Page 21 of Knot Made to Break: Part Two

“I’m pretty sure this isn’t bed rest.” I gestured to the couch.

A dimple appeared in his cheek as he grinned. “Don’t rat me out to D. He’s already on my ass about moving around too much.”

“Where is he?”

“D and Gio had a meeting with Papa E, but Marco is floating around here somewhere.”

I snorted. “Papa E?”

“It’s what I call Emilio. I gave each of our dad’s a nickname when I was a kid and have used ‘em ever since.”

I could just picture a mischievous little Tommy as a child, getting into trouble, then charming his way right back out of it. “Well, your secret’s safe with me.” I shifted, careful not to jostle him. His wound was healing well, but I knew it still pained him if he moved the wrong way or it was bumped by accident.

“Knew I could count on you.” His hand traced up and down my spine, and he placed gentle kisses into my hair every once in a while. The moment was comfortable and lazy and peaceful.

On the floor nearby, Beretta lay sprawled on his side, his chest rising and falling in deep, contented sleep. One paw twitched occasionally, like he was chasing something in his dreams. The Doberman had taken to following me around the penthouse when the brothers were occupied, as if he’d appointed himself my personal bodyguard. Right now, though, he was off duty.

Tommy’s fingers found their way into my hair, gently working through the strands. There was a casual intimacy to it. These little touches made the Omega part of me so happy. So content.

“Want me to read to you?” I offered, reaching for his book.

“Mm, I’d like that.” His lips brushed against my temple. “I love listening to your voice.”

I flushed, pleased by the praise. Flipping to where his bookmark was placed, I started reading aloud. The story was about a detective investigating a series of art thefts. I lost myself in the rhythm of the words, in the simple pleasure of being tucked against my Alpha’s warm body as his fingers continued their gentle exploration.

Time slipped away from us as we lost ourselves in a different world. I was halfway through our fifth chapter when the sound of a key in the lock of the front door signaled someone’s arrival. Beretta’s head lifted, ears perked, but he relaxed immediately, recognizing the familiar sounds of the others.

Dimitri entered first, with Gio and Marco following closely behind. All three wore expressions that made my stomach knot. Something was up.

Dimitri beelined for where I was tucked against Tommy on the couch, leaning down to kiss my forehead before taking a seat on the edge of the cushion. There was barely enough room for him, but he made it work so he could stay close.

D’s hand landed on my leg, giving me more of that contact I craved. “I don’t want to interrupt, but the guys and I were talking, and we wanted to have a family meeting.”

My body tensed instinctively, my fingers tightening around the edges of the book. The last time we’d had a “family meeting,” it had been to discuss their plans on how to take out the Valentinos. My anxiety spiked. Had something happened? Was Rocco back, ready to finish the fight?

Tommy’s hand moved to my shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. I sat up, then helped him do the same, so we were more prepared for the conversation.

“What’s going on?” he asked, that playful tone replaced with something more serious.

Dimitri exchanged a glance with Marco and Gio as they joined us in the living room, each taking a seat. Then his gaze found mine again, and there was a softness that set me at ease. Whatever it was couldn’t be that bad, could it?

“We’ve been talking,” D said, gesturing to include his brothers. “And we think it might be good for us to consider moving to a new place. Somewhere without... painful memories.”

Marco’s gaze flicked briefly to the spot I’d been avoiding earlier, and I knew exactly what they meant. Somewhere I wouldn’t have to tip-toe around the ghost of Vincent. Somewhere we could all start fresh.

Nevertheless, I blinked, surprised at the suggestion. Part of me—the part that was still haunted by the shadows, still dealing with PTSD in the aftermath—wanted to jump at the chance. But another part, a part that was stronger than I expected, rebelled at the idea.

“No.” The firmness in my reply caught even me off guard. “This is our home. I won’t let them take that from us, too.”

The brothers exchanged glances, clearly not expecting such a vehement refusal. I set the book aside and stood, moving toward the hallway, toward that spot I’d been avoiding. I didn’t step on it—I wasn’t ready for that—but I hovered at its edge.

“I’m tired of losing what’s important to me. This place is where we started our lives together. Where you saved me. Where I fell in love with you.” I turned, facing all of them. “I appreciate the thought, but I don’t want to leave. It feels too much like running. Too much like a surrender. They don’t get to take this from me.”

“You’re right, Angel,” Marco relented. “We don’t have to leave.”

Gio ran a hand down his face. “I hear you, Dolcezza, and I understand where you’re coming from. But I can’t stand to see you walking on eggshells around here either. Are you sure you don’t want to find a new place? We could make it just as special.”

He was right, of course. The penthouse was just four walls. What made it a home was them—us; together. And yet, I didn’t want to leave. It felt too much like failure. Like losing the power I’d worked so hard to gain.

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