Page 213 of Bossy Hero

He scratches the back of his head. “No fucking clue.” His grin returns. “Maybe you get a pass because you’re always plying me with banana bread.”

“If it makes any difference, he wanted to tell you the entire time. I’m the one who insisted we keep it secret.”

“Why? Did you think I wouldn’t approve?”

I dab my still-stuffy nose with another tissue. “That wasn’t it.” I blow a raspberry, delaying my inevitable confession. “I have this habit of hiding from things that scare me. And by keeping it a secret from everyone, I was able to pretend the threat wasn’t real.”

“What threat does Big Al represent?”

“I’ll takemillion-dollar questionsfor eight hundred,” I joke.

Through a grin, he sharpens his stare, refusing to let me off that easily.

I roll my eyes and answer. “He represents happiness.”

“And how could happiness be scary?”

“Let’s finish out the same category, Alex.Million-dollar questionsfor one thousand.”

I laugh at my dumb joke, and he joins in this time. Reluctantly, but it still counts. I’m taking the wins where I can.

“I’m not letting you get out of answering this.” He bops me on the tip of my nose. “Why are you scared of being happy?”

“Leo, there’s a certain comfort in knowing what to expect, even if it’s pain. Aside from you kids, I’ve only experiencedconditionallove that comes with physical and emotional suffering. Abusive love is thedevil I know. Romantically speaking, I’ve never been loved by someone like Alan before.” I force down a swallow. “Losing him would hurt me far worse than any scar your father gave me. Once I know how happiness feels—the way I would be with Alan—the agony of losing it might just be enough to destroy me.”

As the words leave me, the weight on my shoulders evaporates. Layer by layer until only the slightest pressure remains.

And I know that when I tell Alan what I just admitted out loud for the first time, the last of the burden will be forever lifted.

My son pulls me back against his side, warmth seeping into my bones from his gentle embrace.

If it feels this good to unburden myself of the past, I wonder if Alan needs to do the same. About how he lost someone he loved due to his selfish interests. For weeks, he’s attempted to tell me what he meant that day when he stormed onto his front porch.

He hasn’t made much progress other than saying it was regarding his younger brother. After he gets that out, he’s either conveniently interrupted or simply shuts down.

And I haven’t badgered him for details.

The man waited for me for more than a decade and let me hide our relationship for years after that. The least I can do is give him time to open up to me about something traumatic from his past.

Perhaps if I knew some of the details, I could help him more.

“Leo, can I ask you something about Alan?”

He releases me from his embrace. “Sure.”

“Do you know what happened to his little brother?”

His head kicks back sharply. “Big Al has a brother?”

“Oh, okay. Well, I guess you’ve indirectly answered my question.” I release a hearty sigh. “He had a brother, but he passed away. I don’t know the details, but it seems to bother Alan quite a bit. I was hoping you knew.”

“No. I don’t.”

I shrug. “He’ll tell me when he’s ready. Don’t worry about it.”

We sit quietly for a beat, reflecting on all we’ve shared.

He hugs me again, then rises to his full height, towering over me in the least threatening way imaginable. “I’ll let you get back to your knitting, Ma.”

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