Page 29 of Veil of the Past
I turn toward the bedroom, my gaze lingering on the closed door. Alessia is in there, probably trying to make sense of what she overheard, maybe wondering what the hell is going on between my brother and me. She doesn’t know any of it. She doesn’t know about the dark cloud that looms over our family, the secrets we keep buried, the scars we don’t show.
But she will. She’s smart, and she’s already started to ask questions, questions I’m not sure I can answer.
I run a hand over my face, feeling the rough stubble on my jaw, and sigh. I should go in there, reassure her, tell her something, anything, to put her at ease. But what would I even say? What could I say that wouldn’t sound like a lie?
I take a step toward the door, hesitating. I don’t want to drag her into this mess. She’s too good, too kind, too pure, too… everything I don’t deserve. But she’s already involved, whether I like it or not. And it’s all my fucking fault.
I push the door open slowly, finding her sitting on the edge of the bed, my shirt hanging loose on her slender frame. Her eyes lift to meet mine, and there’s a mix of curiosity and concern in her gaze.
"Is everything okay?" she asks, her voice tentative as if she’s afraid to push too hard.
I nod, forcing a smile that feels more like a grimace.
"Yeah," I lie, stepping into the room. "Just… family stuff."
She nods, but I can tell she doesn’t buy it. She’s too sharp for that, too intuitive. "You and Nicolo… you’re close, but there’s a lot of tension there," she observes, her eyes searching mine.
I chuckle softly, but there’s no humor in it. "That’s one way to put it," I mutter, crossing the room to sit beside her. I can feel the warmth of her body next to mine, the softness of her skin where our arms brush. It’s grounding, calming, and I need that right now.
She doesn’t push for more, and I’m grateful for it. I don’t have the words to explain it all to her—not yet. Maybe not ever.
We sit there in silence for a moment, and I can feel the weight of the world pressing down on me, but then she reaches out, her hand covering mine. Her touch is gentle and comforting, and some of the tension bleeds out of me. In the chaos of everything, she’s the only one who can calm me.
"Whatever it is," she says softly, "you don’t have to face it alone." Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I realize how much I’ve been carrying, how much I’ve been hiding, even from myself. I nod, swallow hard, and squeeze her hand.
"Thanks," I whisper, my voice rough. "But some things… some things you have to face alone."
She doesn’t argue, just nods, and I know that it’s hard for her to not ask questions, but I’m grateful for it. I don’t want her involved in this, not any deeper than she already is. I don’t want her caught in the crossfire.
I lean over, pressing a kiss to Alessia’s forehead, and she closes her eyes, leaning into me. For a moment, I let myself forget everything—Helen, Nicolo, the dark past that threatens to swallow me whole. I let myself just be here, with her, in this quiet moment, in this place where nothing else matters. But I know it can’t last. It never does.
Lying down I pull her closer, feeling the warmth of her body against mine. Alessia settles into my side, her head resting on my shoulder, and I wrap an arm around her, holding her there. She fits perfectly, like she was meant to be here all along, and for a moment, I allow myself to enjoy the comfort of it, the simplicity of just being close to her.
I run my fingers through her hair, feeling the soft, fiery strands slip between them. Her hair is like silk, and I can’t help but lose myself in the sensation. It calms me, the repetitive motion, the feel of her so close, and I find myself relaxing, my heartbeat slowing, my thoughts quieting.
Alessia lets out a small sigh, nuzzling closer to me. “You always do that,” she murmurs, her voice soft, almost sleepy.
“Do what?” I ask, my voice low, as I continue to weave my fingers through her hair.
“Play with my hair,” she says, her lips curling into a faint smile. “You’ve done it ever since we were teens.”
I chuckle softly, the sound rumbling in my chest. “I guess I never grew out of the habit,” I admit, my fingers tracing gentle patterns against her scalp.
“I don’t mind,” she whispers, her eyes drifting shut. “It feels nice.”
Her words are so simple, so honest, and they hit me in a way I don’t expect. I feel a tightness in my chest, an ache I can’t quite name. It feels good to hold her like this, to touch her, to feel her heartbeat against mine. It feels right, in a way that nothing else in my life ever has.Shefeels right.
But I can’t forget what Nicolo said. I can’t forget what I saw tonight, or the threat that lingers like a cloud over us. I don’t want to pull her into this, into my darkness. But now, with her so close, it feels impossible to let go.
I brush a strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear, my thumb grazing the curve of her cheek. She looks up at me, her green eyes half-lidded, soft and trusting, and I feel my resolve faltering.
“Alessia,” I murmur, my voice low, almost hoarse.
“Hmm?” she responds, her eyes fluttering open, searching my face.
I want to tell her everything. I want to tell her about Helen, about the past I’ve tried so hard to bury. I want to tell her that I’m afraid of what’s coming, that I don’t know if I can protect her from it. But the words catch in my throat, tangled with fear and doubt.
Instead, I lean down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “Thank you,” I whisper against her skin.
