Fourteen
Aspen
“What’s the matter, Mom?” Kai asks me later that day when he arrives home from school.
Am I really so obvious? I thought I was doing well at keeping my haywire emotions under control, but Kai is his father’s son. He watches and assesses and has Kaiden’s same razor-sharp intelligence.
Right now, it’s still tempered with a childlike innocence and unconditional love, but I see him growing up a little bit - too much - every day. See him becoming independent and pulling faces when I try to hug him because it’s not cool anymore.
“Just a hard day,” I tell him, like my life wasn’t upended by his father declaring he still loves me this afternoon.
Guilt rides me hard, and I attempt to push it away, telling myself I did the right thing keeping Kai’s existence a secret. It was justified.
Like you refused to accept Kaiden did the right thing by walking away to protect you?
My conscience is less forgiving. I ruthlessly push the guilt down and plaster on a smile. I did what I had to do.
Like Kaiden did?
Ignoring the voice in my head, I answer my son with a nonchalance I don’t feel. “Nothing that won’t pass. How was school?”
Kai shrugs out of his backpack and tosses it near the door - a habit I’ve tried and failed to break. “Fine. We’re doing genetics in science.”
My heart stutters. Of course they are. The universe really does have a sick sense of humor.
“That’s interesting,” I manage, keeping my voice light even as my pulse kicks up. “What are you learning about?”
“Eye color and stuff. How traits get passed down.” He wanders into the kitchen and opens the fridge, peering inside like he always does even though he knows what’s in there. “Mrs. Patterson says brown eyes are dominant over blue or green.”
I busy myself at the counter, pulling out ingredients for dinner that I don’t really want to make. “That’s right.”
“So, if someone has green eyes like mine, what does that mean about their parents?” He emerges with an apple, takes a bite, and looks at me with those unusual seafoam eyes - my eyes - set in Kaiden’s face.
The question isn’t innocent curiosity. It’s pointed. Kai’s been asking more questions lately about his father. Figures Kaiden made an appearance at the same time, when I’m already struggling with what to tell him.
“Every gene has two copies,” I say carefully, turning to face him while I grip the edge of the counter and try not to remember how it was Kaiden who taught me this, rather than the school.
“One from each parent. Green eyes are recessive, which means both parents would need to carry the gene for green eyes, even if they don’t have green eyes themselves. ”
“But you have green eyes,” Kai points out, taking another bite of his apple. “So what about my dad?”
The question hangs in the air between us. I’ve deflected variations of it dozens of times over the years, but something about today - about seeing Kaiden, about hearing him say he still loves me - makes the familiar evasions stick in my throat.
“Your dad has dark eyes,” I tell him, which is true. Kaiden’s eyes are so dark brown they’re almost black. “But he must carry the recessive gene.”
Kai processes this, his brow furrowing in that way that’s pure Kaiden. “Will I ever meet him?”
My breath catches. “Why are you asking about this now?”
He shrugs, trying for casual, but I see the tension in his shoulders. “Some kids at school were talking about their dads. Tommy’s dad is teaching him to play guitar. Jason’s dad took him camping.” He looks down at his apple. “I just wondered what mine was like.”
The guilt that’s been simmering all afternoon threatens to boil over. I move closer to him, resisting the urge to pull him into a hug he’ll only tolerate for a moment. “Things with me and your dad are… complicated.”
“That’s what you always say.” There’s a hint of frustration in his voice now. “But what does that even mean?”
I don’t know how to answer that. How do I explain that his father is part of an organization most people only know from movies?
That I kept Kai a secret because I was terrified of what might happen if the wrong people found out?
That the man I saw today still makes my heart race even after everything he put me through?
“It means he had a difficult life,” I say finally. “And sometimes people make hard choices because they think it’s the only way to protect the ones they love.”
Kai’s eyes narrow, and I see him filing that information away, turning it over in that sharp mind of his. “Did he love you?”
The question catches me off guard. “Yes,” I whisper, because despite everything, I’ve never doubted that. “He did.”
“And you?” Kai presses, his eyes searching mine with an intensity that reminds me so much of Kaiden it makes my chest ache. “Do you still love him?”
I open my mouth, then close it again. The lie won’t come. Not to my son, not after the day I’ve had. But the truth feels too dangerous, too raw.
“It’s complicated,” I say again, hating myself for the repeated evasion.
Kai makes a frustrated sound and tosses his apple core toward the trash. It misses, bouncing off the rim, but he doesn’t move to pick it up. “Everything’s always complicated with you when it comes to him.”
“Kai…”
“Forget it.” He grabs his backpack from where he dumped it and heads toward his room. “I have homework.”
I watch him go, my throat tight. The door to his room doesn’t slam - even at nine, he’s too controlled for that, another trait inherited from his father - but the quiet click somehow feels worse.
I lean against the counter, pressing my palms flat against the cool surface, and try to breathe through the panic clawing at my chest.
What exactly am I afraid of?
The years-old threat has dissipated. Kaiden wants to walk back into my life. Kai needs and deserves a father…
So what’s stopping me from making what seems like the logical step?
Sucking in a breath, I push off the counter and walk to Kai’s door, hesitating with my hand raised to knock. Except… what am I supposed to say? That I saw his father today for the first time in ten years? That his father doesn’t even know he exists?
I lower my hand and return to the kitchen, retrieving the apple core Kai left on the floor and wondering if it’s too early for a glass of wine. It’s 5pm somewhere, right?
My phone pings to signify a message. It’s been sitting on the counter where I left it after getting home, the screen dark but somehow threatening. I haven’t checked it since leaving the café. Haven’t wanted to see if Kaiden messaged again.
But now curiosity wins. I pick it up, unlock it, and find three texts waiting.
I meant what I said.
I know I don’t deserve another chance, but I’m asking anyway.
Please don’t shut me out again. Not when we finally have the opportunity to put the past to rest… even if that’s all we do.
My fingers hover over the keyboard. Part of me wants to tell him everything right now, just rip off the Band-Aid. You have a son. His name is Kai. He has your stubbornness, your eye for detail and your way of processing the world.
But the other part - the part that’s kept this secret for nearly ten years, not just from him, but from my public image as an artist, too - screams at me to exercise some caution.
Vito may be dead, but he wasn’t the only one.
The others remain. Don Salvatore. Therese’s husband, Franco, the Don’s other consigliere.
All those soldiers loyal to the Viper. It wasn’t the man himself who came after me, after all.
It was his hired goons. Thugs who are undoubtedly still in the employ of La Cosa Nostra.
I refuse to believe they were all ignorant to what was happening.
And if I’m honest, it’s the main man, Salvatore Rossi, the Don himself, who frightens me the most.
Vito was his brother, his consigliere, his second hand. How likely is it that he didn’t know what was going on? What kind of a leader would that make him?
A poor one; a weak one. That’s what.
Which means he must have known what the Viper was doing… And he allowed it. Even though my mother was his mistress. Even though I’m the half-sister of his son.
Although not blessed with the sanctity of marriage, the bloodlines mean Kaiden’s child is the nephew of the Don’s son. Milo might not have any contact - or even any knowledge - of his paternity. But unlike Kaiden, I have no doubt Sal knows about Milo.
What he doesn’t know is the family link Kaiden shares with his own flesh and blood.
I’m very sure my mother would never let that slip.
She never even liked Sal that much. To hear her tell it, she caught his eye, and her own opinion had no stake in the matter.
What the Don wanted, he got, and resistance was futile… if not downright dangerous.
So yeah, the cautious part of me remembers how precarious things were back then.
How Mamma’s voice shook when she told me to keep this secret.
That and the cuts, bruises and broken bones she told me Kaiden endured after he returned to the compound, reins in the emotional part of my brain that’s still wired from seeing Kaiden this afternoon and realizing the attraction is still there, as strong as ever.
Setting the phone down without responding, I pour myself that glass of wine after all.