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“He’s… a lot.”
Mia gives a dry shrug. “He’s Brando.”
“That’s not a defense,” I murmur. “That’s a goddamn warning sign.”
She smirks faintly. “Fair.”
We fall into silence. I tear at my croissant, shredding it into flakes I don’t eat. She watches me with that quiet, patient look people wear when they know you’re going to break eventually. And yeah. She doesn’t have to wait long.
“Can I ask you something?” I say, voice low.
Mia nods.
“How do you survive a man like that?”
Her eyes sharpen, but she doesn’t ask what I mean. We both know I’m not talking about petty arguments or who left the lights on. I’m talking about being loved by a man who would break the world open for you — and maybe break you along the way. A man whose obsession fits so tightly against his devotion you can’t tell them apart.
Mia leans back, eyes soft, voice steady.
“I don’t survive Brando,” she says. “I live in him.”
My breath stalls.
“That’s… terrifying.”
Her smile is small, tired, just a little feral.
“He’s not perfect. He’s a Gatti. He’s violent, controlling, ruthless — and worse, he knows when I’m lying to myself even before I do.”
I nod slowly. “Yeah. That sounds about right.”
“But he’d die before he let anything bad touch me,” she says quietly. “And honestly? I need that.”
The words settle between us, heavy. I hate how much I understand.
“He wants you safe, Max,” she adds, voice softening. “Notjust because you’re family. Because if you broke, if something happened to you… he doesn’t know if he could be the one to pick up the pieces.”
I sit with that. Let it settle under my skin like a bruise I didn’t see coming. It doesn’t feel warm. It feels like pressure. Like being handed a weight you never asked for — but now you’re the one who has to carry it.
“He’s not my keeper,” I mutter.
“No,” Mia agrees softly. “But he’s your brother-in-law. And for better or worse, he loves you.”
I look away. Because the truth is, I don’t know what the hell to do with love like that anymore. Love that shields you and suffocates you at the same time. Love that wraps around your ribs so tight you can’t breathe, even when it’s meant to protect you.
I thought I wanted space. I still do. But some part of me wonders if I’ve drifted so far I’m just floating now — untethered, untouched, unloved, except by a ghost. Saxon’s ghost, still tangled around my throat.
And the distraction that is Zack. He’s the noise that drowns out the echo Saxon left behind. But even when I’m with Zack —even when his chaos wraps around me like fire — Saxon’s still there. Front row. Unmoved. Unshaken. Like a ghost sitting in the dark, arms folded, watching every desperate move I make, knowing exactly why I’m making it.
And the truth that gnaws at me, the one I choke down every time I try to pretend otherwise, is that you can bury yourself under adrenaline and heat and recklessness — but you can’t replace the man who tattooed himself into your bones.
Saxon North didn’t just leave me. Hestayed. He stayed in every scar, in every breathless second I try to escape myself, in every corner of my mind I thought I could lock him out of. And no matter how hard I pull Zack into my life, no matter howmany times I let myself get lost in his fire, Saxon’s ghost is still the one I can’t shake.
“Thanks for the carbs,” I mumble, voice rough as I look at my sister. She nudges my foot under the coffee table and bumps my shoulder as she leans into me.
“Anytime.”
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