Chapter 27 #15
My throat burns already. My vision is blurry from the tears. "You sent the police to Gio's house. To his fucking house, you sick monster!" I'm shaking. "They came with a warrant! That means you actually put effort to destroy someone! Him! They searched everything. They almost—"
I can't finish. I'm crying. "You almost ruined everything! You almost ruined him. You—" My voice cracks. Fury and heartbreak choke me at once.
"What kind of person does that to their own son? To someone I love?! What kind of monster are you?"
He steps forward, hands raised. "I was trying to protect you." "Protect me?!" I laugh. "From what? From someone who actually gives a shit about me? From the only person who's ever made me feel safe in my own skin? You call that protection?"
His mouth opens again. I don't let him speak.
"You have no fucking idea what I had to do! What I had to do to protect him, to protect us." My voice is broken. "You made me feel hunted in my own fucking life! I had to clean up your mess. And you know what's worse?" I step closer.
"You knew exactly what you were doing. You knew it would destroy him. You wanted it to. Cause you're evil."
"Rava, it was a mistake you weren't supposed to be there—" "No.
" My eyes lock with his. "You're not allowed to call it that.
A mistake is forgetting a birthday! A mistake is leaving the oven on!
What you did was calculated cruelty! You don't make mistakes like that unless something in you is just rotten! "
He stares at me, mouth pressed tight.
"You made me fucking hate you. You don't deserve to look at me and pretend for one second you still get to be my father."
My voice cracks again. "I'm done with you. And I hope one day you pay for everything you've done." I turn my back. But I catch a glimpse of Lorenzo out of the corner of my eye.
That smart son of a bitch.
He has his phone raised just enough for me to know he's now recording. Perfect. I turn back to my father.
My skin is still buzzing with fury, but now I'm not just pissed. Now I'm calculating.
"You know what's funny?" I say, almost amused. "No matter how many people you threaten, no matter how many favors you cash in, at the end of the day, you're just a scared old man. Scared of anyone who doesn't bow down to your crap."
He steps closer. His jaw tightens. Perfect.
"You don't control me anymore," I say, taking a slow step into his space. "You don't scare me. You couldn't even keep your wife from leaving you. God, how pathetic."
There's a twitch in his temple. His fingers curl.
Please do it.
I lean in. "You're gonna be left alone. And no one will give a damn—"
Crack. His palm hits my face hard and fast.
My head jerks sideways, but I don't touch him back. I don't yell. Just stare. My cheek burns. But I don't move. I don't give him the satisfaction.
He stares at me, chest rising, furious that I didn't flinch. That I'm still standing. Still his son, but not his pawn.
"You little shit," he spits. "You think you're better than me? Hiding behind your faggot boyfriend like a coward?" He grabs me, shoves me hard into the wall. My back hits the plaster with a dull thud. Pain shoots through my ribs, but I bite it down.
I let him.
Because I need him to show the world who he really is. I need him to prove that all this time, it wasn't me. Wasn't Gio. Wasn't anyone else he's tried to ruin.
It's him. "I gave you everything!" he growls, inches from my face. "Your school. Your goddamn future. And this is how you repay me? Throwing it all away for a street rat? A criminal?"
He shakes me. "I did it. I fucking did it, yeah. I called the police to his house." He hisses. "But you keep pushing, keep defending that thug, and I swear to God, I'll bury you both. You being my son won't stop me."
…Perfect. Fucking perfect.
I can feel the phone still recording from across the room. I can feel Lorenzo's presence like a silent shield.
Every word Charles says is another nail in his own coffin. My eyes sting, but I don't look away. I let him see me.
Let him see that I'm hurting, yeah, he's still my father.
He still knows how to hit where it cuts. But I also let him see that I'm not going to stop. Not now. Not when Gio is finally safe.
He reels back like he wants to hit me again, but something changes in his face.
He looks around.
Realizes how quiet the room's gone. Realizes he's not alone. And then he sees Lorenzo. Phone still up, still rolling.
"Smile for the camera, sir!" Lorenzo says coldly. Behind him, my mother. Her hands are shaking as she wipes her tears, and I can tell that they told her.
She knows the plan. She's crying, but she's not stopping it. She lets it happen. Because this is the only way out. I swallow the lump in my throat, but guilt still curls in my chest.
She doesn't deserve this. But it has to happen. This has to fucking end today. Charles starts to move, toward Lorenzo now, but Lorenzo doesn't even flinch. He lifts the phone higher.
"Eh? Touch me and I send it. Trust me, you don't want that. Prison's not a fun place these days!" His tone is light, but his eyes are dead serious.
Charles freezes for a moment, calculating.
"Look," Lorenzo starts again, cocky, "you so much as breathe in the direction of my cousin ever again, or lay one finger on this family," He waves the phone lazily.
"I swear to God, I'll upload this footage to every cloud in existence.
I'll fax it to the pope. Don't test me!"
Charles clenches his fists, but says nothing.
"You think you're the only one with money and connections? Please." Lorenzo scoffs.
"Don't be fooled just because I play the clown! I am funny, but I'm not playing."
For the first time ever, Charles looks cornered. "You're all fucking sick. Every single one of you!" he yells, red creeping into his face. "This? This is what you've become? A house full of degenerates and traitors, defending him? That boy?"
He points at me like I'm dirt. Less than. Lorenzo raises an eyebrow and says nothing. Charles turns to my mother now. "And you. You just stand there? Crying like some helpless little thing while they ambush me in my own home? You've always been weak. Always—"
"Enough!" She steps forward, her hands shaking.
God, I've never seen her like this. "Don't you dare blame me for this!
You did this! You created this mess, Charles!
I've been cleaning up after you for years.
Covering, explaining, lying. I did it for the children.
I did it because I thought maybe, maybe, you'd change.
But you didn't. You got worse. You are a monster. And I'm done protecting you."
He stares at her, stunned. And for the first time, speechless. Her chest is rising and falling, her face streaked with tears, but she doesn't look away. "Don't ever come back here," she whispers. "You don't belong in this family anymore. You made that clear."
Charles clenches his jaw. His pride bleeding out in front of everyone. He looks at me again. "I feel so sorry for your future students," he says, eyes cold. "God help them."
I clench my jaw. But I don't speak. I don't need to. His words don't carry weight anymore. He turns to my mother. "Send me the divorce papers," he mutters. "I'm done. I'm leaving this sickness behind. Good luck keeping the company alive without me."
Mom flinches, but she doesn't back down. Her hand stays on my shoulder. She's grounded. For the first time in a long time.
"Don't worry, boss man," Lorenzo says casually. "She's got us. We know business too. Bye bye now!" Charles pauses. But there's nothing left for him here. Not control, not respect, not family. He walks out. Slams the door.
And suddenly there's air in the room again.
37) Canada Plan
Gio
As soon as the door clicks and Rava’s shadow is gone, I collapse. Everything I’ve kept shoved down comes pouring out. I sit on the floor, pull my knees up, fists tangled in my hair, my face already wet and burning.
Why didn’t I burn the box?
Why the fuck didn’t I burn that box?
I knew. I knew it was a risk. I knew it was a fucking liability. And I still kept it. Like a fucking idiot, thinking I’m untouchable. And look what happened.
Rava. Fucking Rava. The one good thing I’ve ever had in my life. The one thing I didn’t want to destroy.
The softest, kindest, brightest soul. The one who believes in me. Who trusts me. Sleeps in my bed. Laughs at my dumb jokes.
And what did I do?
I nearly got him dragged away by the fucking police. I made him hide like a criminal. He’s bleeding, shaking, hyperventilating, and I wasn’t even there. I can’t even protect him when it matters. What the fuck kind of man does that make me?
Why didn’t I get rid of it? Why didn’t I listen to myself? Why did I bring him into my mess, into my rotting past? Because I’m a fucking idiot. Because I got greedy. Because I got selfish. I wanted to keep him. I thought maybe I can have something normal.
Something good. And now look. He could’ve been taken.
Could’ve had a record. A future ruined. A life shattered. And all for what? For me?
God, I hate myself for this. He risked everything for a box I was too much of a coward to destroy. I should’ve handled it. But instead he did.
Because I was too busy smiling at cops and pretending I’m in control while the person I love most in this fucking world was falling apart alone. He had a panic attack in my arms and the only thing I could think is, please don’t leave me.
Like I have any fucking right to ask that from him.
He deserves peace.
He deserves to feel safe when he wakes up. To laugh, to chase dreams, to hold hands with someone without looking over his shoulder. And instead, he’s hiding on my fucking balcony behind rolled-up rugs, clutching a box that could ruin my life. And his.
Because I let him in. And now he’s hurt. And scared.
And still too fucking kind to blame me for it. Lulu jumps into my lap without a sound, like she knows I need her. I hold her close, press my face into her soft fur. "There you are," I whisper.
"My little sunshine." She gives a tiny sneeze, then curls into me.
"You didn’t ask for any of this, huh? Just wanted cuddles and snacks and naps in the sun.
" I kiss her head gently. "I’m so sorry you had to hear yelling. You didn’t deserve that, baby.
" She looks up at me. "I promise I’ll make things quiet again. For you. And for him."
She licks my hand and I smile through the sting in my eyes. "Yeah. I love you too, fuzzball."
Knock. I freeze. Rava.
I shoot up, wipe my face, slap my cheeks, force myself to breathe. I have to look okay. Have to look strong. He can’t see this. Not after what he went through.
I open the door. Smile. He’s smiling too, holding a huge bag in one hand. That smile flickers the second his eyes meet mine.
"You okay?" he asks immediately, searching my face.
I nod. "Now, yeah." I glance at the bag. "What is all that?" He smiles again,, lifting the bag a little. "You’ll see. I have a really good idea. But first, we clean the house."
We start picking things up in silence, tossing broken pieces into a trash bag, folding crumpled clothes, lifting books from the floor.
"Gio?"
"Rava?"
He smiles. "I’m glad I was the reason you’re safe. I’m really happy right now."
Happy. This man just had a panic attack in my arms, bled while being hidden, went through God knows what next door, and now he’s here picking up my broken stuff telling me he’s happy.
God, I swear, I protect this man with my life.
I don’t care what it costs. Even if I have to burn every last piece of myself, I will keep him safe. He doesn’t even know what kind of miracle he is. And I will never, ever let the world ruin that again.
Rava suddenly freezes, then he jumps up.
I spin around. "What? What happened?" He grabs his wrist tight. "Gio. The bracelet. The one Emi gave us—mine’s gone. I’m not wearing it, shit—I’m not wearing it."
He is already tearing through the couch cushions. I bolt to the balcony. And there, on the cold stone floor near the wall, I see beads. Everywhere. Tiny letters staring up at me. The tiny heart. A piece of blue cord. "Oh fuck…" I whisper. I drop to my knees, gently pushing the rugs aside.
Rava appears behind me, and the second he sees them, he deflates. He just stands there, hollowed out. I get up fast and cup his face. "Hey. Look at me. They’re all here," I say gently. "All the pieces. I will fix it, Rava. I swear. It’ll be just like before. Like it never broke."
He looks like he might cry. "It didn’t break," I say softly. "It just…came undone for a second. That’s all. It happens. I’ve got it. I will put it back together."
He leans into me, resting against my shoulder. "Promise?" "Promise."
We sit on the floor in front of the couch, boxes pushed aside, everything half-done but finally quiet. Rava turns his head and looks at me. I stare back.
His eyes are still red around the edges. "Gio?"
"Hm?"
"I know today’s been hard. For you. For my family too. I’ll explain later. I was just thinking…maybe you could stay over at our house tonight? In my room. I just think it might help. Being there. Together."
I stare at him. I don’t deserve this man. He reaches for my hand. "Please?"
I nod immediately. "Of course," I whisper. "Whatever you want. I’ll be there." He exhales, smiling, pulls me into a hug, then stands and brushes off his hands with a little grin. "Okay. Come on. We’re about to do something amazing."
Now we’re out.
I put on his helmet. He looks at me with those goddamn eyes. I smile because what else can I do? We climb onto the bike.
As I start driving, Rava leans closer, resting his chin on my shoulder. "Can we go to that cave spot?" he says loud over the wind. "The one by the beach. Where you comforted me when my ex tried to cheat on me with you."
I laugh. "Okay, okay, don’t go into details. I remember."
We ride. The sky is stupidly pink, like some painter went way too hard on the romance filter. The air slaps our skin. By the time we reach the beach, everything is quiet. Just a few birds in the distance. We slide off the bike.
He grabs the bag. I grab him. We duck into the little opening facing the sea.
It’s like a tiny hidden pocket of the world.
We sit cross-legged on the towel. The ocean hums in the distance.
The sky turns pinky purple. Rava pulls out a plastic container and pops the lid.
The smell hits me. "Wait. Is that our breakfast? "
"Yeah. You didn’t touch yours. I packed it up while you were in the shower."
I gape at him. "You packed it? In a container? Like a picnic mom?" He looks at me like he’s about to end me. "You want to eat or not, Fontana?" I throw my hands up, grinning. "I love you, I love you, no notes."
He takes a few bites, groaning. "We need something stupid good after this though. Pizza. Gelato. We deserve it."
Then he reaches into the bag and carefully pulls out the box. My smile drops. He places it gently on the towel between us and starts pulling out paintbrushes, scissors, tape, acrylics, colored paper.
I stare. "Did you bring the wrong bag?"
He gives me an offended look. "Start cutting paper, punk." And we begin. We start with the papers. Rava hands me one and keeps one for himself. I glance down.
Well…shit. Purchase receipts for weapons I never touched. My name scrawled in ink on transactions that aren’t mine. Drug deals. Shady agreements. So much filth printed in neat little rows.
It makes my skin crawl. I really was disgusting. I stare at the page, then at Rava. "You’re not gonna ask me what any of this is?"
He shakes his head. "Nope."
Then he hands me a big paintbrush. "Dip it in a color. Any one you want. Just cover it. Trust me." I swallow hard and look at the paints. My fingers reach for the purple. The deepest one. Rava picks red.
We start brushing. Paint covers signatures, words, numbers, dates. All of it disappears under the strokes. Gone. When it dries, Rava grabs the scissors and starts cutting the papers into tiny squares. Confetti. He dumps it all into the now-empty box.
I stare at him. "You’re not real. You’re an alien." He smirks. "First piece done." I raise an eyebrow. "Piece?" He nods toward the box. "That paper was supposed to put you in handcuffs. Now it’s just confetti." I laugh loudly. God, I fucking love this guy.
The USB. Rava hands me his laptop gently. "Here. Delete whatever’s in it yourself. Then give it back to me."
I hesitate. "You’re…not even gonna ask what’s on it?"
He shakes his head. "No."
Fucking hell. That does something weird to me because I know what’s on it. And it’s not pretty. Footage of people breaking. Footage of people being broken. Files that are leverage. Insurance. Ugly places. I don’t even open anything. I plug the USB in, drag everything to the trash, and hit delete.
That’s it. Gone. I let out a breath and hand the laptop back to him. He doesn’t waste a second. Starts typing immediately, fingers moving fast over the keys. He pushes his glasses up his nose without even realizing they slipped. Determined little thing.
I gently wipe the sweat off his forehead. He pauses, looks up at me, and blushes. Of course. His usual.
"So helpful," he murmurs.
"Since day one." I smirk. "Not my fault you’re constantly melting, angel." He smiles wider and hands the USB back to me.
"It has all the pictures and videos we took at that party with Lorenzo and Noah."
I look at him. He grins.
"The dangerous files became dangerously sexy content. See? Our bathroom selfie’s in there. And the one where our tongues are touching. Ten out of ten experience. I’d absolutely do it again."
I snort. "Oh, I know you would."
So would I.
Now he picks up the old fake ID.
The one I had when I was seventeen. Disaster photo. Hair too long. Jawline still figuring itself out. Name fake as hell. He squints at it.
"Would you mind if I cut this up a bit?"
I raise an eyebrow. "Yes, I’d mind. I was planning on using it next week."
"For what? Getting arrested on purpose? Give me the damn ID."
He’s already slicing off the picture.
The rest of the ID goes straight into the trash. But the photo, he glues it onto a piece of blue paper the size of an actual ID. "What are you doing?"
"Making it better," he mumbles, tongue peeking out while he concentrates.
Then he starts writing.
NAME:
-Gio "Too Hot To Be Arrested" Fontana
HOBBIES:
-Threatening people who flirt with his man
-Riding dangerously (both ways)
-Eating every single one of my mom’s pies
-Pretending he’s heartless when he’s actually full of love and gay panic
WARNING LABEL:
-Contains high levels of testosterone, tattoos, and repressed emotions
AFFILIATED WITH:
-One very proud boyfriend
-Several traumatized dates and one traumatized Ducati.
EMERGENCY PROTOCOL:
-If found unconscious, whisper: "He was talking to someone else."
-He’ll rise. Fast.
VALID UNTIL:
-He stops being hot. So…never.
By the time he finishes, I’m trying not to laugh and absolutely failing. "Are you done exposing me?"
"Just documenting facts," he says with a straight face and tucks the new ID into the box. The illegal crap is gone. The mess. The evidence.
What’s left are things made by the only person who ever made me want to be better. I lean over and kiss his cheek. "Shut up," I mutter.
He grins. "Didn’t say anything." He hands me the box. "All done. Not a single illegal item left. Completely innocent. You can still throw it away if you want. But even if you don’t, it’s just a box now. Looks like you stole it from a daycare."
I let out a small laugh. God, he really did it. "Alright," I say after a second. "What happened at your house earlier? Everything okay?"
Rava pauses.
"Well…not exactly. Dad hit me, but it was part of the plan. Lorenzo was filming. Got the whole thing. And everything he said. Mom divorced him. He’s gone."
I drop back onto the sand and rub my hands over my face. Then I sit up and grab him gently but firmly by the shoulders.
"Please. I’m begging you. Let me just give this man the tiniest, most discreet little punch. Just one. I swear I think I’ll explode if I don’t."
Rava raises an eyebrow. "Don’t stoop to his level. You’ve been doing so well, Gio."
"Okay, yeah. But how would you feel if my dad laid hands on me like that? Treated me like trash? And you just had to sit there doing nothing?"
He looks at me and it hits him.
That image. I regret it instantly.
"Wait—shit. No. Don’t think about that. I’m sorry. I’m just pissed. Because if it was anyone else, I would rip them apart. But your family? That’s unfair. I can’t touch them. He doesn’t even realize how lucky he is."
Rava sighs. "Let’s not talk about him anymore. I don’t want to spend our last moments talking about him."
I nod.
No point wasting breath. All I want, all I freaking want, is for my Canada plan to work.
Just this one thing. Let it work.
Please.