Page 157 of The Story of You

Julius peels off a list of Italian curses under his breath, which is for Oliver. “Amore, stay with me. We don’t know what’s sturdy in here and what’s not.”

Simon pushes his glasses up his nose. “It’s weird thinking of you having a home that wasn’t The Home, Dar,” he says.

“This stopped being my home when Mama died.” He siphons through the books, chucking them over his shoulder onto the floor without care. “Aha! Here it is. My secret copy ofFlowers in the Attic. You know, us boys were a bit like flowers in the attic, Sye, but without the … you know.”

I shake my head, moving to the pile of clothes, picking up one of Oliver’s old shirts and wondering if he was ever really that tiny.

Darius hangs onto the book and moves through the rooms. Simon, Shane, Asher, and Wyatt follow, the missing pieces of himself, trailing faithfully behind him. Maybe someday, Darius will let his missing pieces reattach. If he doesn’t, at least they’re there.

I sit, sinking into the couch, hoping a million cockroaches don’t come parading out. Lakshan studies me. “Come to, Daddy,” I say, reaching for him.

His dark eyes light up. He climbs into my lap. “You’re okay.”

“I think so. I don’t love being here, but I’m glad we came. Oliver was right, there weren’t just bad memories here. I loved watching him grow up so much. Are you … are you sure you don’t want one, Lak? A child?” I know I’ve asked him many times, even once recently, but what if he changes his mind?

“I am certain I have one. If you meananotherone, still no. Do you?”

“Also, still no. I’m not good at the letting go part, baby.” I’mthatparent. The one who’s always going to be interfering in his son’s life. With good intentions, sure, but society would dictate I’m not to do that.

And I don’t care. They can handle their children as they wish. I’ll protect mine as I see fit, especially given our circumstances.

But maybe one child is enough to do that to.

“Something I love about you. I wouldn’t want you to let me go.”

I raise a brow. “We’ve talked about that. Try to escape and when I find you—because I will find you—I’ll keep you on a chain bolted to the floor in our room.”

“That’s not a very good deterrent.”

I run a hand through his hair. “While you’re my captive, it will be all vanilla sex and sugary nicknames. Perhaps I’ll even read to you from the floweriest poetry book I can find.”

His expression says he can’t decide between horrified and horny. Must be hard to be on the submissive side of humiliation kink. “I won’t risk it, Daddy.”

“Good.” Lakshan is one of the pieces sitting in the middle of my heart. If he left me, I’d implode from the inside.

“Do you want to look anywhere else?” he asks.

The living room and the kitchen were my domains. I feel oddly at home sitting where I am, even with the flashes of the memories I don’t want, surrounding me, begging me to look, threatening to take me under.

“I’d like to show Oliver around.”

“May I get him, sir? I think I can hear Oliver and Darius bickering. Good time to break them up.”

I nod, kissing him deeply and then standing him to give a hefty smack to his ass. “Don’t be long.”

Then I’m alone. I make the mistake of letting one of the images seduce me into giving it attention. A place over by the wall.Kiss me like you love me, butterfly.I break into a sweat. I let my head hang in my hands, breathing long and slow, the sound filling the room.

Laughter from the stairs snaps me out of it in time to catch Oliver’s smiling eyes and Lakshan’s hopeful gaze. “Something you want to show me, Dad?”

Standing from the couch, I keep the shirt in my hand—it’s got a bear with a pink tutu on it. I’m pretty sure it was a shirt “meant for little girls” but fuck it. If Oliver wanted to wear it, he would.

“Mama’s room. I bet she’s got some pretty dresses you’ll like. Probably even her wedding dress—you can have it specially tailored for you.”

“Oh really? Am I allowed to get married? Can I tell Julius you’ve finally conceded?”

I raise a dark brow. “Julius? Not in this lifetime. I’m going to find you a nice, boring police officer for a husband. Someone who knows how to use a firearm and will obediently do what I tell him to do.”

Said Italian nuisance joins us. He threads his fingers into Oliver’s. “What’s happening now?”