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While Leo bounces excitedly into the kitchen, I try not to think about Zeke’s ridiculous marriage ultimatum. I keep telling myself there has to be another way. I’m a detective, for Christ’ssake. I don’t need some vigilante ex-mafioso to protect me. I can figure this out.

I grab two bowls from the cabinet, the ceramic clinking as my hands shake. All I need is evidence. Proof of their threats. One recorded conversation, one paper trail, one witness willing to testify. Then I can build a case against them, get them off the streets legally.

“Can I have chocolate sauce?” Leo asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Sure, buddy.” I reach for the bottle, squeezing a zigzag pattern over his vanilla ice cream. The familiar domestic moment grounds me, reminds me of what’s really important. I have Leo to think about. I can’t go running off half-cocked into some mafia showdown.

But I also can’t marry Zeke. The thought alone makes my chest tight. Not after Ryan. Zeke may not be like him or ever abuse me in the same way, but I still can’t do it. I just can’t. Can I?

The choice and consequences drag my heart to my feet. It feels impossible.

Leo digs into his ice cream, chocolate sauce smeared across his chin. Looking at him, so innocent and trusting, my responsibility settles heavily on my shoulders. I have to find another way. Not just for me, but for him too.

I take a bite of my own ice cream, barely tasting it as we make our way to the living room and turn on a movie.

We settle onto the couch and the TV blurs as my thoughts take over, cataloging all the possibilities. There must be something in the case files at work. Some leads I can follow, some connections I can make. I just need time to figure it out.

The thoughts spin in circles and time passes in the blink of an eye.

“Can we watch another one?” Leo asks through a yawn, snuggling deeper into my side. I shake my head and focus on the TV. The credits forKung Fu Pandaroll across the TV screen, casting a blue glow over our dark living room.

I didn’t see any of it.

“It’s already past your bedtime, buddy.” I run my fingers through his sandy blond hair.

“Please?” He tilts his head up, giving me those puppy dog eyes that are getting harder to resist. “Just one more?”

I glance at my phone—10:43 PM. Way too late for a school night, but the warmth of him curled against me under our favorite fleece blanket makes me hesitate. These quiet moments together are becoming rare as he grows more independent.

“How about we just stay here for a little bit?” I suggest, pulling the blanket higher around us both. “We can talk about your favorite parts.”

Leo yawns again but nods eagerly. He’ll likely be asleep in no time, which means I’ll have to carry him to bed. “I liked when Po finally believed in himself and did the split.”

“That was pretty awesome.” I smile as he mimics Po’s kung fu moves under the blanket.

“Aunt Evie?” His voice grows serious. “Do you think Mom and Dad would’ve liked this movie?”

My heart clenches. “Yeah, baby. They would’ve loved watching it with you,” I reply, my voice soft. I try to keep the emotion in check.

He falls silent for a moment, his small body warm and nestled against mine. “I miss them,” he finally whispers.

Those three little words hit me like a punch to the gut.

“Me too.” I lean down and kiss the top of his head, inhaling the scent of his shampoo, a comforting reminder of his innocence. “So much.”

We settle into a comfortable silence, letting the world outside fade away. The only sounds are the gentle hum of the TV and Leo’s steady breathing, each breath a small reassurance he’s still here with me. I watch as his eyes close, only to snap open again as he fights off sleep.

“Tell me about them?” he mumbles, the words slurring as he struggles to keep his eyelids from surrendering to fatigue.

“What do you want to know?” I ask, hoping to give him a glimpse into the memories swirling like ghosts in my mind.

“Everything.” He’s asleep before I say another word. Carefully, I pick him up and carry him to bed.

After tucking him in and kissing his forehead, I head back to the living room. The house is too quiet, too empty. I settle back onto the couch.

A flash of light through the window catches my attention. Headlights. A black SUV with tinted windows pulls up across the street, engine idling. I wait for someone to get out, but minutes tick by, and the vehicle remains stationary, its headlights cutting through the darkness like predatory eyes.

It’s much too late for someone to just sit out there.