.

And he loved him, regardless.

He always would.

“Are you going to call Andino for her?” Alessio asked.

Corrado smirked a bit. “So, you’re admitting you spied yesterday on our conversation instead of joining?”