Luca read it twice, his face unreadable.
“Sarah,” he said carefully, “this could be meant to turn you against me.”
“Or warn me.”
“Yes.”
The honesty frightened me more than denial would have.
That night, I could not sleep. I sat by the window and watched the streetlights flicker over wet pavement. Below, Luca stood outside the bakery entrance, not guarding us exactly, not imposing, just unable to leave.
At midnight, Ash appeared beside me with his blanket trailing behind him.
“Is the big man my dad?”
The question was so quiet I almost missed it.
I pulled him into my lap.
“Yes.”
He leaned against me without surprise.
“Does Lena know?”
“Maybe in her own way.”
“Did he leave us?”
My throat tightened.
“No, sweetheart. He didn’t know where we were.”
Ash was quiet for a long time.
“Did you hide?”
I closed my eyes.
“Yes.”
“Because you were scared?”
“Yes.”
He nodded slowly.
Then he said, “He counts storms.”
I kissed his hair.
“I know.”
In the morning, everything felt different because the truth had entered the room and taken a seat at our table.
