Page 89 of Broken Deal

“About damn time you asked, Blue.” He chuckles softly, locking his beautiful eyes on mine, allowing me to get lost in them.

Every second I keep looking at him, so many emotions wash through me at an overwhelming pace. When I met Lorenzo, this was the last place I thought we were going to end up. Over these past few weeks, he has become my sounding board. The thought is totally crazy. Who knew he was going to be the one there for me? Who knew he was going to be the only person I could feel comfortable enough to be myself?

I have my friends, yeah—who I haven’t seen in like forever. I’m sure I will get in some serious trouble when I go back to Chicago. The girls have been there for me, but… It’s not the same. Lorenzo fills a void I never knew I had.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Well, I do owe you a few questions. Go ahead,” I reply softly.

“What’s the deal with your sister?”

I sit, creating some space between us, and frown. “Where’s this coming from?”

“There’s a story there, and I want to know. I’m a good listener,” he jokes with a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips, his stupid and cute dimple making an appearance.

“That stupid dimple of yours always makes an appearance when I least want to see it,” I point out, glaring at him.

His smile grows, the dimple deepening. “Are you obsessed with my dimple, Blue?”

“Yes,” I answer honestly.

“Wow. You must not want to talk about your sister if you just admitted something like that.”

I lay my head against the wall and groan. “Busted,” I murmur.

He bursts out laughing, and I can’t help but join in, the sound contagious.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about my family.”

His eyes soften. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Strangely, I want him to know the rawest, darkest parts of me. It should scare me, but somehow, I feel a strange calm.

I swallow, fighting the tightness in my throat. “My mother…she’s a survivor of domestic violence. My father was an alcoholic. He took his anger out on her, and on us.”

Lorenzo’s jaw tightens, his expression pained as he squeezes my hand, his fingers threading with mine, offering a silent anchor. “Fuck, Blue,” he whispers.

“Mom protected us as much as she could, so we didn’t get it as bad as she did,” I say softly.

He shakes his head, interrupting me. “Don’t do that.”

I blink, taken aback. “Do what?”

“Diminish your problems. You’re as much a survivor as she is,” he says, his voice so gentle it nearly undoes me. “You deserve to feel, too.”

I press my lips together. “I tried to be strong for Mom and Amelia,” I continue. “I took on a lot to protect my little sister. I was the oldest. It felt like it was my job to shield her.”

His thumb brushes over my hand in soft, steady circles, grounding me. The strength in his grip, his unwavering attention, gives me the courage to go on.

“When my father died, it was like a weight lifted, knowing he couldn’t hurt us anymore. But then came the aftermath. Mom was shattered, and I never understood why she was grieving so deeply. He was a man who’d caused us so much pain… But who was I to question her feelings? So I took over. I became Amelia’s rock while Mom coped with her own battles.”

A tear slips out, and before I can brush it away, Lorenzodoes it for me—like he always does. He always knows exactly what I need and when I need it.

“Mom eventually started to get better, though the anxiety and panic attacks were still frequent. But by that point, it was too late. Amelia grew rebellious and started acting out.” I shake my head. “Most of the time, I feel like I failed her.”

“You did everything you could under impossible circumstances,” Lorenzo murmurs, his voice a mix of firmness and compassion. “You didnotfail her.”

I give him a small, grateful smile. The way he cares for me, without hesitation or judgment—it’s overwhelming in the best way.

---