Thirty
Aspen
Iknew it would be like this. I had absolutely no doubt that spending time ‘as a family’ would shove me firmly into the danger zone. That and the X-rated memories that have assaulted me at his talk of a future.
And I was right.
Every carefully constructed wall I’ve spent the last three weeks building has crumbled to dust. All it took was one afternoon at the park, watching Kaiden and Kai kick a ball around, hearing their shared laughter echo as they roughhoused and let loose in the wide-open space.
Seeing the way our son’s face lit up at just having his dad with us.
The domesticity of it all terrifies me.
Now we’re back at my house, and Kai’s upstairs getting ready for bed, and Kaiden’s in my kitchen making tea like he belongs here. Like this is normal. Like we’re a real family instead of two people held together by biology and history and a mountain of unresolved feelings.
I hover in the doorway, watching him move through my space with an ease that shouldn’t be possible. He knows where I keep the mugs now. Knows I take honey in my tea instead of sugar. Knows to grab the kettle before it whistles so it doesn’t wake Kai.
When did that happen? When did he learn these small, intimate details of my daily life?
“You’re staring,” he says without turning around, and I curse his ability to sense me. “I’m allowed to stare,” I counter, though I don’t move from the doorway. “It’s my kitchen.”
He turns then, two mugs in his hands, and the look he gives me makes my breath catch. It’s not the calculating, watchful expression I remember from our youth. This is something rawer, more vulnerable. Like he’s letting me see beneath the armor he’s worn for so long.
“Is it really about the kitchen, Aspen?” His voice is low, careful, like he’s approaching a skittish animal that might bolt at any moment.
I know what he’s asking. What he’s really asking. And I’m not ready to answer it.
“The tea’s going to get cold,” I say instead, pushing off from the doorframe and crossing to the small breakfast nook because that seems way safer than getting cozy in the lounge.
These are the moments I’ve done my best to avoid over the past three weeks. The ones where it’s just the two of us, without Kai as a buffer. Where the air feels too thick and the space between us too charged with everything we’re not saying.
Tonight feels different. It’s my own fault for breaking my resolve, and now I’m left with the consequences. The air between us crackles with something I don’t want to name, something that makes my skin feel too tight, and my heartbeat too fast.
I sit down at the breakfast nook, wrapping my hands around the mug he sets in front of me. The ceramic is warm, grounding. I focus on that instead of the way Kaiden settles into the chair across from me, his long legs stretching out under the table until his knee brushes against mine.
I don’t move away. That should tell me something, but I’m not ready to examine what.
“Kai settled pretty quickly after his meltdown,” Kaiden says, breaking the silence. “He went to bed happy.”
“He’s always happy when you’re around.” The words come out more bitter than I intend, and I see him flinch slightly.
“That bothers you.” It’s not a question.
“Of course it bothers me.” I take a sip of tea, welcoming the burn. “I’m the one who’s been here for every scraped knee, every nightmare, every parent-teacher conference. Then you show up, and suddenly you’re his favorite person.”
“I’m not trying to replace you, Aspen.”
“Aren’t you, though?” I set the mug down too hard, tea sloshing over the rim. “Moving two streets away. Being here every day. Tucking him in at night. What exactly do you think you’re doing?”
His jaw tightens, and I watch him choose his words carefully. “I’m trying to be his father. That’s what you want, isn’t it? What you said he deserves.”
The accusation lands like a slap, and I feel my cheeks flush. “That’s not fair.”
“Then tell me what would be fair.” He leans forward, his dark eyes pinning me in place. “Tell me the rules, Aspen, because I’m trying to navigate this blind. You kept him from me for ten years, and now that I’m here, you resent me for being here. I can’t win.”
“You think this is about winning?” My voice rises despite my efforts to keep it down. “This isn’t a game, Kaiden. This is my life. Our son’s life. And you just…”
“Mom?” Kai’s accusing voice cuts through my building tirade, and I whirl around to find him standing at the bottom of the stairs with a scowl on his face that belies his years. “Are you guys fighting?”
Guilt crashes over me in a wave. “No, sweetheart. We’re just talking. Adult stuff.”
“It sounded like fighting.” His lower lip trembles, but it’s with anger, not upset.
“Come on, let me get you back to bed.”
I throw a warning look at Kaiden when he makes to rise. No. This time, I’ll settle Kai myself.
He must understand my meaning, because he subsides into his seat and picks up his mug, watching me over the rim.
“Goodnight, buddy,” he says to Kai. “Be good for your mom.”
Kai’s lips tighten, but he turns and stomps back up the stairs, and I follow after him with a silent sigh.
“You were arguing,” he accuses me as soon as we’re in the privacy of his room. “It’s what you always do. Don’t you want me to have a dad?”
I sink onto the edge of his bed, my heart fracturing at the pain in his voice. “Of course I want you to have a dad. That’s not what this is about.”
“Then why are you mad at him all the time? It’s like you’re trying to chase him away. Even I can tell you don’t really want him here. Soon he’ll leave me, and it will all be your fault.”
The accusation lands with all the innocence of a child who doesn’t understand the significance of stabbing someone in the heart, and as much pain as if he’d actually done it.
His words steal the air from my lungs. Is that what I’m doing?
Am I so caught up in my own fear and resentment that I’m sabotaging the very thing my son needs most?
“Kai, that’s not…” I start, but the words die in my throat when I see his expression crumple. He turns away from me, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them in a protective gesture that breaks my heart.
“Just go,” he mumbles into his knees. “I’m tired.”
I want to argue. To defend myself. To explain that it’s more complicated than he understands. But looking at his small, hunched form, I’m scared he’s right. Maybe not about all of it, but enough.
Maybe what I really need to do is reevaluate my response to his dad.
I reach out to touch his shoulder, but he flinches away, and that small rejection hurts more than anything else tonight.
“Okay,” I whisper, standing on unsteady legs. “We’ll talk tomorrow. I love you.”
He doesn’t respond, and I force myself to leave his room, my insides quaking as the see-sawing emotions of the day catch up with me.
I make it halfway down the stairs before my legs give out. I sink onto the step, pressing my palms against my eyes, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to spill over.
This is exactly what I was afraid of. The perfect storm of everyone’s needs colliding, and me caught in the middle, unable to make anyone happy, including myself.
I don’t know how long I sit there before I hear footsteps. Slow, deliberate. Kaiden appears at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at me with an expression that’s equal parts concern and frustration.
“He blames me…” I trail off because isn’t he right to? This is all my fault, after all.
“What are you afraid of, Aspen? What’s holding you back?”
He looks so sincere, and I’m so emotionally spent, that I can’t stop the words from tumbling out.
“You,” I whisper, the word scraping out of my throat like broken glass. “I’m afraid of you, Kaiden. Of this. Of us.”
He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. Just watches me with those dark eyes that see too much, waiting for me to continue.
“I’m scared… Scared you’re going to leave us again. I don’t know how I’ll ever pick up all the pieces for Kai if he loses you, even if I’m not involved. Never mind if I am.”
Kaiden crouches down in front of me. “Aspen, I’m not going anywhere. I didn’t leave because I didn’t love you. I left because I did. I had to protect you, because I needed to live in a world where you did, even if it wasn’t with me.”
He clenches his jaw, his next words low and impactful. “But the man who forced us apart can’t use you to control me anymore. That’s over. And nothing and no one - not him nor anyone else - is keeping me from our son again. Not. Ever.”
He takes a deep breath. “And nothing is going to keep me from you, either. I was already invested in us, even before I knew about Kai. That hasn’t changed.”
I shake my head. His words resonate, but it’s really not that simple. “You can’t make sweeping promises you can’t keep, Kaiden. You work for the mafia. There will always be someone with a grudge who will think it benefits them to take you out of the equation.”
“No! It’s not that easy anymore.” The words are fierce, absolute, and they send a shiver down my spine. “I’ve spent the last year consolidating power, making alliances, eliminating threats. I’m not some low-level soldier anymore, Aspen. I’m a capo. That means something.”
“It means you’re higher up on the target list,” I scoff, even as my heart races at the intensity in his voice.
“It means I have resources. Protection. Nobody is going to take me down without starting a war, and believe me, no one wants that. The syndicates exist in a state of careful, mutual respect. All of them honoring the status quo.” He reaches out, his hand hovering near my knee but not quite touching.
“There hasn’t been a war since… well, the era of Al Capone.
Believe it or not, we’re all a lot more civilized these days. ”
Can I trust what he says? I stare at Kaiden, trying to reconcile his words with the fear that’s lived in my chest for a decade.
Protection. Resources. Power. They’re just words until they’re tested, until someone decides he’s worth more dead than alive.
But the conviction in his voice makes me want to believe him.
I know there’s an element of truth in them.
Mamma was always quick to say the various crime organizations were not what either the media or popular culture made them out to be.
This isn’t the much vaunted ‘Golden Age’ where prohibition fueled a street fighting black market and mindless thugs ran protection rackets which resulted in the average business owner getting a shake down if they didn’t pay up.
Mafia-related violence in New York is not the blood-soaked profession it used to be.
Or if it is, nobody is talking about it or reporting it.
I know for a fact the last major mob hit in New York was decades ago…
before I was born, even. When Paul Castellano was shot dead outside a steakhouse in Midtown Manhattan in 1985.
What about the Viper? Did he count?
None of the papers or news channels covered the story. Mamma says he died in his own suite at the Cosa Nostra compound. Natural causes?
My eyes fly to my husband. Kaiden?