Page 230 of King of Pain

I’ve always been in awe of you. Not just for your bravery, but for the size of your heart. Even after everything, you never stopped caring about other people. That’s a rare and beautiful thing, my boy. Never lose it.

Now, aboutus. I know we never sat down and had “the talk” about your identity. Truth is, one of my favorite things about our relationship is that we didn’t need to. I knew. You knew I knew. We both knew it was safer for you that way. And you never had to question my love or my support. You never will. Not in this life or beyond.

And Anthony… my other son. I amso happyyou found him. From the moment I first saw the way you talked about him, I knew. This is it for you. He is your person, Chance. Hang on to him with every ounce of fight you’ve got. Life won’t always be easy, but with the right person by your side, it will always be worth it.

I’ve grown to love Anthony in ways you can’t imagine. I wish more than anything to be able to spend more time with him in person. But if, for any reason, I don’t get to, please, please make sure he knows this: I love him. Truly. And Icannot waitfor the two of you to raise my grand babies. And youbetterhave babies, Chance Sullivan, you hear me?

You two will show them what a loving home can be… a home I always wanted for you.

I love you, Chance. I love youboth.

Love, Ma

TRACK SIXTY•EIGHT

Greatest Love of All

Anthony

I fold the letter carefully, my fingers trembling as I smooth it flat in my lap. When I finally lift my gaze, Chance is watching me with a soft, open look—the one that always undoes me.

I swipe the tears from my cheeks and murmur, “It’s like she knew.”

Chance nods, voice low. “She did.”

I look down again at the letter, at her handwriting that feels like a hug from beyond.

Chance reaches across, his palm warm and solid as it covers my shaking hand.

I swallow thickly. “Of all days—” My voice catches, too raw to finish the thought.

Chance squeezes my hand gently. “I know.”

Then he rises from the couch, holding his hand out to me, eyes still soft but shining with something else now. Hope. A little mischief.

“Come here. I have something to show you.”

I give him a shaky laugh. “I don’t know if there’s anything more I can take today.”

But when he wiggles his fingers at me in invitation, there’s no question. I slide my hand into his without hesitation and follow him, one thought grounding me through the swirl of emotion:I’ll never not follow him.

Chance leads me across the living room, stopping outside the spare room—his studio.

He swings the door open and steps aside.

I peer in, expecting a new painting in progress, but my heart stills the second I gaze inside.

His art supplies have been neatly stacked and tucked away in the corner, making space for something else entirely: a crib.

I flip on the lights and walk over to get a better look. It’s a beautiful dark mahogany, intricate carvings along the headboard. A soft blue pad inside, printed with tiny vinyl records. A mobile of musical notes spins slowly above it.

All I can do is stare.

My brain is struggling to form words.

“When—” I manage, voice hoarse.

Chance gives a soft laugh. “I had it delivered a couple days ago. Kept the door shut while I built it. It’s a miracle you didn’t wander in and ruin the surprise.”