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With slow steps, I made my way to the building, remaining quiet as I slipped in.

Other than the outburst I’d experienced weeks before, Enzo had displayed few emotions. But the way he was playing, the raw power of his long fingers and the powerful sound of the chords he played was awe inspiring.

I remained in the back, refusing to disturb him. When he was finished, he lowered his head, his fingers remaining on the keys.

“That was amazing,” I finally said.

He didn’t stiffen as usual around me, but took his time rising from the piano bench. When he turned, I realized how guarded his expressions were.

“My father hated when I played piano. I was forced to hide it from him. I don’t know why he bothered to turn my mother’s old greenhouse into this place. He never came to listen to me play.”

“Did you ever think that him not coming here was more about the sadness your father felt in losing your mother?”

“How would I know? He never talked about her.”

I moved closer, trying to find the right words. “I lost my first wife to ALS, a horrible disease that I watched consume every inch of her. There was nothing I could do. Not a damn thing. In the end, Carrie did her best to comfort me instead of the other way around. When she died, I shut down. I was nothing but a shell of a human being if that. I think your father was incapable of shoving aside the sadness and depression. Maybe providing this space for you was the only way he could show you how much he loved you.”

Enzo snorted at first, but shook his head. “I never thought of it that way.”

“You were too busy hating him. I get that. I felt the same about my mother when my father died. She shut down and I didn’t understand for many years.”

“You’re a cop.”

“I was a drug enforcement agent, but no longer.”

“Why?” His old defiance was still just under the surface.

“Because they betrayed me.”

“Like you did my father.”

I took a few seconds to answer. “You’re right.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t, Enzo, but I’m not here to hurt or destroy your family. Your father befriended me and yes, I’m certain you felt like he treated me more like a son than his own flesh and blood. I’m sorry if you did feel that way. I never wanted to come between you and your father. Just the opposite.”

“He trusted you.”

“Yes.”

“You lied to him.”

“Yes,” I admitted, uncertain of where this was going.

He wasn’t certain either. I could tell by the look on his face. “The men trust you. They respect you even after learning what you really are.”

“What I was.”

He was clearly debating what I was telling him.

“Then I’ll trust you,” he said so quietly I strained to hear him. “That doesn’t mean we’ll be friends.”

“I accept that.”

“I have one request since you’re my guardian and all.”

I found myself walking closer. “Okay. Shoot.”