Chapter 6 Gio
GIO
Is it wrong that I now know which train Stephanie takes home from work every day?
Maybe, but that hasn’t stopped me from waiting for her at the station so I can watch her ride it back to her townhouse.
I haven’t been able to slip away early enough in the morning to follow her to work just yet—which is probably a good thing, because my workdays have already gotten significantly shorter since I developed a penchant for walking in the early evening—a habit that has my brothers more than a little bit irritated because of my unexplained absences when I’m supposed to be leading our cause against the Tanakas.
But I can’t help myself.
I tried to stay away, to give Stephanie the distance she clearly desires.
And still, I find myself tracing her footsteps home every day, watching her like a lovesick puppy.
She looks ethereal today in a white eyelet lace dress with a pastel rainbow belt and matching wedge heels.
For whatever reason, she gets off one stop later than usual today—giving me just a bit longer to watch her from a distance.
Rather than heading to her town house, she exits the station nearly half a mile away from it and walks several more blocks before reaching a good-sized single family home with a two-car garage and a covered patio, complete with a porch swing.
Interest piqued, I keep my distance, observing from behind a row of towering ash trees on the far side of the street as she rings the doorbell and waits.
Seconds later, the front door swings open, and Stephanie unleashes one of her earth-shattering smiles as she greets the woman standing on the threshold.
Seconds later, Jackson steps through the door—a Spider-Man backpack slung over his shoulder.
Only then does it hit me that it’s Saturday.
He must have spent the night at a friend’s house, judging by the way Stephanie stoops to wrap her arms around him as soon as they say their goodbyes and the front door closes.
That would explain why he wasn’t home yet when she got back yesterday.
“Ooh, I’ve missed you!” she says, giving him a bear hug and wiggling back and forth until Jackson giggles.
“Mom, the guys might see,” he groans, but judging by his smile, I don’t think he cares too much if she embarrasses him. “I missed you too,” he adds, his voice quieter, making me strain to hear him as she releases him.
And when she straightens, offering him her hand, he takes it.
She swings their hands between them as they tromp down the porch steps together and start their walk home.
There’s something entirely wholesome about the picture—a loving mom coming to pick up her son from a friend’s house after a sleepover.
God, the deep, hollow ache in my chest feels as though it might just swallow me whole, and I can’t help but trail behind them, riveted to the scene as Jackson rehashes all the fun things he and his friends did last night.
Stephanie delivers all the right responses, loudly objecting when Jackson informs her they stayed up until well past midnight playing video games.
That earns her a giggle from the little boy.
But it’s her laughter that rings in my ears, vibrating through my body like a sonic blast.
It’s so open and warm and genuine—just like I remember.
And it’s a rare opportunity for me to actually hear her.
Most of the time, I can only bear silent witness as she keeps to herself on the train.
But when she’s with her son, she’s as vivacious as the girl I met a decade ago.
They walk the mile home at an easy, unhurried pace, Stephanie carrying a bag of groceries on her shoulder while Jackson totes his backpack full of sleepover supplies.
I watch as he unlatches the gate to their yard, then races ahead to open the front door for her.
Stephanie’s cheeks are rosy from the walk and her amusement as she turns to latch the gate behind them, and I quickly step back into the shadows of her neighbor’s porch so she won’t see me watching her.
Still, her eyes flick up, scanning the street as her smile fades.
She’s much more careful than the girl I remember—no doubt anxious that her past might someday catch up to her.
A knot of guilt tightens in my belly to know that I’m that past—and I have found her.
If I were a good man, a man worthy of her affection, I would leave her be.
It’s clearly what she wants from me.
But I can’t do that.
I can’t stay away.
Instead, I’ve limited myself to just an hour with her each day—near her, I mean.
I follow her home, just to make sure she gets there safe.
Or at least, that’s what I’ve been telling myself.
Though it’s pretty apparent she doesn’t need me.
She seems to have done just fine without me for the past eight years.
Combing my fingers through my hair, I feel that familiar tug of guilt that tells me I shouldn’t be spying on her like this.
Stalking her.
Invading the space she’s so carefully created for herself. But it feels like after eight years without oxygen, I can finally breathe again—at least for the hour a day that I see her.
She and Jackson go through their familiar dance, Jackson running upstairs while Stephanie heads to the kitchen to start dinner.
I take up sentinel by the side window, enjoying the view as she opens the fridge door and bends to find something near the back.
God, she always did have the perfect ass.
My cock twitches at the thought, and I turn away to pull myself back together—because that’s not what this is about.
Yes, my body comes alive at the thought of Stephanie.
Just remembering the way she felt in my arms makes me ache with need.
But that was only the beginning of what I loved so much about her.
And I won’t devalue our history by turning that into the reason I’m following her home.
“Hey, Gio.”
Jackson’s voice startles me as it comes from my right today.
He’s in the front yard—not his typical spot, and now he’s caught me loitering.
“Hey, kiddo,” I say, pushing off the house and stepping out from the narrow walkway between the townhomes to come stand outside the fence and face him.
“What are you doing hanging out?” he asks, glancing toward the spot where I was hiding in the long shadows.
“Oh, I missed you yesterday and didn’t want to go two days in a row without catching up,” I say, my lips quirking into a grin.
It’s not a lie.
I’ve come to enjoy my brief chats with Jackson in the days that I’ve spent stalking Stephanie.
He might just be the coolest kid I’ve ever met, and while I don’t spend much time around children, I have a feeling that sentiment would stand regardless of how many kids I knew.
Then again, he’s Stephanie’s boy, and regardless of who the father is, that makes him something special to me.
“Oh yeah, I spent the night at my friend Tanner’s house. Sorry, I didn’t think to tell you.”
He looks genuinely concerned about disappointing me, and that makes me like the kid all the more.
“Hey, no worries. It’s not like we set a date and time or anything, right? You’re just a cool kid. I don’t have too many friends in the neighborhood, and I like talking to you.”
Jackson’s wide grin splits his face, his straight white teeth flashing for me. “I like talking to you too,” he says. Then his expression turns shy, and he glances down to pick at the white paint on the fence. “I’m not very good at making friends either, so I like to think you’re my friend too.”
My heart squeezes, and if I didn’t already adore the kid, I think I do ten times more now.
He’s just so dang genuine.
A trait I know he gets from his mom. “Absolutely, I am,” I assure him. “Anything you need, I’m here for you. That’s what friends are for.”
Jackson flashes me another wide grin, his green eyes so like his mother’s, they momentarily steal the air from my lungs.
“Jay, how are those tomatoes coming?” Stephanie calls from the shadows of the front door.
My heart freezes in my chest, my body tensing as my eyes snap up in her direction.
Like a deer caught in the headlights, I don’t know which way to turn.
She’s never come outside for one of our chats before, and suddenly, I feel like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
I thought I was being so sneaky, but I let down my guard—and now she’s going to find out I’m here.
“Jackson!” she says, her voice suddenly harsh as she comes flying down the front porch steps with a ferocity I’ve never seen from her before.
“What did I tell you about talking to strangers?” she demands, reaching him in a matter of seconds and wrapping her arm protectively across his chest as she pulls him several steps away from the fence.
“But, Mom—” he objects as he turns to face her.
“No ‘buts’. You get inside that house right now and stay there,” she commands, her tone so authoritative, I’m tempted to obey—even if the order wasn’t meant for me. “We’ll talk about your listening skills later.”
Jackson’s shoulders slump, and he gives me a half-hearted wave as he mumbles a quick goodbye before scampering inside.
“And you,” she says, rounding on me as soon as the front door closes behind him.
I’ve never been scared of anyone in my life, but the fire in her eyes actually makes me take a step back as I raise my hands in self-defense to show I meant no harm.
“Who do you think you are, approaching my child like that? What do you want with him?” Stephanie’s fury is palpable as she storms toward me, only stopping when the fence obstructs her path. She might be nearly a foot shorter than I am, but the heat of her anger makes her feel larger than life.
What throws me completely off balance, however, is not her temper.
I’ve seen her fired up before—if not quite to this degree.
I would know how to handle that—I could even anticipate it.
But what’s put my tongue in knots is the fact that she doesn’t sound like she even recognizes me.
Have I changed that much in the eight years since she last saw me?
Sure, I’ve bulked up some.
I can grow a proper five-o’clock shadow now, and I’m sporting more tattoos.
But am I really all that different? Enough that the woman I dated for two years wouldn’t know who I am?