Page 119 of Hollow Heart

The doorbell rings, and Bobby rolls his eyes as he heads to open it.

I set my duffel next to my suitcase by the door.

“Hey, Felix.” Bobby leaves the door open as he heads back into the kitchen, hip checking me. “Your boyfriend’s here,” he taunts me.

I shoot him a glare.

“That reminds me... rules still apply while I’m gone. I’ll be checking in with your Aunt Maria. Daily.”

Bobby scoffs at me, twisting his lips. “Mhmm. Same rules apply for you, too, you know. I’ll be checking in with Lou to make sure you stay out of trouble.”

I laugh, and he smiles.

Only I know it’s not an empty threat.

The kid does not need more ammo for a car.

I’ve already had to dissuade Felix twice fromgiftinghim one for his birthday next month.

It took a lot of convincing, but I was very persuasive.

Felix grabs my suitcase and duffel, and I move to stop him, but he waves me off.

“Wouldn’t want the old man to throw his back out before we leave the parking lot.” He flashes me with a wicked grin.

“I’ll give you something to throw your fucking back out,” I bite.

Maria comes out from the guest room to stand beside Bobby, who is shaking his head.

Felix nods at Bobby. “I’ll take good care of him, don’t worry.”

Bobby’s shoulders fall, and he heads toward us. He hugs Felix, whose eyes widen in surprise.

“Promise,” he demands.

Felix slowly wraps his arms around my kid, and my heart melts.

I know this, a real relationship, let alone with a single dad, is not easy for him, and the future is full of challenges. But I’ve always embraced a challenge, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned about Felix Hart, it is that he is a fighter.

And he’s most certainly worth a hundred Callahans.

“Promise, kid,” he says softly, looking at me.

“I’ll, uh... take these to the car,” he says. He lets Bobby go, taking my luggage, leaving Bobby and me in the living room.

“I’m going to go start unpacking,” Maria says, meeting my gaze with a soft smile of her own.

I know she doesn’t understand this new familial development, but I’m thankful she’s supportive, nonetheless.

Marci would want you to be happy, so if you’re happy, that’s all that matters.

Her words echo in my brain, and I look at my son, with glassy eyes.

My throat is tight as I feel anxiety swelling.

I’m going to miss him so fucking much.

I pull him into a hug and he doesn’t fight me.

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