Chapter 8 - THE DAUGHTER WHO REFUSED TO RUN
Griffin refused to quit her job.
Salvatore hated it.
Not because he looked down on her work.
But because he knew Vittorio's people were watching.
“You don't have to work there anymore,” he told her.
Griffin crossed her arms.
“I like my job.”
“You work twelve-hour shifts.”
“So do plenty of people.”
“You're exhausted.”
“Then help me find a better schedule. Don't tell me to stop working.”
Salvatore stared.
Then smiled faintly.
“You really are your mother's daughter.”
Griffin rolled her eyes.
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
He laughed.
Then grew serious.
“I don't want to control your life.”
“Good.”
“I just want you safe.”
Griffin's expression softened.
“I know.”
She hesitated.
Then asked, “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“Did you ever want children?”
Salvatore went still.
For a moment, he looked toward the window.
Then answered quietly.
“Yes.”
Griffin swallowed.
“How many?”
He smiled sadly.
“Two.”
She blinked.
“Really?”
“A daughter and a son.”
Griffin looked down.
Salvatore continued.
“I imagined teaching them to swim. Taking them to school. Complaining about homework.”
His voice broke.
“I imagined ordinary things.”
Griffin's eyes filled.
He looked at her.
“I didn't know I'd already had one.”
She stepped closer.
Then, slowly, she hugged him.
Salvatore froze.
For one extraordinary second, he didn't move.
Then his arms closed around her.
Carefully.
As though he were holding something fragile and priceless.
Griffin whispered, “We can still do ordinary things.”
May you like
Salvatore closed his eyes.
And cried.
