Ghosts Don’t Knock (Andrea’s Point of View)

 It happened two days after Doc slipped the ring on my finger.

I haven’t told anyone yet. Not Kay, not Joe. Not even Anthony really understood what the shiny new thing on Mama’s finger meant. It wasn’t a secret, but it didn’t feel like something to shout from the rooftops. Not when everything in me still felt... unsteady.

Doc understood. He moved through the days like he always did—steady, warm, and patient. He didn’t ask for more than I could give.

But I could feel it in him: hope.

And I wanted that hope. I really did. I just wasn’t sure I trusted it yet.

Then the knock came at the door.

I was home alone with Anthony, trying to get him to nap, when I heard three short knocks. Calm. Measured. Not the frantic pounding of someone desperate, or the friendly rap of someone familiar.

When I opened the door, it was like the air left my lungs.

Tio.

He looked good. Too good. Like he hadn’t spent months on trial for ruining our lives. Like the weight of what he’d done hadn’t aged him. His shirt was pressed. His smile was soft.

He looked like the man I once trusted. The man I almost loved.

I didn't let him inside.

“Tio,” I said flatly.

“Hi, Andy.” He had the audacity to look... relieved. “I heard you were home. I wanted to see for myself.”

“How?”

He smirked. “Kay still talks to my sister. You know how things travel.”

I crossed my arms, heart hammering. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I know.” He sighed and glanced past me, as if he could sense Anthony’s presence even through the walls. “But I had to try. I wanted to talk. About him.”

My entire body stiffened.

“You don’t get to want things,” I said quietly. “Not when it comes to my son.”

His mouth twitched. “Our son.”

That was the moment. The fuse. The match to dry tinder.

I stepped outside and pulled the door nearly closed behind me. My voice dropped to ice.

“Anthony doesn’t know you. And after what you did, he never will. I gave you a chance once. You threw it away.”

“I didn’t hurt him,” Tio snapped.

“No. You just hurt me. And when I was gone, he could’ve been left in the wind if Doc hadn’t stepped in.”

He flinched when I said Doc’s name.

“That’s what this is about, huh?” he said. “He’s playing house with my kid? Pretending to be the man you need?”

“He’s not pretending,” I hissed. “He is the man. He’s the one Anthony runs to when he falls. The one who sang him back to sleep when I couldn’t. He’s the one who earned that place.”

Tio’s voice was sharp now. “And what about me? You kept my son from me. That’s not your decision to make.”

“It was,” I said. “Because it was about safety. About love. About protecting him from chaos—and from you.”

Tio stared at me. “So, what now? You just erase me from his life?”

I didn’t answer.

Instead, I held up my hand. Let him see the ring.

His face changed. Hardened.

“You’re marrying him,” he said, low.

“Maybe,” I said. “But that’s not your business either.”

He stepped closer, and I felt something shift. His calm cracked.

“Don’t think this is over, Andrea.”

I didn’t flinch. “It is for me.”

He walked away, just like that. No threat, no scene. Just gone. But something in his eyes told me this wasn’t finished.

Not even close.

 

A Ring, a Question, a Maybe (Andrea’s Point of View)

 I didn’t expect anything that morning.

Anthony had crawled into bed between us sometime before dawn, his cold toes pressed against my thigh. Doc stirred, kissed the top of my head like he always did, and whispered, “Five more minutes,” even though Anthony was already babbling about pancakes and dinosaurs.

It was a normal Friday. Our version of normal, anyway. Cozy, domestic, full of mismatched socks and too many cups of reheated coffee.

I found Doc in the kitchen later, flipping pancakes one-handed while Anthony banged a wooden spoon against a pot like it was a marching drum. And for a second, I just stood there, watching them. Like some scene out of a life I never thought I’d have.

And then I saw the little black box sitting on the counter.

Right there next to the syrup and the fruit.

I froze. Stared at it like it might vanish if I blinked. My stomach flipped and my heart leapt, but also—not in the way it does in the movies. It wasn’t all romance and violins. It was messy. Real. The kind of moment that’s both thrilling and terrifying.

Doc noticed me looking. He didn’t hide it. Didn’t do some big speech or get down on one knee. Just turned off the stove, picked up the box, and walked over to me with Anthony looking curiously from his chair.

“I know this isn’t how you imagined it,” he said, voice steady, eyes soft. “But I also know you don’t need grand gestures. You need truth. And I’ve never been surer of anything in my life.”

He opened the box. A simple gold ring with a small, elegant stone. Classic. Unpretentious. Us.

“I love you, Andy. Not the idea of you. Not the version of you I wish for. You. All your chaos and grief and fight. I love the way you love Anthony. I love how you survive. And I want to be the man who shows up for you every day. Husband. Partner. Father.”

He took a breath. “So... will you marry me?”

I didn’t answer right away.

Because the truth is—part of me wanted to say yes on instinct. On love. On everything we’ve built.

But the part—the part was still bruised and healing—was terrified. Not of Doc. Never of him. But of what it means to promise something forever when you’ve seen how easily forever can fall apart.

I looked at Anthony, his sweet face smeared with jam and thought about the kind of life I wanted for him. The kind of love I wanted him to grow up around.

I turned back to Doc.

“I don’t know if I’m ready,” I whispered. “But I want to be.”

He nodded, completely unfazed. “That’s enough for me.”

I stared at him—this man who had loved me without condition, without pressure. Who stood beside me, even when I kept him in the dark. Who never asked me to be anything other than what I was.

I reached for the ring, slid it on my finger. It fit.

“I’m not saying yes yet,” I said, heart pounding.

“Okay,” he smiled. “But you didn’t say no.”

I smiled back.

“No, Doc,” I said. “I didn’t.”

 

More than blood - Doc's perspective

The house had long since gone quiet. Andrea was asleep, curled up on her side with her hand resting on the empty space I’d left behind. She looked peaceful, but I knew her heart was still racing underneath it all.

That truth she’d shared with me earlier cracked something open. Not in a bad way. Just... something real. A wall she’d built to survive finally came down.

And now it was my turn to hold the space for it.

I slipped out of bed, padded down the hall, and pushed open the nursery door.

Anthony was still awake. Barely. Just blinking sleepily at the ceiling, clutching that ratty little stuffed giraffe he refused to part with. When he saw me, his mouth broke into that big, goofy smile that could melt the core of the Earth.

“Dada,” he whispered, reaching up without hesitation.

I swallowed hard and walked to him, scooping him up and settling into the rocking chair with him in my arms. He rested his cheek against my chest, his thumb slipping into his mouth like he was half baby, half boy.

And I held him there.

“You know,” I murmured softly, “I didn’t help make you. Not the way some dads do.”

He blinked up at me, big eyes reflecting the nightlight’s gentle glow.

“But I chose you. Every day. I woke up and said, ‘That’s my boy.’ Even when you cried all night. Even when you get yogurt in my shoes. Even when you made me read the same book twelve times in a row.”

A little sleepy giggle bubbled out of him, and I smiled through the lump in my throat.

“You’re mine,” I said firmly. “And I’m yours. Forever, okay?”

He reached up and touched my cheek. “Forever?”

“Forever and ever.”

He nestled back into my chest, and I felt his breathing slow. His little heartbeat against mine—soft, steady, and safe.

And just like that, I knew.

It didn’t matter whose blood ran in his veins.
It didn’t matter what kind of chaos came knocking.
He was my son.

And no one—not even Tio—could take that from me.

The hardest truth

It had been a perfect day.

One of those rare Saturdays when everything just worked. Anthony napped without protest, Joe took the afternoon to himself, and Doc and I moved through the house like we were made for it. Cooking, laughing, kissing in the hallway while the stew simmered. I even let him chase me into the backyard, barefoot, just to feel the grass under my feet.

It felt like the kind of happiness you’re supposed to protect.

Which is probably why I knew it couldn’t last—not until I stopped hiding.

The weight of it had been growing. Not just the lie, but the trust it was slowly poisoning. Doc never asked. He never pushed. But I saw it in his eyes sometimes—quiet questions that he kept swallowing for my sake.

I couldn’t let him keep doing that.

So that night, after Anthony was asleep and the dishwasher hummed quietly in the kitchen, I curled up beside Doc on the couch, legs tucked under me, and said, “I need to tell you something. And it might change everything.”

He didn’t move right away, just glanced at me with those warm, steady eyes. “Okay.”

“I should’ve told you sooner. But I didn’t know how. And I was scared—scared you’d look at me differently, scared you’d leave.”

He sat up straighter, giving me his full attention now. No interruptions. Just that stillness of his that always made me feel seen.

I looked down at my hands. “Tio… he’s Anthony’s biological father.”

Silence. Not sharp. Not shocked. Just silence.

“I didn’t know I was pregnant until after I left him. And when I did find out, I didn’t want him anywhere near the baby. I didn’t want Anthony growing up in that shadow. So I told Kay. Only Kay. And I kept it quiet, hoping I could build something better without the past hanging over us.”

Doc took a breath, slow and quiet. “Okay.”

I blinked. “That’s… that’s it?”

His jaw tensed just slightly. “No. It’s not nothing. But it’s also not going to send me running.”

I swallowed hard. “You’re not angry?”

“I’m hurt you didn’t tell me,” he said, honestly. “I won’t lie about that. I’ve been here, Andy. I’ve loved him like my own from day one. And I thought we didn’t have secrets between us anymore.”

“I know. And you’re right. I should’ve told you. But I was so scared you’d stop seeing him as yours.”

His voice cracked a little when he said, “But he is mine.”

I broke then. Tears spilled hot down my cheeks. “You really mean that?”

He nodded. “I was there when he took his first steps. I’m the one he runs to when he scrapes his knee. He calls me ‘Dada,’ Andy. That didn’t happen by accident.”

I covered my mouth with one hand and let the sob out. Ugly, unfiltered grief and guilt mixed with something softer—relief.

Doc reached out, pulled me into his arms. “Thank you for telling me. I know how hard that was.”

“I’m sorry I kept it from you.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured into my hair. “But this—this is something we’ll have to walk through together. No more protecting me from the truth. I want it all, even when it hurts.”

I nodded against his chest.

Because for the first time in a long time… I believed him.

  

 

  

Things that I wasn't meant to read - Andrea's (aka Lee) perspective

 The house smelled like maple syrup and roasted coffee. Anthony was curled up beside Joe on the couch, deeply invested in a cartoon that involved dancing animals and questionable logic. Doc was in the kitchen, flipping pancakes with the kind of relaxed joy I only ever saw on Sunday mornings.

I stood in the doorway for a second, just watching. My chest ached in a strange, soft way.

This—this life we were cobbling together—was never the plan. But it was good. It was warm. And it felt more and more like something worth fighting for.

Doc caught me looking and smiled, spatula in hand. “Your kid just demanded two pancakes shaped like planets. I hope you approve of Saturn.”

I smiled. “Only if it comes with rings made of blueberries.”

“Done.”

I poured myself some coffee and wandered into the study, just to grab a blanket. That’s when I saw it—his leather-bound journal, cracked slightly open on the armrest of the reading chair.

I don’t know what possessed me. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was longing. Maybe it was love, blooming awkward and unsure in my chest like something not fully grown.

I sat. And I read.

---

Entry #143 – Two weeks before she came home

I dreamed about her again.

Not the hospital version, fragile and half-ghost. Not the courtroom drama. Just… her. In my kitchen, holding Anthony like he was an extension of her heartbeat. Laughing. Tired. Alive.

I think I’m in love with her. But it’s not the kind of love that burns hot and reckless. It’s the kind that stays. The kind that waits in quiet rooms and learns lullabies it didn’t grow up with.

I don’t need her to love me back right away. I just need her to know she’s safe. And wanted. And home.

I’d marry her tomorrow if she asked me. I’d raise that boy like he’s my own. But I’d rather live in this limbo forever than make her feel trapped in a life she’s not sure she wants.

I love her enough to let her go, if that’s what it comes to.

But God… I hope it doesn’t come to that.

---

I didn’t realize I was crying until I felt a tear splash onto the page.

The chair creaked, and I looked up to see Doc leaning in the doorway, one hand holding a plate of slightly lopsided pancakes, the other pressed against the wood frame like he was bracing himself.

“You found it,” he said quietly.

“I didn’t mean to pry,” I said, my voice thin.

“I left it there on purpose.”

I blinked. “Why?”

He shrugged, setting the plate down and walking toward me slowly. “Because I didn’t know how else to tell you what I feel without making you feel like you owed me something.”

“I don’t feel like I owe you,” I whispered. “I feel like I’ve already taken too much.”

“You haven’t,” he said gently, kneeling in front of the chair. “You gave me back everything that mattered when you came home. You gave Anthony a mother. You gave me a reason to believe in more than survival.”

I reached out and touched his face, fingers brushing the stubble along his jaw. “You… you really love me.”

He laughed softly. “I know, shocker.”

I laughed too, and it felt good. Like maybe we were making space for joy again.

“I’m not ready to say yes to forever,” I said, “but I think… I think I’m ready to stop running.”

His eyes searched mine. “That’s all I’ve ever asked.”

We kissed slow and quiet, no urgency, just truth. And when we broke apart, I rested my forehead against his and whispered, “Thank you. For waiting.”

“I always will,” he replied. “But for the record… I hope I won’t have to wait too long.”

 

The Quiet Between Her Heartbeats (Doc’s Point of View)

 There’s a rhythm to Andrea that most people miss.

She walks into a room and everyone sees the fire—sharp, brilliant, untouchable. But if you’re patient… if you stay long enough in her silence, you hear it: the ache beneath her ribs, the way her breath sometimes catches on old memories, the way she cradles her son like he’s both miracle and shield.

And God help me, I’m in love with every part of it.

She doesn’t know that I watched her sleep that first night back in my home. Not in a creepy, wide-eyed kind of way—just… studied her. Memorizing her. I’d spent months wondering if I’d ever see her like that again. Peaceful. Home.

Anthony was tucked into the nursery down the hall, and she was curled under my quilt, her body still healing but her spirit already trying to run. I could see it in the way her fingers twitched in sleep, like they were reaching for something just out of reach.

Sometimes I wonder if it’s him—Tio—she dreams about.

And I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t gut me a little.

I know I’m not the storybook man she fell in love with. I didn’t sweep her off her feet. I patched her up. I held her through nightmares. I showed up when the house was burning and stayed to help rebuild.

But I never asked her to love me back.

Not really.

Until recently.

When she came back from seeing Tio, I braced myself for what it might do to her—for the spiral, the shutdown, the quiet distance. But she surprised me. She let me in.

That night in the living room, when she cried into my chest and told me she was scared I knew then that she was giving me more than she’d ever given him.

She was giving me the truth.

And I think that’s what real love is. Not declarations or rings or perfect plans. It’s truth. It’s showing someone your bruises and trusting they won’t turn away.

I’m not naive. I know she still feels tethered to Tio; in a way I’ll never fully understand. He was her first after the storm. The man she wanted to believe in.

But I’m here now. I’m the one who gets Anthony’s sleepy morning kisses. The one who rubs her back when her scars ache. The one who learns her cycles and counts ovulation days not just for the possibility of a baby—but because I know she wants to choose something permanent.

And still… I worry.

Not about raising a child. I’ve been ready for that since the first time Anthony called me Dada when he thought I wasn’t listening. I worry about giving more than I should. About loving a woman who might always have one foot out the door, even if she doesn’t mean to.

But when she looked at me and asked if I’d marry her if she got pregnant, something inside me cracked open.

Not because she was offering.

But because she was thinking about it.

She’s not there yet. I know that. I see it in the hesitation behind her smile. The way her eyes flick to the door sometimes, like she’s still wondering if someone might come through and change everything.

But I’m not afraid of waiting.

I’ll wait as long as it takes.

Because love isn’t a finish line. It’s a choice you make every day.

And I choose her.

Even when she’s unsure. Even when she’s hurting. Even when she’s still a little in love with a man who broke her heart.

I choose her.

And maybe, just maybe… one day, she’ll choose me too.

 

The space between us

The house was quiet after dinner. Anthony was down for the night, curled up with his stuffed sloth and the lullaby playlist I now knew by heart. Joe had gone out to give us space. It was just me and Doc in the living room, the air between us thick with the silence of everything unsaid.

I sat cross-legged on the couch, nursing a cup of chamomile tea, wrapped in one of Doc’s oversized sweaters. He watched me from the other end, one arm draped across the back of the couch, body angled toward mine like he was ready to close the distance—but waiting for permission.

“You saw him today,” he said finally, his voice low, careful.

I nodded. “Yeah.”

He didn’t ask what happened, and I loved him for that. Instead, he just reached out and gently rested his hand over my foot.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t know,” I said honestly, staring down into the swirl of my tea. “But I think I need to.”

He waited, patient as always.

“I thought seeing Tio would make everything make sense. Like I’d finally slam the door on that chapter and walk into this new life with clarity.” I paused, chewing my bottom lip. “But it didn’t feel like closure. It felt like mourning something that never got the chance to live.”

Doc nodded slowly, his fingers gently brushing along my ankle.

“You loved him,” he said softly. “That doesn’t just vanish.”

“It wasn’t just love. It was… chaos, and hope, and fear all tied together. He was the first person who made me believe I could survive the past. But he also became part of what I needed to survive from.”

Doc didn’t flinch. He didn’t try to compete with a ghost. He just leaned forward and said, “I want you to know… I’m not here to replace what you lost. I’m just here to love what’s still here.”

Something in my chest cracked.

Tears spilled without warning. Not loud or dramatic, just steady and quiet, like grief finally making space for something softer.

Doc moved closer. Not in a rush, but with intention. He pulled me gently into his arms, cradling me like I was breakable and resilient all at once.

“I’m scared,” I whispered into his chest.

“Of what?”

“That I can’t give you what you deserve. That I’m still too tangled in the past to fully show up for the future.”

He kissed the top of my head, slowly and tender.

“You don’t have to be ready all at once. You just have to want to be ready. And you’re already doing that.”

“I’m trying,” I said.

“I know,” he murmured. “And I see you.”

We sat like that for a long while. No expectations. No timelines. Just warmth, breath, and the sound of a heart beating under my cheek that had somehow become home.

Eventually, I looked up at him.

“You said you’d marry me whether I’m pregnant or not.”

“I did.”

“Do you mean it?”

“I do,” he said, his eyes steady, his voice like an anchor. “But only if you want to. Not because of a baby. Not because of the past. Because you choose me. Freely.”

That was the part that made me love him. Not just the safety. Not the way he cared for Anthony like he was his own. Not the way he touched me with reverence. But the way he never tried to own me—only wanted to walk beside me.

I leaned in and kissed him slowly, searching, not with lust, but with intention. A promise. Maybe not forever yet, but a maybe. And that was enough.

When we finally pulled apart, he cupped my cheek.

“So… do you think you’ll marry me?”

“Ask me again,” I said with a half-smile, “when I’m not so full of fear.”

“I’ll ask every day if I have to,” he whispered. “Until the fear turns into something else.”

---

Later that night, we lay together in bed, skin to skin under soft sheets. There was no urgency, no trying to make a baby, no roles to play. Just two people trying to love each other the best way they knew how.

He traced circles on my back. “What are you thinking?”

“That maybe this is what healing looks like,” I said, drowsy and honest. “Not big moments. Just… this.”

“Then let’s keep doing this,” he said, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. “One night at a time.”

 

Ghosts with names

It was the smell of leather and rain that pulled me under.

I had been folding Anthony’s laundry, holding a tiny sock in my hand, when the scent hit me unexpectedly and visceral. Tio’s cologne. Or something so close it might as well have been. My knees buckled slightly, and I had to sit on the edge of the bed, sock still clutched in my fist like a lifeline.

I hadn’t smelled that since… the night he left.

Or rather, the night I told him to leave.

I thought I’d burned it all away. The love. The longing. The stupid hope that he would ever choose me—choose us—over the twisted loyalty he had to whatever version of family he believed he was protecting.

But trauma, like perfume, has a way of lingering in the fibers.

---

Kay had been texting me all week, saying I needed to talk to someone. Not Doc. Not her. Not Joe. Someone else. Someone “neutral.” I knew what she meant, and I knew she was right. But I didn’t want a therapist. I didn’t want a sterile room and someone scribbling in a notebook while I tried to explain why I let the father of my child walk away.

I wanted closure.

So, I made a call I swore I never would.

And now, here I was. Sitting in a cold visitor's room with white walls and too many security cameras, waiting for the man who once promised me the stars.

When Tio finally walked in, it was like a mirror cracking down the middle.

He looked older. Tired. But still disarmingly handsome in that way that used to make me forgive everything.

He sat across from me, hands cuffed, chained to the table. His eyes met mine, unsure at first, then softened like they always did. I hated that I still noticed.

“Andy,” he said, like it was a prayer. Or a curse.

“I’m not here for a reunion,” I said flatly, but my voice shook.

“I didn’t think you were.”

We stared at each other, the silence heavy with all the things we’d left unsaid.

“You ruined everything,” I said finally. “I trusted you with our son.”

“I didn’t know,” he said quickly. “You never told me—”

“Because I couldn’t, Tio!” I snapped, my voice echoing off the sterile walls. “Because you were too deep in that world. Because I saw what it did to your father, to your brother. Because I wasn’t going to let Anthony grow up thinking love looked like fear.”

His face crumpled, but he didn’t argue. He let it land.

“I loved you,” he said quietly. “I still do.”

I looked down at the table. There it was. The part that still hurt the most.

“Love without safety isn’t love,” I whispered.

He didn’t reply.

“I came because I needed to say it out loud. I needed to stop pretending I was okay. That I don’t think about you when Anthony does that thing with his smile or when he gets that little crease in his forehead when he’s mad. He’s so much like you. And I hate how much I still want you to be the man I thought you could be.”

Tio’s eyes filled with tears. “I wanted to be him, Andy. For you. For him. But I couldn’t get out in time.”

I nodded slowly. “That’s the thing about timing. It doesn’t wait for you to figure yourself out.”

Silence settled between us again.

“I wrote a letter to the court,” I said, more to the table than to him. “I didn’t testify. But I told them about the good you tried to do. How you kept certain people away from me even when it cost you. How you chose me, it was just too late. They might show leniency.”

He looked at me like I had handed him a miracle.

“I didn’t do it for you,” I said gently. “I did it for Anthony. Someday he’ll ask about you. I want to be able to say something that doesn’t make him feel broken before he even understands what that means.”

Tio nodded slowly. “Will you… ever let me see him?”

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “Maybe. When he’s older. When I’m ready.”

He nodded again, like even a maybe was more than he deserved.

“I’m getting married,” I said suddenly, not even sure why I told him.

His face faltered for a split second. “To the doctor?”

I nodded.

“Do you love him?”

I paused. “I’m trying to. He’s good. He’s safe. He’s the kind of man I want Anthony to grow up looking up to.”

Tio looked down at the table. “Then you’re doing the right thing.”

There was nothing left to say after that.

When I stood, he didn’t ask for a hug. He didn’t beg or plead or try to fix what had been broken too long ago. He just looked up at me and whispered, “Take care of our boy.”

I left the room before I could fall apart.

---

Back at Doc’s house, I found Anthony curled up with Joe, watching a cartoon and babbling about dinosaurs. When he saw me, he jumped up and ran toward me like gravity didn’t exist.

I caught him, held him tight, and breathed him in like air after drowning.

“Hi, Mama!”

“Hi, my heart.”

He cupped my cheeks in his small, sticky hands and gave me a kiss on the nose. I smiled through the sting of salt behind my eyes.

Doc stepped into the room just then, his eyes finding mine. He must’ve seen something different there, because his smile faltered.

“You okay?” he mouthed.

I nodded. I was okay. Maybe for the first time in a long time.

But I also knew this wasn’t over.

Not yet.

 

A cozy afternoon with Doc part two

Doc’s arms around me felt safe—too safe. The kind of safety that tempts you to stop questioning, to let your guard down completely. But even as I leaned into his chest, inhaling the warm, clean scent of him, my mind was running. Not away from him… but toward the truth I hadn’t yet spoken.

I wanted to believe him. That this time would be real. That love could be enough. That the tangled mess inside my heart could somehow, eventually, unravel.

But love wasn’t the issue. It was trust. Not in Doc—he’d proven himself again and again—but in myself. In my ability to choose the right kind of love this time.

I pulled away gently and turned toward the counter, needing something to anchor me. Anthony’s sippy cup sat beside the cutting board. I picked it up, thumbed the little spout, and stared out the kitchen window where the afternoon light had begun to soften.

“Are you okay?” Doc asked behind me, his voice low.

I nodded, not quite trusting my voice.

He stepped closer, not touching me this time. Waiting.

“It’s not you,” I finally said, eyes still fixed on the backyard. “It’s just… everything. I feel like I’m still living in pieces.”

“I don’t need you whole,” he said softly. “Just honest.”

That nearly undid me.

I turned to face him. “I don’t know what this is yet. I don’t know if I can give you the kind of love you’re ready for. I don’t want to lie to you or to myself. I’m still mourning something I never really had.”

Doc nodded slowly, absorbing it without flinching. “You don’t have to rush. I’m not going anywhere.”

And I believed him. That was part of what made it so hard.

He reached out, this time just brushing his knuckles along my arm. “You gave so much of yourself to survive, Andy. Maybe now it’s time to figure out what you want, not just what you need to endure.”

I swallowed hard, tears threatening to spill. “And what if I don’t know the difference?”

“Then we figure it out together.”

Together. It sounded beautiful and terrifying.

Just then, the sound of tiny footsteps pounded through the hall. Anthony burst back into the kitchen, holding one of his stuffed animals triumphantly over his head.

“Mama! Look! Bear got a boo-boo, but I fixed him!”

He ran to me, shoving the plush toy into my hands. There was a Band-Aid wrapped clumsily around its arm. I crouched down to his level, my body wincing but my heart full.

“You’re a good doctor,” I said, brushing his curls back from his forehead.

He beamed. “Like Doc!”

I looked up at Doc, who smiled but didn’t say anything. We shared a look—one filled with unspoken things. Affection. Hesitation. Hope.

Later that evening, after a quiet dinner and bedtime routines that ended with Anthony fast asleep in his nursery, I found myself outside on the back porch, wrapped in one of Doc’s oversized sweaters. The stars were peeking through the inky sky, and the air smelled like pine and something familiar I couldn’t quite name.

Joe stepped out quietly, a cup of tea in his hands. He gave it to me.

“I figured you might need something warm,” he said.

“Thanks,” I said, wrapping my fingers around the mug.

He sat down beside me, not too close, just there.

“You look better,” he said. “Stronger.”

“I’m trying.”

We sat in silence for a while.

“Doc’s a good man,” he finally said.

I turned my head toward him. “I know.”

“But that doesn’t mean it’s simple.”

That surprised me.

Joe glanced at me; his expression unreadable. “People think love is the hard part. But it’s not. It’s what comes after. The reckoning. The choosing every day. The healing.”

I looked down into my tea. “What if I can’t choose yet?”

“Then don’t,” he said. “Not yet. Don’t force yourself into a forever when your heart is still mid-sentence.”

His words settled around me like a blanket. Gentle. True.

“Thanks, Joe,” I whispered.

He gave me a half-smile. “Anytime. You’ve got people, Andy. You’re not alone.”

And for the first time in a long while, I started to believe it.

 

A Cozy Afternoon with Doc part one

Returning to Doc’s place felt like exhaling for the first time in weeks. The quiet, the warmth, the little touches that made his home feel like a haven, it was everything I didn’t know I needed. But most of all, it was being back with Anthony that made my heart settle. Holding him close, hearing his laughter, nursing him back into his rhythm… it felt like reclaiming a part of myself.

We slipped into an easy flow—silly stories, soft lullabies, snuggles that stretched into the afternoon. After a long feed and some persistent burping, Anthony finally surrendered to sleep. I tucked him in gently and followed the soft hum of music and clinking glass into the kitchen.

Doc was there, smiling like he’d been waiting just for me.

“Fancy a mimosa, darling?” he asked, his voice teasing but tender.

“Why not? I’m game,” I said, smiling back.

He wasn’t really a mimosa kind of man, but he poured those golden flutes like it was second nature. He always had a way of creating little pockets of joy, even when everything else felt uncertain. The bubbles were gentle on my healing throat, the drink light and sunny—just like the moment. On the counter, a beautiful charcuterie board waited, filled with rich cheeses, savory meats, and ripe fruit. It was indulgent, generous—just like him.

We sat side by side, shoulders touching, hearts slowly unwinding. Talk drifted to what came next—Tio’s trial, my future, the world we were trying to re-enter. We spoke carefully around Tio’s name; the truth about Anthony’s paternity lived quietly between Kay and me, and I wasn’t ready to share it beyond that. Doc asked if I’d go back to work. I shook my head. Not yet. Not when I’d just gotten my son back. The financial freedom I had was a private gift, one I wasn’t ready to explain.

While I was still in the hospital, recovering, a representative from the prosecutor’s office had come by, asking me to testify. I told them no. Kay was hesitant at first but ultimately decided she would take the stand. Instead, I wrote a letter. A truth-laced, vulnerable letter. It wasn’t a testimony; it was a window into everything I’d lived through—why I kept Anthony away from Tio, how I placed my trust in others when I couldn’t be there myself. It wasn’t easy, but it was honest.

The weight of it all hung between us as our conversation slowed. My heart dipped into those familiar shadows, and Doc noticed—of course, he noticed. He reached out, pulled me gently into his arms, and held me close, like he could keep the past from touching me if he just held on tightly enough.

“What do you need?” he asked, his voice low, steady.

I looked up at him, my hand resting against his chest. “You already know.”

His gaze softened. “How much time do we have?”

“Until tomorrow night.”

He smiled, then kissed my hand. “Let’s go to my room. It’s closer.”

He called out to Joe to keep an eye on the baby monitor, then led me down the hall. Once the door shut behind us, the world narrowed—quiet, safe, sacred. He kissed me like I was something precious. We moved with unspoken understanding, slow and intimate, rediscovering each other without rushing. It wasn’t just about desire, it was about reconnecting, rebuilding.

In that space between heartbeats and whispered names, something old and something new began to entwine. We weren’t just touching skin, we were touching history, pain, healing, and hope.

When I tried to shift us, he stilled me.

“No, baby,” he whispered. “Tonight is about you.”

“But—” I started to protest, lost in the sensation.

“No buts,” he murmured, brushing hair from my face. “Just let go.”

And I did.

Afterward, wrapped in each other, we held on—his arms around me, my legs still tangled with his. There was a quiet that followed, a stillness that felt both peaceful and charged.

“We shouldn’t have,” I whispered. “But I don’t regret it.”

Doc’s voice was soft against my ear. “It’s done. And if it means a future with you, then I’m all in.”

“Do you love me?” I asked, surprised at how shaky my voice sounded.

“I do,” he said without hesitation.

“Enough to marry me if I’m pregnant?”

“Enough to marry you either way,” he replied, pressing a kiss to my collarbone. “But yes… I hope we are.”

A complicated warmth bloomed in my chest—part love, part fear, part something in between.

“We still have time before Anthony wakes up,” I whispered.

“Then come back to bed,” he said, smiling as he brushed his lips over mine. “But soon, he’ll need to be weaned.”

“Only when he’s ready,” I replied softly.

Doc didn’t push. He just nodded, understanding. We spent the next few hours in each other’s arms, sometimes tangled in sheets, sometimes in quiet conversation. When we were finally still, I lay with my hips slightly elevated, more out of habit than anything else. It wasn’t about the future anymore, it was about the present, the now.

Eventually, I slipped out of bed, showered, and got dressed. Doc was still asleep. As soon as I reached the bottom step, I heard the small, excited feet of my son.

“Mama! Mama! I missed you!” Anthony squealed as he ran into my arms. “Uncle Joe and I played games!”

“Hey, sweetie. I missed you too,” I said, scooping him up carefully despite the pain that still flared where I’d been shot. “What kind of games?”

Anthony launched into a babbling monologue, full of joy only toddlers can pull off. We headed to the kitchen for snacks, where Joe greeted me. Things were a little awkward—understandably—but I gave him a hug and thanked him for watching Anthony.

“Where’s Dada?” Anthony asked suddenly.

“Who?” I blinked.

“Dada! The old guy!”

I glanced at Joe, who looked sheepish. “Sorry, Andrea. I tried to explain he’s just a friend…”

“It’s okay, Joe,” I said quietly. “He’ll be down soon. He’s just tired.”

Anthony ran off, and Joe gave me a knowing look. I shrugged, then told him—maybe for my own benefit—that Doc and I were planning to get married if I was pregnant.

Doc’s voice came from behind me, warm and certain. “Oh, we’ll marry either way. This time, it’s real.”

He wrapped his arms around me, and I leaned into him… but something in me hesitated. I loved him—his kindness, his steadiness, the way he showed up when I needed it most. But I wasn’t sure if it was the kind of love that builds forever. I was still nursing the ache of Tio’s betrayal, still healing parts of my heart I hadn’t even named yet.

I wanted to believe in new beginnings. I just wasn’t sure I was ready for one yet.

Tio's betrayal and my rescue

When I woke up, pain consumed me. My throat burned, and instinctively, I reached for my neck—only to realize I couldn’t move. Panic set in as I discovered I was restrained. I hated being restrained. My heart pounded, and the machines around me erupted into frantic beeping.

The noise jolted Doc awake. His eyes widened before he bolted into the hallway, shouting for help. Within seconds, doctors and nurses flooded the room.

A sharp prick in my IV. A rush of drowsiness. My body grew heavy, my vision hazy. Then came a sharp, tearing pain as the breathing tube slid from my throat.

"You were shot," Doc said, his voice tight. "Tio tried to kill you."

Shock rippled through me. Why? I mouthed, my throat too raw for sound.

"You wouldn’t tell him where your brother and Kay were hiding Anthony," Doc explained. "He was going to take Anthony, but he’s in prison now."

"How long?" I mouthed again.

"Twenty years," he answered. "Anthony has been here every day. He remembers you—he pats your face and says, 'Love. Mama.' Your brother still has him."

I swallowed past the pain. "The Powers That Be?"

"They went to Kay’s office to warn her about Tio, but they were too late," Doc said. "She’s fine. Security arrested him, and he won’t be getting out anytime soon."

A shaky sigh left me. Relief. Weak, but real. 

I was relieved to have Doc with me, and I fell asleep holding his hand. Knowing he would stay by my side through the next few days gave me a sense of peace, and I slept soundly without dreams.

When I woke the next morning, I was comforted to find Doc still there, squeezed onto the hospital bed beside me. I nudged him awake as the surgeon who had operated on me entered the room.

“Good morning, ma’am,” the doctor greeted me. “I don’t have a name for you other than Jane Doe. How are you feeling this morning?”

“Tired and thirsty,” I whispered hoarsely. “When can I leave?”

“Ms. Doe, you’ll need to stay a few more days. You lost nearly three-quarters of your blood and are extremely weak. We had to give you multiple transfusions during surgery.”

“I want to leave tomorrow. I own this hospital.”

The doctor remained unfazed. “I’m treating you like any other patient, regardless of hospital ownership. Even Doc agrees—you’ll be here for at least two more nights.”

“Promise?” I asked, sighing. “I don’t sleep much, and I hate being bored.”

“We’ll find something to keep you occupied tomorrow. But for today, your only job is to rest and stay hydrated.”

“Like what? The books here are children’s play, there’s nothing educational on TV. I need to see my son…I will not tolerate him being exposed to the strain of germs, bacteria and viruses that are in the hospital.”

“There’s a lot that needs to be reorganized in the hospital and its departments. The lounges are a mess and not properly stocked, department leadership is lacking, and we need better staff.”

“Put together a list of department heads you want me to review, along with the lounges that need attention and the supplies they’re missing. I’ll handle it.”

“When do you need the list?”

“After your rounds, charting, and everything else.”

“You’re my last patient for rounds, so once I’m done charting, I’ll pull everything together. Maybe an hour or so?”

“That works,” I said.

After the doctor left, Doc helped me up so I could undress, slip on my sandals, and take a shower. Once I was clean, I put on some of my own clothes, though I had to settle for a hospital gown with shoulder snaps since the IVs in both arms made wearing a regular shirt impossible.

Shortly after, breakfast arrived, but it looked far from appetizing. Fortunately, Doc ate it instead, and just a few minutes later, Kay showed up with food from home. She knew how much I hated hospital meals and that I’d be starving. Unfortunately, everything she brought was soft food. Doc must have told her my throat was sore from the intubation tube and that even swallowing water was painful. Being the wonderful friend she is, Kay brought yogurt, pudding, Jell-O, and Nutella. I was beyond grateful.

Two hours later, the doctor returned with an armful of pens, highlighters, notepads, and a few lists for me to review. We sat down to brainstorm, reworking the hospital’s staffing structure and calling in department heads. It wasn’t a smooth process, but with input from Doc and my surgeon, we updated policies, procedures, and even reassigned leadership roles where necessary.

We also touched on department budgets, though I was fading fast and needed to rest. At that point, the responsibility shifted to Doc and the other hospital administrators. I knew it wouldn’t be fair to the hospital, the staff, the volunteers, or the patients for me to make all the decisions alone.

I slept for several hours, and when I woke up, a few unfamiliar nurses were adjusting my IV bags. I immediately told them to step back and asked for the charge nurse.

A few minutes later, the charge nurse arrived and asked what the issue was. I explained that I only wanted nurses I knew and trusted handling my care and that I had no idea who these nurses were. Once the charge nurse realized who I was, she completely understood and agreed, promptly banning those nurses from my room.

After they left, she excused herself to grab some paper and a pen. When she returned, she asked me to provide a list of staff members I trusted. It was a short list, but with those names in hand, she granted them primary access to my chart and then instructed IT to restrict the rest of the hospital from viewing my records. One notable person excluded from access was Doc—I didn’t want to explain any past, present, or future procedures to him.

Later, I ate more of the food Kay had brought. My brother stopped by for a visit, Doc checked in between patients, and Kay called a few times to see how I was doing. I was glad to get some work done, even if the doctor had only created something to keep me occupied—it was still necessary work.

When Doc finished his shift, he ran home to shower, change, packed a bag, and then came straight back to the hospital. We arranged for an extra hospital bed to be brought into the room so we could both sleep more comfortably.

Boats, custody and Tio

 We kept going until the boat ran out of fuel. When we reached shore, I handed my brother the paperwork and told him he had temporary custody of Anthony. I’d explained it to Anthony days ago—he understood some of it.

“I trust only you and Kay with him,” I said. “Talk to her—she’s already set things up for you. She’s waiting up the way.”

My brother nodded. He and Anthony hugged me before they left. I told them I was waiting for someone, and I was.

Tío had been waiting at the landing site for days. Once the coast was clear, he climbed onto the boat and found me asleep on the bed. He nudged me to wake me up.

"What the actual fuck?" I asked. "Didn't anyone tell you to knock before entering? Weren't you supposed to get paperwork that prevents you from being near me?"

Tío smirked, unbothered.

“Didn’t get the memo,” he said, stepping further inside. “Besides, I figured you’d be expecting me.”

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, sitting up. “Expecting you? No. Expecting some peace and quiet? Maybe.”

He chuckled, leaning against the doorway.  “You always did have a mouth on you.”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “And you always had a habit of showing up when I least wanted you to.”

Tío shrugged. “What can I say? Some things never change. Kay can't keep an eye on you when she's already watching your brother and Anthony. She sticks close to the office and home.”

“And you know this how?” I asked.

“I’ve been trying to get her to talk to me in person, but she keeps telling me to book an appointment through her secretary. I know she’s been busy with you,” he said. “She was my attorney!”

“She pretended to be your attorney so she could help you,” I shot back. “Do you even realize how many laws she broke just to keep both of us alive? A lot. She had a whole ethical crisis because you just had to drag her into your mess.”

"What happens if someone finds out she represented both of us—even if one of us was presumed dead?"

"She’d be suspended. And if they found out she benefited from representing both clients, she’d be permanently disbarred. She wouldn’t be allowed to practice law again in the country. No law office would touch someone with a record like that."

"I'll leave her be then," he said. "And I’ll stay away from you too—most people think you’re dead anyway."

"Thanks," I said. Then, after a beat, "You know, I really did love you, Tío."

He shrugged. "I still love you, Lee. I know that's not your real name, but it's the name I know you by—the person I love." He paused, his expression unreadable. "Take care of yourself."

I nodded as he left, waiting until he was out of sight before finally getting out of bed. Gathering the few clothes I had, I tossed them into the boat’s sink, rinsing away the layers of dirt, grime, and sweat. The process felt endless—the water darkened with filth each time I wrung them out.

Luckily, I’d found some biodegradable, reef-safe soap, which made washing them easier. As they hung to dry, I grabbed the soap and waded into the water to bathe.

The cool water against my skin was pure relief. After weeks on the road, I must have reeked, but for the first time in a long while, I finally felt clean.

I climbed aboard, used what little deodorant that I had, brushed my hair and teeth. I was just waiting on my clothes to dry. While waiting for my clothes to dry, I decided to explore the boat a little bit. I found some paper and a pen. Figured that I'd write a letter to the owners and apologize.

"To Whom It May Concern,

My sincerest apologies for taking your boat without permission. I understand that without your consent, it is considered theft. Before involving the authorities, please know that I was running for my life—and for my son’s. He’s just over a year old.

To keep it brief, I believed I was working for the right side of the government, but I wasn’t. I imprisoned the wrong people and protected those who should have been behind bars. Three people helped me escape that splinter group, and together, we brought them down.

Since then, I’ve lied, faked a marriage, staged my own death multiple times, and even altered my handwriting—all to protect myself and my son. Now, I’m turning to some of the very people I once imprisoned, asking for their help. Many refuse, and I don’t blame them. But a few are willing.

Attached to this note is the business card of my attorney. If you’ve found your boat, please contact her. I left her funds to cover the cost of any damages, as well as fuel for the vehicles I used. She knows who I am, but please don’t ask her any questions—she is legally bound not to disclose my identity or that of those assisting me.

I know that my circumstances don’t justify taking what isn’t mine, and I don’t expect forgiveness. But I hope you can understand why I did it.

My deepest apologies."

I checked on my clothes—finally, they were dry. I put on the least-worn set and packed the rest. Before leaving, I did a final sweep of the boat, making sure I had everything I’d brought with me. Satisfied that nothing was left behind, I set off on the next leg of my journey.

I knew my brother, Anthony, Kay, and I would find each other again—we always did. But for now, my priority was finding safety for the night. Donny, Alessia, and their child had disappeared, and I tried to avoid relying on the same people more than once. Brief assistance was safer than repeated favors.

Not long into my trek, I entered a small town. A sign at the entrance read Population: 3,000. That meant my stay here would be short.

As I moved closer to the town center, more shops, restaurants, and homes lined the streets. I passed by a restaurant where the owner was on his phone. The moment his eyes landed on me, something flashed across his face—recognition. And not the good kind.

He hung up quickly.

“HEY!” he shouted. “Hey, stranger!”

I picked up my pace, hoping to avoid unwanted attention, but he was faster. Within seconds, he caught up to me.

"Lee? I knew that was you," he said.

I sighed. "I was halfway through town, hoping to get through the rest without drawing attention. Thanks for ruining that. Now, every nearby town is going to hear that a stranger passed through, and guess who they'll be watching for?" I whispered sharply.

He smirked. “Stranger was your code name.” He placed a firm hand on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

I tensed. “Let go of me,” I hissed. “If I scream or make a sudden move, this whole town will be on us—and they’ll take your side. My son’s life is in danger. I’m trying to protect him.”

His expression shifted slightly. “Where is your son?”

"He’s safe," I repeated. "Look, I know we don’t trust each other, but if you let me pass through quietly, no one will know you’re here. And no one will know I saw you."

"Fine," he said. "But come inside first. I'll feed you, let you rest, and when you head out, I'll pack some non-perishable food for you. I’ll throw in plenty of water, electrolyte powder, and some filters for fresh water. I know we don’t trust each other, but I get it—keeping your family safe comes first. Three years ago, I faked my own death."

I narrowed my eyes. "Prove it."

"What?"

"Show me your obituary. It should still be online. I’m not going anywhere with you until you do," I said. "And when you show me, you’ll loudly give me directions to some other place—somewhere we both know I won’t actually go."

"Sorry, ma’am," he said loudly, making sure the small crowd nearby could hear as he scrolled through his phone, searching for his obituary. "I thought you were someone I knew. After you eat, you’ll keep going just like before I stopped you. Head north at the end of town, and keep going until you reach a small dock. One of the boaters will take you to your next destination. See how the town looks on this map?"

He handed me his phone as I scanned through the obituary. I double-checked with other newspapers, making sure the story held up. Eventually, I was satisfied. It was enough to trust him—at least enough to accept a meal and supplies.

I returned his phone and followed him into the restaurant. As I stepped inside, I glanced over my shoulder. The small crowd had grown, more curious eyes watching us than before.

"Just grab whatever nonperishable food you can for me," I murmured. "And if there’s a back door, I’ll leave through it a few hours before dawn."

"I'll feed you a real meal first, ok?" he said.

I sat on a stool at the counter, keeping my bag on the stool beside me—close enough to grab if I needed to run. As I drank water, I watched him carefully, studying every movement as he prepared my meal. He served me a massive plate of pasta with meatballs and sausage in marinara sauce—enough for three people. But hunger made quick work of it. I ate everything.

When I finished, I noticed the disposable plate, utensils, and paper cup he’d given me. It wasn’t just convenience—it was a way to ensure I left no trace of DNA behind. Smart.

I asked where the bathroom was, and he gestured upstairs to his living quarters. My expression must have given me away because he quickly offered the staff restroom instead. I nodded, grabbing my bag and placing the disposable items in a plastic bag before heading off.

When I returned to the counter, he was gone. In his place was a neatly stacked pile of supplies—nonperishable food, three four-liter bottles of water, several empty three-liter bottles, packets of electrolyte mix, and multiple travel water filters used by hikers. I packed everything into my bag, then found a hidden corner in the back of the restaurant where I could wait until it was safe to leave.

There, I spotted a cot with a blanket. Resting on top was a note:

"I closed the restaurant and left town. There’s a key under your pillow—use it to lock up when you leave. I assume you still have the same lawyer, so I transferred the restaurant’s ownership to her. In six months, it will belong to you, your son, and any future children. By then, the townspeople will have forced me out, and they’ll have moved on, too.

There’s something strange about this town—no resident stays more than six years, and business owners last ten at most. But I’ve only made it four. Someone here knew who I was.

Thank you for getting me out."

I fell asleep quickly after checking to make sure that the doors were locked. I heard noise at the front door so I dressed, grabbed my bag and as I was heading to the back door, I headed back to the cot so I could grab the pillow and blanket for future uses. This time, I hope, I wasn't stealing. I left and locked the door behind me.

I retraced my steps through town, then walked fifteen miles west before turning south, keeping parallel to the strange town I had left behind. Along the way, I stumbled upon a patch of geysers—an unexpected blessing on what turned out to be the coldest night since Anthony and I first went on the run.

Eventually, I found a small hut with a hole in the roof, likely designed to vent smoke. If I lit a fire, it wouldn’t draw suspicion. Settling in, I burned the disposable plate, utensils, and paper cup to erase any trace of my presence.

At sunrise, I packed up and continued my journey. In the next town, I stopped at a gas station and purchased a few prepaid phones. The cashier eyed me strangely before commenting, “You never know when you’ll have cash again—at least this way, you can call a shelter if you need to.”

Little did they know, I wasn’t truly homeless.

From there, I found a quiet corner in the library to charge the phones. Once they were ready, I left. Three hours later, I finally made the call.

“Hi, Kay,” I said.

“Where the hell have you been?” she nearly screeched. “We’ve been looking for you forever!”

"I just saw my brother a few weeks ago!"

"No, you didn’t," she sighed. "That was three months ago. Your brother and I lost track of you until some guy you helped gave us a clue. By the time we got there, the whole town was packing up and moving out."

"Three months? Has it really been that long? How’s Anthony? Is he okay? Healthy?"

"Yes, my friend, it has," she said gently. "Anthony is fine—completely healthy. I took him to my niece’s pediatrician for a full check-up. The doctor was a little concerned because he was three pounds underweight, but I explained everything—losing his mother, the stress, the constant change. He’s doing much better now."

"I’m so relieved. Has he gained the weight back?"

"Yes, and then some!"

"That’s good to hear. This phone’s about to die—the battery’s old. I have another one I’ll call you on since I don’t know when I’ll get a chance to charge this one again."

"Sounds good. When will we see you?"

"As soon as I figure out where I am when I reach the next town, I’ll find the fastest—but safest—way to get to you."

"Ok. Be careful, my friend!"

"I will. Thank you for helping my brother take care of son."

The phone died shortly after I hung up.

It took me three days to reach a town. Thankfully, I didn’t get the same kind of "welcome" I had when I ran into that restaurant owner.

Along the way, I found a stream where I could clean up, wash my clothes, and change into the most threadbare outfit I had left—so worn that one wrong move and it would fall apart. After rinsing out my dirty clothes, I draped them over sunlit branches to dry and took the opportunity to rest while I waited.

"Excuse me? Are these your clothes?" a man’s voice startled me.

"Yes, they are," I replied, sitting up. "I’m sorry. I’m just passing through. My clothes should be dry now—I’ll gather them and move along."

"Not an issue," he said, stepping closer. "I recognized you. You helped get me out of prison. You never gave me your name."

I tensed, choosing my words carefully. "Did I? I haven’t done that kind of work in a long time."

"It was three years ago," he insisted. "Someone was trying to kidnap you—"

"I’m sorry, but I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else," I interrupted, keeping my tone gentle. "People say I have one of those faces." I forced a small smile. "I don’t recognize you, sir, but I should get my things and be on my way."

He studied me for a moment before nodding. "Alright."

I quickly gathered my things and left town, determined to reunite with Kay, my brother, and Anthony. Based on the distance, it would take me five to seven days on foot to reach my son. With help, I could make it in three to five. Crossing my fingers, I silently sent up prayers to every deity I could think of, pleading for a way to get there faster.

For two days, I walked tirelessly, covering over forty kilometers when a car pulled over. A woman stepped out, turning off the engine before approaching me.

"Excuse me, miss?" she called.

I eyed her warily. "How can I help you? I'm just trying to get to what's left of my family. I've spent the last three months making my way to them and the last few days walking nonstop."

"I’d like to give you a ride, as far as I can," she offered.

Relief flooded me. "That would be amazing, but fair warning—I haven’t bathed in days."

She smiled. "We’ll drive with the windows up until we find a place for you to shower."

For the next four hours, she drove while I slept in the backseat, using my bag as a pillow. When she stopped, she gently woke me, explaining that she had booked two hotel rooms. Grateful beyond words, I thanked her profusely.

After checking in, I immediately took a long, hot shower, scrubbing away the dirt and exhaustion of the past days. Then, I started washing my clothes in the bathtub. A knock on the door interrupted me. When I opened it, the woman stood there holding a small care bag.

"I figured you could use these," she said, handing it to me. Inside were soap, shampoo, vitamins, food bars, hand sanitizer, and packets of single-use laundry detergent.

"Thank you," I said, touched by her kindness.

She asked if I needed any help, but I assured her I was just going to rewash my clothes properly with the detergent and hang them to dry before getting some much-needed rest. She smiled. 

"No worries about housekeeping. They won’t come until we check out tomorrow." 

Then she left, and I locked the door behind her.

Letting my clothes soak, I headed to the nearest fast-food restaurant, ordering more food than I should have. I ate everything there before returning to my room. After draining the tub, I rinsed both the clothes and the tub, then refilled it with hot water and detergent for a second wash. This time, I scrubbed each item thoroughly before hanging them up in the open closet to dry.

Exhausted, I collapsed onto the bed and slept for twelve straight hours. When I woke, I dressed, packed my bag, and swept the room to make sure I hadn’t left anything behind. Satisfied, I took one last deep breath and prepared to move on. I left the room and knocked on her door but she didn't answer so I waited and knocked again. Still no answer so I went downstairs to reception.

I asked about the woman who rented the rooms we used. I was told that she was at the restaurant next door but hadn't checked out yet. I thanked the staff and then asked which way to get to the main roads. I thanked them again and headed on my way. 

Technically, I was four hours ahead of schedule but because I slept for so long, I was still on schedule. Ugh, it was going to take forever to get to my son but at least I slept. 

I walked eighteen hours that day. Thanks to that exhausting day, I was only six hours ahead. I found a quiet place in the woods and slept until dawn then got moving again. I decided that I'd walk longer days so I could make an attempt to get there faster.

A few times, a few people drove me as far as they could. I took that time to catch up on my much needed sleep. Before letting me go, they fed me and made sure that I had a small care bag. 

My last night, I was at a homeless shelter and had a room with another woman. We didn't talk much as we didn't have anything in common. The only time that we really talked is why I had so many cell phones and asked if I was selling anything illegal. I said that I wasn't selling anything illegal however, I use a phone until I run out of minutes but keep the phones in case I can get the money to purchase more minutes. Little did she know that I wasn't homeless and that I had money. I was trying to keep my profile low. She said that it made sense.

Once the phones were charged, I locked my stuff up in a locker and went to bed. 

In the morning, I gathered my things and signed out of the shelter. As I got closer to Kay’s office—just fifteen minutes away—I called her.

"Take as many detours as you can," she warned. "Head straight to the hospital—you know, the one you own, where Doc works."

Confused, I asked why.

"Vin, Vic, and C are in the elevator on their way up to my office right now," she said urgently.

Apparently, they had called her an hour ago, demanding to meet and question her about me. The moment she got off the phone with them, she had alerted security, explaining the situation. Security assured her they’d be in her office by the time the men arrived.

I barely had time to process her words before everything went black.

I had just stepped into my old office at the hospital when a sharp, searing pain tore through me. I collapsed, unconscious.

I drifted in and out, catching only brief flashes of what was happening. Tío stood over me, a gun in his hand. Doc's white lab coat was soaked in blood—my blood. His voice was frantic, pleading.

“Stay with me. Stay alive.”

"Doc?" I gasped.

"Yes, Lee?" he asked.

"I love you," I said.

"I love you too, Lee," he said. "Stay with me. I need you, darling."

I passed out.

Protecting family secrets

I was done with the constant shifting of my identity, worn out from hiding at every turn. This wasn’t the life I wanted for Anthony. He didn’t deserve this. The hardest part, though, was that my brother believed both Anthony and I were dead. But I couldn’t bring myself to tell him the truth. The first time I came back from the dead, he had a heart attack and was hospitalized. After that, I had Kay break the news gently that I was alive, but that my dangerous line of work had put me in constant peril.

Since then, I’d been sending him cryptic clues—pictures of the shoes he gave me when I was six, with subtle hints about my whereabouts. He knew he had ninety-six hours to find me, and every time, he came through without fail. But I wasn’t sure if I could ever tell him the full truth.

"Kay, make sure Tio knows he can NEVER tell my brother I’m alive. He can know, but he can’t say anything. You remember what happened the last time he found out. After the latest scare, I don’t think he could handle knowing Anthony and I are both alive. He can’t know. I don’t know how many more ‘funerals’ he can attend, and if he finds out, it puts him in danger, too. I may never see him again, and if I do, he might be too old or I’ll only see him at his funeral. With my luck, he might really have to attend my real funeral. Please, keep an eye on him," I texted Kay.

Kay’s reply was quick: “He knows. After the hearing and the mandatory change of his therapist, we sat down and talked about the letter—which, by the way, you should’ve sent to me first! I told him that under no circumstances should he contact your brother and tell him you’re alive. He knows he could face legal trouble, and the government is already investigating him. Before I left, I reminded him that he can reach out to your brother to send his sympathies, but that’s it!”

I felt a wave of relief. Kay had taken care of the crucial details. Unfortunately, this was just one of many hurdles I would face until I could find a safe place for Anthony and me to stay out of sight. I’d burned my bridges with both the real government and its splintered version. I couldn’t rely on them for help anymore. If I hadn’t burned those bridges, they would know exactly where to find me. So now, I had to turn to the criminals and the underworld that I’d spent my life fighting against.

Getting help from people I had sent to prison, people who now lived in hiding, was difficult. The ones who were released didn’t want to risk their freedom helping me, but when they saw I had Anthony with me, their attitude softened. Still, the help didn’t come easily. One person pointed me to the next, but none of them wanted to house Anthony and me for long. They didn’t want to look over their shoulders any longer than they had to—and I couldn’t blame them. To get their help, I had to return the favor.

Fortunately, most of what I could offer were things like baking, cooking, cleaning, and laundry. The more I did for them, the more they were willing to do for me. A few times, when the people helping me were low on funds after getting me the help I needed, I was able to give them untraceable cash in various currencies.

At one point, I found myself in a desperate situation. Anthony was in a baby carrier on my chest, and I had a heavy backpack strapped to my back. We were stranded in a dangerous area, with no tools to protect ourselves. My untraceable phone was dead—if it had been charged, I still wouldn’t have had service—and the only satellite phone I had was broken by a large animal. I couldn’t use my flare guns because I didn’t want to risk being found. As I was about to break down in tears, Anthony woke up, hungry. But I had run out of food, and my milk supply was dry. He cried in frustration.

The only thing I had left was electrolyte powder and half a bottle of water. I mixed a tiny bit of powder into the water and handed it to him. He drank it quickly, then tried to latch again.

“Where can I find a razor blade?” a familiar, raspy voice whispered.

“Take a turn at Neptune,” I said cautiously.

“It’s for a friend of a friend in need. She has a package weighing now twenty-one standard units,” the whisper responded.

“What’s your star sign?” I asked, grasping at any thread of familiarity.

“Aquarius, with moon rising and mercury in retrograde,” the voice replied.

A wave of relief washed over me.

“Come with me, Andrea,” the voice said. “It’s Donatello.”

“Holy shit, Donny! How did I not recognize your voice?” I gasped. “I’m so sorry I got you thrown in prison.”

“Andy, it’s alright, really,” he said. “Take my hand. I’ll get you and your baby someplace safe. I’ve got a kid of my own, and I have food your baby can eat.”

“I could hug you right now, but I don’t want to wake this kid up,” I said, taking his hand.

We walked for about fifteen minutes before we arrived at his home. It was the smallest house in the neighborhood, but Donny had made it look like a farming home to keep up appearances. I asked if his mistress knew I was coming, and he told me that she had spotted a tuft of my hair in the wind about thirty minutes before he found me and sent him out to track me down.

When we reached his door, Donny reminded me to take off my shoes but carry them inside, then burn them. I met his mistress, who fed both Anthony and me while Donny did his best to cover his tracks. I told him to stay inside, but he insisted on going out. I had a bad feeling, but he didn’t share my concern.

Hours later, after we were well-fed and hydrated, I heard scraping at the door. I knew something had gone wrong. I asked his wife to take the kids and hide, then grabbed the old rifle from above the kitchen sink. I opened the door to find Donny standing there, with a knife at his neck.

“No need to knock on your own front door, Donny,” I said, not acknowledging the man holding the knife. “Come on in. Don’t forget to take your shoes off. What would you like to drink, uncle?”

The armed stranger looked at me. “You’re his niece?”

“His family and mine have been friends for six or seven generations. It’s customary in his family to greet male elders as ‘uncle’ to show respect. Donatello is six years older than me,” I said, exaggerating a bit. “I also wanted our children to meet.”

"Alessia, could you please take the kids to the backyard?" I asked Donny’s mistress.

She nodded and led them outside. Once they were safely out of view, I turned my attention to Tomas, Ian Marlowe’s fraternal twin. I had no doubt he was armed—if he was anything like his brother. Donny wasn’t, but I didn’t trust the old gun in my hand to do what it needed to without risking my friend’s life.

“Tomas,” I said softly, approaching him with caution. “You’re here for me, not Donny.”

Slowly, I placed the gun on the ground, keeping my movements deliberate.

“Who are you?” Tomas growled, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “How do you know my brother?”

“I am The Legioness,” I purred, a cold smile curling at my lips. “I’ve been many things—Andrea, Dory, Tanya, Mary, Leeandria... you may know me as Astrid, Lilith, Raven, or Ursula.”

He froze.

 “She Devil!” Tomas yelped. “You’re the She Devil!”

“That I am," I said with a sly grin. "Now let Donatello go.”

I moved closer, my hand wrapping around his throat, feeling the anger rise. My vision tinted red. “You better do it soon, Tomas.”

“I’ve spent years looking for you… but now I know who you are!” Tomas choked out, struggling to breathe. “Let me go!”

“I’m not even choking you, you fool,” I hissed as my horns shot out from under my party hat—my favorite little trick. “Tell me, Tomas... Who am I?”

He squirmed, face pale. “You’re the devil incarnate who killed my brother!”

I gave a dark chuckle.

“That would be Alessia, not me,” I said, winking at Donny. “I’m the one who put your brother in prison.”

With that, Tomas released Donny, and the tension between us dissolved. Donny knew what was coming next. He and Alessia needed to take the kids and disappear—his priority was keeping them safe, especially my son. As much as I hated it, I cared more about Anthony’s safety than my own.

When Donny pulled me into a grateful hug, thanking me for saving his life, he asked where he should take everyone.

 “Find my brother. Text him a picture of where you are. He’ll come find you,” I whispered softly in his ear.

We pulled apart, and I quickly reminded him of the ballet shoes I had tucked in my bag for his daughter; they were really the shoes that my brother had given me years ago.

“Tell everyone to wear blue, so they blend in with the water.”

Tomas looked confused, but Donny understood immediately. He grabbed the ballet shoes from my bag and the baby wrap I had brought along, intended for Alessia to carry my son. Donny knew exactly which lake I meant—Tomas may have been unfamiliar, thinking of lakes still iced over, but Donny knew the one I meant.

It was time for everyone to disappear.

Before I could back up to my bag, Tomas leapt up from the floor from where he landed when I let go of his neck. We fell when he collided with me. As we struggled to try to get control, I reached into my boot to grab my taser. I truly hoped it still had a charge as I had to use it a few times prior to Donny finding Anthony and I. It took a few seconds to warm up but it worked when I pressed it against Tomas’s back and pressed the button. He convulsed for a few seconds before I released the button.

“Ugh!” Tomas groaned, disoriented. “What happened?”

“I tased you, Tomas,” I replied coolly, securing him with handcuffs to the banister of the stairs.

I quickly made my way to the backyard where Alessia had left her phone. Grabbing it, I typed out a message to Kay:

“I’m okay. Send someone to Donatello and Alessia’s. I need a 30-minute head start to pack my things and wipe down everything I’ve touched.”

“I’m giving you twenty minutes. Move fast!”

I double-checked that I had everything I’d brought with me. Now, I just had to find the lake where Donny and Alessia had taken Anthony and their child. I’d heard rumors about it, but I wasn’t sure if it was real. Asking around would only give away my location to the people who had tried to kill my ex-husband and me.

A text from Kay came through:
“This is your eighteen-minute warning. You need to leave, NOW!”

I wasn’t finished yet, but I had no choice but to go. I could hear people moving around both the front and back doors. I vaguely remembered that whatever house Donny lived in, he’d installed an escape hatch on the roof.

I sprinted upstairs, found the hatch, and opened it. I tossed my bag onto the roof and quickly used the rope ladder to climb up. Once on the roof, I pulled the ladder up and closed the hatch behind me. I jumped from the roof onto the neighbor’s house, using their rain spout to climb down.

Alessia’s phone pinged in my hand with a new message.

“Follow the street for three miles, turn right at the foot of the hill, and you’ll find your brother and your son. We love you!”

I followed the directions carefully, and at a small coffee shop, there they were—my brother and my son. I pulled them both into a tight hug before leading them down a hidden valley. At the end of it was the lake—still unfrozen, just as I had hoped. We found a boat waiting.

It had been a while since I had captained one, but I could handle it.

As we set off, my brother finally spoke. “I always knew you were alive. Every time you faked your death, Kay would send me clues, little hints that you were still out there.”