Page 71 of His to Destroy

Luca stands in the doorway, barefoot in his little pajama set, clutching his stuffed tiger against his chest. His hair is tousled from sleep, and there’s a crease on his cheek where he must have pressed it into the pillow.

But it’s his eyes that gut me.

They’re wide, curious and worried.

At least there’s no more fear in them.

“Mama?” he says softly, taking a tentative step into the room. “Why are you crying?”

Gaspare releases me gently and rises to his feet, crossing the room toward Luca in a few strides.

I stay where I am, overwhelmed, trying to steady my breathing.

Gaspare crouches in front of Luca, bringing himself down to his level.

“Hey, buddy,” he says, his voice calm, warm. “It’s okay. Your mama’s not hurt.”

Luca’s lip wobbles. “But she’s sad?”

Gaspare smiles gently and places a hand on Luca’s small shoulder. “She’s not sad because of anything bad happening right now, okay? She’s just remembering something that hurt a long time ago.”

Luca frowns, clutching his tiger tighter.

“What’s that?”

Gaspare turns to give me a quick glance and I stare back at him blankly.

Someday, the story of Luca’s birth will come out and he’ll hear it. But not like this. Definitely not now.

Gaspare seems to hear the words I’m not saying.

Because he turns to Luca and pulls him in closer.

“It’s in the past, kiddo. And she’s okay now,” he tells Luca. “So, you know what we’re going to do? We’re going to make sure she’s always okay. You and me, together.”

Luca’s frown deepens, and for a moment I think he’s going to cry too.

But then he squares his little shoulders, his chin jutting out stubbornly.

“Like superheroes?” he asks with all seriousness.

Gaspare chuckles, a low, rough sound that vibrates through the room and warms something inside me.

“Exactly. Just like superheroes,” he says.

Luca beams.

Gaspare ruffles his hair. “And you’re the strongest one of all.”

Luca straightens proudly at that, a tiny, fierce warrior in his Batman pajamas.

I bite back a tear that threatens to fall again—but this time it’s not from sadness.

It’s from something deeper.

Something sweeter.

Hope.

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