All that's left of the storm

The hospital room, with its low, steady hum and antiseptic air, felt less like a place of healing and more like a necessary purgatory. The adrenaline that had carried us through the past twenty-four hours was now a fading echo, replaced by a profound and bone-deep exhaustion. We were two islands in a sea of sterile efficiency, our gurneys positioned side by side, a silent testament to a shared ordeal.

Vince arrived, his face a roadmap of a long night spent in the waiting room’s impersonal family waiting area. "I'm heading home," he said, his voice a low rasp, raw with fatigue. "I need some sleep."

He gave me a hug and shook Matteo’s hand. Without a word, he retrieved my car keys from his pocket and placed them in my hand then retrieved his motorcycle keys from my purse. "I'll be taking my motorcycle so your car is here when you get out. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

Matteo’s gratitude was a quiet weight in the air. "Thank you for everything, Vince. We couldn't have managed without you."

Vince offered a rare but genuine smile. "That's what friends are for." With a final wave, he was gone, leaving us to the quiet stillness. I surrendered to the call of sleep, a long-overdue mercy.

I was pulled back to consciousness by the low murmur of voices. Kay and Tara stood at the foot of my gurney, their faces a soft blend of relief and concern. The faint lines of worry around their eyes spoke of the night they must have endured.

"We're so glad that the both of you are okay," Kay said. "Matteo. You gave everyone a major scare."

"I didn’t mean to," he said. “With everything that has happened, my body clearly needed the rest.  I think between the injuries, how tired I was and the amount of calories I ate from Aditi’s amazing food…I couldn’t help but fall asleep while eating

“Trust me, friend, we understand. And yes, Aditi’s food tastes like heaven,” Kay said quietly. “You have been through quite a ton during the last day and a half.”

Mark and Maddie entered, their expressions composed and professional. Their presence felt like a final, reassuring anchor.

“Morning, you two," Mark said with a smile that reached his eyes. "Let's get you both checked out and sent home."

Maddie approached my gurney first, her movements practiced and light. A penlight shone in my eyes as she checked my pupils and asked me to follow her finger that she used to track my eye movement. "Any dizziness? Nausea? Headaches?" she asked, her tone both professional and kind. "Your preliminary scans were clear last night minus the concussion, but we want to be absolutely sure nothing has changed overnight."

"Just tired," I managed, my voice rough. "And a headache. I think it’s from when I hit my head when I fell."

"That’s certainly from the concussion," she said. "I'm going to send you for another CT and an MRI of your head before you get discharged."

Mark moved to Matteo's gurney. He checked his pupils and had him track his finger. "How are the ribs, shoulder, and knee this morning, Matteo? Any new pain?"

"A little sore mixed with painful, but barely better than yesterday," he said, wincing slightly as Mark gently palpated the areas around his injuries. “

"Your blood work was normal and your initial scans were a bit of a mess," Mark said, "but we want to take more imaging of everything to see if we can get a better reading." His expression a mix of professional reassurance.

Kay and Tara remained with us as we waited for transport while Maddie and Mark had left to go see their other patients. We felt that Maddie and Mark had expedited the orders as a matter of minutes later, we were both being wheeled down to radiology.

While Matteo underwent his MRI, I had my CT scan. My order was just for my head, so I was done in half an hour. Thankfully, the hospital had many MRI machines and rooms so I had an MRI done of my head immediately after the CT. The MRI didn’t take too long either and I was soon brought back to the shared room. I knew Matteo’s imaging would take a bit longer as he had more injuries.

As I was back in our shared room, Kay and Tara discreetly left to give me privacy to get dressed. Matteo was wheeled in a few minutes later as I was finishing up. A nurse offered to help Matteo, but he politely declined stating that he preferred my assistance. The nurse nodded, stated that she understood and left. He had always been appreciative of medical professionals but he was tired of the stares at his larger than usual sized dick.

The process of Matteo getting dressed was a slow, careful ritual of leaving the ordeal behind. Matteo was still very sore; moving and reaching hurt more than he wanted to admit. Grabbing our phone accessories to toss into my backpack was the easiest thing to do - other than getting imaging done

Maddie and Mark returned with our discharge papers. They explained that our follow-up imaging looked as clear as could be expected. They cautioned me to be mindful of dizziness and headaches due to the concussion and to make sure I eat, hydrate and rest often as needed. With Matteo, they cautioned him that he would be sore for a week or more and that he should stretch throughout the day, rest, drink plenty of water and not to be afraid to take a muscle relaxant if needed. Mark handed Matteo a prescription bottle of muscle relaxant and a paper prescription for the same muscle relaxant in case he needed more…Mark said that he was hopeful that Matteo didn’t need to fill the second prescription.

We finally walked out into the bright morning. The hospital doors slid open, and a wave of cool, fresh air hit us, a welcome shock after the stagnant and disinfected air inside. Kay, retrieving my bag of Matteo's and my things from me, said, "Matteo, you’ll ride with DeppGrl and I."

“You got it, boss,” Matteo said.

I handed my keys to Kay, and Tara said she’d follow in her car.

The ride back was a quiet, comfortable affair. Kay kept the music low, a soft, jazzy tune that filled the silence without intruding. Matteo, still tired, rested his head against the window, his eyes closed. I watched the world pass in a blur of trees and houses, my mind drifting back to the chaos of the last thirty six hours. But in the quiet of the car, with Kay at the wheel and Matteo beside me, a profound sense of peace settled over me. We were safe and okay.

Kay pulled into my driveway. The sight of my home brought a wave of relief so intense I almost cried. "Alright, you two," Kay said. "Let's get you inside."

Tara asked Kay to pop the trunk so she could get my backpack. Kay obliged and Tara grabbed my bag and quietly shut the trunk.

"I'm glad you're both home," Tara said. "It’s been a long thirty-six hours."

We walked up the path to the front door, the key feeling heavy and real in my hand. Opening the door, I was greeted by the familiar scent of my home, a comforting mix of peach and sandalwood. It was a scent that said: "You're home. You're safe." And for the first time since the whole fiasco started, I believed it.

Matteo and I made our way up the stairs, the climb feeling steeper than usual. Once in the bathroom, we stripped off the clothes we'd been in since yesterday, a symbolic shedding of the ordeal. We stepped into the shower together, the scalding water a welcome shock to our skin. We didn't talk too much, just let the water run over us, washing away the last remnants of the hospital and the tension of the previous night.

"God, that feels good," Matteo murmured, leaning his head against the tile as the water hit his shoulders.

"Best shower of my life," I sighed, letting the tension wash off.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "Just clean."

"Exactly."

We finished the shower in silence. The hot water sluiced over our aching muscles, a physical release after the emotional toll. The steam filled the small space, wrapping us in a comforting cocoon of warmth and the invigorating scent of jasmine and white tea. I leaned against him, feeling the solid weight of his body as the water cascaded over us both, rinsing away the last vestiges of the soap. It was a shared moment of profound silence, a quiet communion after the chaotic storm. We just let the water run over us, washing away the last remnants of the hospital and the tension of the previous night.

Afterward, we toweled off. I put on a set of fresh loungewear, while Matteo, still moving gingerly, slipped into a comfortable pair of sweatpants. He looked at me with a soft and tired smile on his face.

"We made it," he said.

"We did."

"You look exhausted."

"You don't look so hot yourself."

"Fair enough. These clothes feel real again. Not like a hospital gown,” he said as he gently laughed then bent down to kiss me gently.

I pulled Matteo closer so I could deepen the kiss. I gripped his shirt as one of Matteo’s hand moved to the back of my head and his other hand rested on my breast….his thumb roughly stroking my nipple. I could feel his dick harden against me the longer we kissed. I dropped my one hand to see how hard Matteo truly was. He moaned into my mouth and became rock hard when my fingers lightly brushed his dick over his sweatpants.

“Let me help,” I whispered as I stepped back a little as I slid his sweats over his hips. “This will help you feel better.”

“Yessssss,” Matteo moaned once I dropped to my knees and wrapped my mouth around his dick. “My god, the things you do with your mouth, baby!”

He gently thrust his dick in my mouth as he gently grabbed my hair and head. As I was sucking his dick, I swirled my tongue around his dick and gently massaged his heavy balls. In no time, Matteo screamed my name as he unloaded a massive load of cum down my throat. After I swallowed his load, he helped me up before putting his dick back in his sweatpants.

We headed downstairs, drawn by the sound of laughter from the kitchen. Kay and Tara were already there, in the process of plating the food Aditi had just brought over while Matteo and I showered and dressed.

Tara nodded, a warm smile on her face. "Grab a seat, you two. Aditi stopped by to check on you both. Again.  When Kay let her know earlier that she was bringing you home, Aditi brought over some more food for lunch."

“That was some shower,” Kay said teasing us. “I don’t think my husband or I have ever screamed like that after a well-deserved shower!”

I laughed hard as Matteo turned a million shades of red. I’d completely forgotten that Kay and Tara were over. Kay has always known of my trollop sex life and still loved me….Tara – and the staff – have heard me a few times with her uncle, Dom, at the office. However, Aditi didn’t need to hear anything until then – sort of. She knows that I am a bit of a strumpet due to how many boyfriends of mine she has met – whether serious or not. Aditi, who had been sitting at the kitchen table, got up and gave us both a hug. "I'm so happy you both are home," she said, her voice soft with relief.

Matteo smiled at her. "Thanks for everything, Aditi. The food was incredible last night. I’m sure the food will be even better now that we’re home."

"It's just food," she said with a dismissive wave, as if bringing a fresh meal after an ordeal was a matter of course. Aditi stayed for lunch, sitting with us at the kitchen table. The conversation flowed easily between the five of us—a mix of small talk, gentle teasing, and shared relief. Aditi caught me in a moment of quiet and leaned in, her voice low. "I wanted to thank you again for sending me that information on the doctors," she said, her eyes earnest. "It’ help so much. I'll call them in a few days." After she finished eating and shared a few more laughs, she hugged us all goodbye. Once she left, I made my way to the office with Kay, closing the door behind us, the quiet click a seal on the moment. I walked over to Kay, who was sitting at my desk, and sat on the edge of it. My expression thoughtful, I said, "Kay, I want to get the papers started to make Tara a senior partner. There's no one I trust more to run things with me."

Kay's lips twitched into a small smile. "I'd rather you recover first. In the meantime, I'll get the papers ready for you to sign in a few days."

I walked over to her and wrapped my arms around her. "Thank you, Kay," I whispered. "For everything."

She hugged me back just as tightly. "Always," she said. After we pulled away, Kay looked at me for a moment, her eyes full of warmth. "Go get some rest," she said. "I'll see you in a few days with the paperwork. And yes, I know….not a word to Tara until you talk to her first."

I nodded, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over me. I headed upstairs to find Matteo, who had already settled into bed – naked - for a nap. I slipped my clothes off and joined him in bed. I pulled the sheets up to my waist, and he nuzzled against my bare breasts, a gesture of quiet, intimate possession; occasionally sucking on my nipples…which still leaked a little bit since the abortion.

The afternoon felt heavy with something unsaid, a raw, undeniable current that had hummed between us since the moment we were alone. The sun slanted through the blinds, casting long, gold-dusted lines across Matteo’s propped body. His gaze was on me, sharp and unrelenting, as though he could pin me in place without touching me.

We’d talked for hours—banal things at first, small stories and unguarded laughter—but the words had thinned the longer we stayed stretched out on the bed. Eventually, all that filled the silence was his breathing, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the restless flex of his hand where it draped across my hip, tightening just a little each time I shifted.

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” I asked at last, my voice breaking the fragile quiet.

His mouth curved, but his smile wasn’t playful. It was a dark, dangerous promise.

“Because,” he said in a burning whisper, “you’re lying naked in bed next to me and I’m fighting the urge to fuck who I wish I could call mine.”

My pulse faltered, stuttering wildly in my throat. “Then stop fighting.”

The shift was instant. His restraint snapped like a thread stretched too thin. Matteo rolled on top of me, his body pressing into mine with a weight that stole the air from my lungs. His mouth found mine, and it wasn’t gentle—it was a confession, a claim. The kiss was bruising, desperate, his tongue tangling with mine as though he’d been starving for this.

I gasped against him, my hands flying up to his hair, tugging him closer. That only made him groan, a low, guttural sound that resonated through me, as if my response was the fuel to his fire.

“You undo me,” he growled into my mouth, between fevered kisses. His hand slid down, gripping my side so tight it bordered on painful, a physical anchor to his need. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

“Yes,” I whispered, breath ragged. “I feel the same.”

He stilled for a moment, the look in his eyes dangerous, dark with possession. “Say it, then. Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” I whispered without hesitation, the words torn out of me, a surrender as raw as his demand. “For now,” I whispered softly.

The answering sound that rumbled through him was animal, a sound of pure, unbridled satisfaction when he pushed his large dick deep into my pussy. He kissed me again, deeper, hungrier, his strength bearing me down into the mattress. His body was overwhelming, hard planes pressing into me, a dangerous heat building wherever he touched me. My sharp gasp betrayed me when I felt him thrust in and out of me, insistent, demanding, more than I expected—so much that my legs trembled just from the pressure.

Matteo caught the sound and smirked, biting lightly at my lip. “What’s wrong?” he taunted, his voice velvet and dangerous. “Too much for you?”

“Never too much,” I breathed, clinging to him, though my body shook under the intensity.

“Good,” he growled, dragging his lips down my throat as I arched helplessly beneath him. “Because I’m not holding anything back.”

The rest of the world fell away. His mouth consumed my pussy, claiming every inch of me with his teeth, tongue, and lips, until all I could do was writhe and gasp, begging for more even as he teased. After climaxing on his tongue repeatedly, he thrust his hard dick in me again. At first he went slow as he pumped in and out of me savoring, leaving me desperate for what I couldn’t yet reach. But when my pleas spilled out—broken whispers of “please, Matteo, no more waiting”—he shattered all pretense of patience.

The rhythm between us turned wild and unrestrained. His weight pinned me down, held me open, while his hands gripped greedily, pulling me against him as though he meant to devour every part of me. My gasps grew louder, desperate, and each sound seemed to push him further, until he was groaning against my skin, half-crazed by the way I responded to him.

“You’re mine,” he rasped again, biting the words against my throat. “Every gasp, every shiver.”

“Yes,” I cried, nails digging into his back.

His rhythm grew harsher, fevered, dragging me over the edge of something I couldn’t name. I clutched at him, begging incoherently, saying his name like a prayer and a curse in the same breath. "Fuck," he groaned, the sound torn from him. "You feel so good."

He swallowed every sound with savage kisses, moving against me as if he couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t breathe without pressing deeper, harder.

"Don't stop," I cried, my nails digging into his back. "Don't you dare stop."

His rhythm grew harsher, fevered, dragging me over the edge of something I couldn’t name. I clutched at him, begging incoherently, saying his name like a prayer and a curse in the same breath.

He swallowed every sound with savage kisses, moving against me as if he couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t breathe without pushing his dick deeper, harder inside of my pussy.

“I am so close to cumming!” I moaned.

His breath hitched in a guttural moan, and my own gasp was a broken sob against his skin.

“Yes, baby!” he screamed. “I’m going to cum so hard!”

The climax that we both had broken between us—loud, consuming, endless. And when the chaos finally fractured into silence, we were left a tangled mess of limbs, our chests heaving in sync, both of us marked and undone. Matteo collapsed beside me, dragging me into his arms with a possessive swipe, as if even now someone might steal me from him. He pressed a final, searing kiss to my temple. “You ruin me,” he whispered, his voice raw and broken.

I kissed his cheek, still trembling, and dared a shaky laugh. “Then I’ll ruin you again later.”

The sound that escaped him was half laugh, half groan, but his arm only tightened until I was trapped against him. And like that, we both drifted into exhausted, dreamless sleep.

The low light of the late afternoon had turned to a deep twilight when we finally stirred. The nap had done us both good; the raw exhaustion was still there, but it was no longer a crushing weight. We untangled ourselves from the sheets and pulled on the same clothes we had discarded earlier. Downstairs, the kitchen was quiet, the lingering scent of Aditi’s paneer tikka masala still in the air. Matteo opened the fridge and pulled out the containers.

"Dinner?" he asked, his voice low and raspy.

"Yes, please," I said, a wave of hunger hitting me. I rubbed my temples, the dull throb of a headache starting to settle in. He saw the gesture and his brow furrowed.

"Headache?"

"It's been lurking all afternoon,” I said as I nodded.

 "I was about to take a muscle relaxant for myself. Do you want an Excedrin Migraine? I'll get you the bottle when I bring you water." he said, his voice soft with concern as he got two glasses.

"Please. I feel like a walking pharmacy," I muttered as I swallowed the pill with a sip of water.

"Better than a walking disaster," he said with a weak smile. "We’ll get back to normal soon."

We ate in comfortable silence, the leftovers a warm, savory comfort in our tired bodies. We simply focused on the food and the relief of being home. Afterward, we moved to the living room, collapsing on the couch. Matteo put on an old Humphrey Bogart movie, the kind with questionable special effects and cheesy dialogue. We didn’t pay much attention to the plot, instead leaning against each other, simply enjoying the quiet comfort of being together. A few times, I stroked his thick dick in my hands until he climaxed and moaned my name. The flickering light of the television danced across our faces, and I felt my eyelids growing heavy. When the credits finally rolled, Matteo turned off the TV and took my hand.

"Come on," he whispered. "Let’s get to bed, sweetie."

The exhaustion was a sweet kind of heavy now, and we made our way back up the stairs, ready for a long, well-deserved rest. We stripped our clothing when I remembered that we forgot to bring water with us. I told Matteo that I’d go downstairs to grab us some water, his prescription muscle relaxant and my Excedrin Migraine. I was quick and back upstairs within a few minutes. I placed one of the glasses on the night stand and Matteo’s medication on his side of the bed and I walked to my side, placing my water and migraine medicine on my nightstand. I slid into the cool sheets next to Matteo. He pulled me close to him and we fell asleep in minutes.

The sunlight woke me first. Warm streaks painted the sheets gold, highlighting the disaster of tangled fabric and the marks still lingering on my skin. Matteo moved almost before I did, pulling me instinctively closer, like his body refused to let mine slip free.

“Don’t you dare move,” he muttered into my hair, voice thick with sleep and command.

I smiled, tilting my face up to kiss along his jaw. “What if I want to?” I teased.

His eyes flickered open, and even in daylight they carried the same dark, dangerous heat as the night before. His grin ghosted sharp, wolfish. “Then we’ll just have sex until we’re both spent!”

Before I could challenge him, he rolled, pinning me beneath him effortlessly and spreading my legs. He pushed his dick in me again, making me gasp, but it wasn’t fear of his large dick that flooded me—it was fire.

“You can’t keep me here forever,” I whispered, though my body arched toward him.

His mouth ghosted over mine, hot breath spilling into me. “Sweetheart,” he said in that low, commanding voice that made me shudder, “you think you have a choice?”

The kiss that followed was rough, impatient, his tongue sweeping into me with a hunger that sent me reeling. I clutched at him, already unraveling beneath the dominance with which he claimed me—even in the golden quiet of morning. His hand cupped the back of my neck, holding me still as his mouth devoured mine, his growl vibrating against my lips.

“You’ll never have enough,” he whispered as his teeth grazed my skin. “And I’ll never stop giving you more.”

The second round burned with a primal, unrestrained intensity. His hips began a powerful rhythm that was all demand and no mercy. The bed groaned in protest as his dick pushed into me with each thrust, a friction that built a desperate heat between us. I dug my nails into his back as my body arched to meet him, my hips lifting to his every demanding thrust. The sunlight, harsh and clear through the window, illuminated the flex of his muscles, every dark, possessive look in his eyes. There were no words, only the raw sound of my own gasps and the low moans that tore from his throat.

"Oh god," he groaned, his voice raw. "You’re so beautiful."

"More," I pleaded, a breathless whisper against his ear. "Faster."

A low grunt rumbled in his chest, and his hips drove into me with punishing speed. His breath hitched in a raw, guttural groan, and a shudder ripped through his body.

"Fuck, DeppGrl," he groaned, my name a plea. "I'm so close."

"Me too," I sobbed, a sound torn from my lips as the pressure built. "Please... don't stop."

A guttural roar tore from his throat. I felt his body tense and then release, a shuddering release that mirrored my own. I cried out, a broken sob against his skin, as a soft sigh escaped my lips. My legs trembled and my body went limp. He claimed me a second time, pushing me to pieces all over again, and I answered him with my body, my hips lifting to meet his every demanding thrust until all I could do was cling to him and beg for more. We climaxed for the third time in less than twelve hours, him filling my hungry cervix with his thick cum.

“If I had my way,” he murmured, his voice still rough but softer now, “you’d never leave this bed.”

I smiled faintly, curling into him and letting his possessive embrace consume me. “Then don’t let me.”

And from the way he growled in response, I knew he never would.

Collateral damage

Sleep had been hollow and measured in fleeting hours stolen from a mind that refused to cede to rest. My worry for Matteo felt like a physical weight settled upon my chest, a cold and leaden ache that had nothing to do with gravity. The fear that he and Vince would become collateral damage in the wake of my complicated, messy history with both of them was a thought I could not shake—a gnawing anxiety that kept me pinned to the bed as the first tentative fingers of predawn light reached through the curtains. My thoughts spun in an agonizing loop, replaying the events involving Mike and conjuring a dozen catastrophic legal outcomes. The silence of the room, punctuated only by the distant hum of the house and the slow, steady beat of my heart amplified the tension. I longed for the oblivion of a deeper sleep but my mind refused to grant it.

Eventually, the futile search for rest became undeniable. I slid out of bed, the smooth silk sheets feeling cool against my naked skin and sought refuge of my morning routine. The bathroom air was cool and still but scalding spray of the shower became a cleansing force, a loud, hissing cascade that washed away not just the feel of my own fear but the residue of the night's dark emotions. I hung the towels and in the mirror reflected a tired, drawn face, and I brushed my teeth. I chose a familiar set of loungewear that felt like a second skin. Only then did I feel composed enough to descend the stairs.

The scent of coffee was the first thing to greet me, a rich, earthy aroma that promised normalcy. It was a familiar comfort, a small point of light in the lingering emotional fog. The sounds of easy laughter drew me to the kitchen, a welcome sound that filled the empty spaces in the house. I found Matteo and Vince, their relaxed postures and lighthearted banter a stark contrast to the tumult that had occupied my thoughts. Matteo was leaning against the counter, a mug cupped in both hands, while Vince sat at the kitchen table, a laptop open in front of him.

"I was listening to 'Word Crimes' by Weird Al while you were sleeping earlier," Vince said. "Dude's seriously a musical genius - his lyrical precision is next-level. Who else can make a song about grammar that's actually catchy? Well, DeppGrl most likely but don’t ask her to sing!"

Matteo nodded in agreement, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Weird Al is a national treasure and needs to be protected! Deppgrl and I went to his concert a few years ago and it was the best show we’ve seen together. He’s far better than half the bands he parodies - it's not even a fair comparison. The energy in the room was just incredible."

Vince chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "I've always wanted to see him live. I heard he puts on a crazy show. Did he do 'Amish Paradise'?"

Matteo's grin widened even further at the question. "Of course! He did most of his collection. The costume changes after each song were insane, and Deppgrl almost got hit by an inflatable accordion when he threw it into the crowd. It was one of those moments where you just look at each other and start laughing because it's so ridiculously perfect." He shook his head, a mixture of disbelief and fond memory in his eyes. "Nobody else has a career like that. Al is a walking encyclopedia of pop culture."

Vince laughed. "He's been doing this for decades, and he's still relevant. My most recent former students were fans of his and many had all of his LPs.”

I poured myself a mug of coffee, the steam a warm cloud against my face then fixed it with my favorite flavored and sweetened Chobani creamer. My ears were still tuned to their conversation, the casual ease of their banter a welcome sound. I drank my coffee as they talked. It was a stark contrast to the familiar anger that simmered just beneath my own surface. Mike's jealousy, his petty meddling with Matteo's car—it all felt like a bitter, unwanted residue of the previous night, a stain that wouldn't wash away. The memory of his pettiness and the fear in Matteo's eyes was a sharp, unpleasant memory.

Yet, a surprising sense of calm settled over me, rooted not in forgiveness but in a quiet finality. I had an unshakeable faith in Kay despite her hurting me unintentionally as she thought she was protecting me. I knew she would handle it - she would talk to Mike, making it clear in no uncertain terms that he was to avoid both Matteo and me for a while. I also knew she would deliver the final, crushing blow: any hope he had of a future with me was now irrevocably gone, a consequence of his own actions. It was a firm, unspoken promise that brought a sense of closure to the situation, allowing me to finally breathe without a weight on my chest. I took a slow sip of my coffee, the warmth spreading through me, and for the first time since yesterday, I felt the tension begin to drain from my shoulders. The world outside the kitchen felt less threatening, and the two men's laughter became a quiet, reassuring symphony of normalcy.

I finished my coffee and walked into the living room, a genuine smile on my face, happy to see that they had found something to bond over that wasn't related to me. "Hey guys," I said. "How are you two doing this morning?"

"We're good," Vince said, looking up from his laptop. "Matteo is a trooper. He has been keeping me busy."

"Yeah, I'm good," Matteo added, his own smile tired but sincere. "Vince made sure the ice packs were on rotation and the pain meds were maintained. He’s a good nurse."

"Sounds like you're both in good hands," I said, laughing at the image of Vince playing nurse. "Are you hungry? I can make us something to eat."

"You don't need to," Vince replied, his eyes still on his laptop. "I called Aditi at Flavors of India and ordered two of everything on the menu to be delivered here. She was more than happy to and said it'd be about an hour and fifteen minutes. I called her about forty-five minutes ago."

I laughed, picking up my mug down. "Vince, you're a lifesaver. Let me go clean up the mess you left in the kitchen, then."

After tidying up the kitchen and pouring myself more coffee,  I returned to the living room. "The food will be here shortly," I said, leaning against the doorway. "Do you guys want me to set up trays and bring everything in here, or is Matteo up for moving into the kitchen?"

Matteo shifted, wincing slightly. "I think I can move into the kitchen. It would probably be good to stretch and move around a little."

Vince looked up from his computer. "You sure? We can totally do the tray thing."

"Yeah, I'm sure," Matteo said, pushing himself up slowly from the couch with a quiet groan. "Just give me a second." He tried to get up on his own, but his legs trembled, and he quietly whispered to Vince, "Vince, can I please get a little help?"

Vince immediately stood and helped him up. I winced as I heard Matteo moan and groan in pain, my heart aching for him. I met him halfway across the living room, and he bent down the best he could to kiss me. I held him by the waist.

"Whoa, hang on a second," I said gently.

I grabbed the small step stool I used to reach the high kitchen cabinets, brought it over to him, and stepped up on it. I leaned in and kissed him softly. He wrapped his arms around me, and I could feel the familiar weight of his body as his kiss deepened. I felt his dick harden against my body, and he moaned into the kiss, a sound that was a mix of desire and relief. When we pulled apart, I whispered, "A few more days, okay?"

Matteo rested his forehead against mine, his breath warm against my skin. "Okay," he said, his voice a low rumble. "But I want you now."

I smiled, my heart fluttering. "I know, I want you too." I climbed down from the stool and moved it back to its spot next to the cabinets. "Let's get you into the kitchen. The food should be here soon."

Matteo nodded and made his way down the hallway. "I'm going to head to the bathroom first," Matteo said. "I don't think I need any help, but I'll leave the door open just in case."

As Matteo limped to the bathroom, Vince looked back to me. "Is it really a good idea for you two to have sex so soon after the accident?" he asked, his voice low with genuine concern.

"Probably not," I admitted. "But in a few days, he'll see his primary doctor and then follow up with Maddie."

Vince looked puzzled. "Maddie? Who's Maddie?"

"She's the ER physician that took care of me after the whole Xavier fiasco," I explained.

"Oh," Vince said, his eyes widening in recognition. "Dr. Jones?"

"Yeah, that's her," I confirmed. "We'll wait until they both give him the go-ahead." I looked at Vince, my expression serious. "Hey, you know, there's something I've been wanting to say. About everything that's happened."

Vince held up his hand. "Deppgrl, I'm the one who should be talking. I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for hurting you and for listening to my priest about marrying you instead of both hearing and listening to what you wanted. I should have trusted you to know what was best for you."

"Thank you, Vince," I said, and meant it. The words felt like a weight being lifted from my shoulders. "What I was going to tell you was that I'm more than okay with you when you decide to move on from me."

"Thank you," he said, a look of profound relief on his face. He leaned in as if to kiss me, but before he could, Matteo's voice came from the hallway.

"Vince, can you please come here?" he called out, the sound of his pained voice echoing.

Vince pulled away immediately. "I'm coming, man! Hold on." He rushed to the bathroom, leaving me standing alone in the kitchen, the warmth of the coffee still in my hands. The moment was gone, but the feeling of relief from the conversation remained. It was a step toward a future that felt a little less complicated, a little more certain. I knew we would be okay.

Just then, the bathroom door clicked shut. I could hear their muffled voices and the faint sound of the faucet running. "I'll be okay, don't worry," Matteo's voice was low and strained. "Just… take it easy." I could make out Vince's hushed response, Matteo joking again and saying something about Vince being a good nurse, and then a quiet shuffle of fabric as Vince helped to fix Matteo's shorts. The doorbell rang, pulling me from the moment, and I went to answer it, my excitement building to see Aditi and her amazing food.

I opened the door and found myself face to face with Mike. Before he could utter a word, I cut him off, my voice calm but firm. "Mike, I don't want to hear whatever excuse you have. I don't want to see you. You have five seconds to turn around and leave." His mouth opened slightly, but he closed it, his shoulders slumping. As he turned to leave, I added, "Anything you want to say, you can write a letter and have it sent through Kay. That's the only way I'll read it." He simply said, "Okay," before continuing his quick trip back to his own house.

I was about to close the door when a car door opened across the street, and I smelled the unmistakable scent of Aditi’s amazing food. I went out to her car and helped her carry in the millions of bags of food she had in her car.

"Did you charge him an arm and a leg, Aditi?" I asked, a playful grin on my face.

She laughed, long and hard, the sound a warm balm to my frayed nerves. "An arm and a leg? That's what I charged him initially!" she said, a twinkle in her eye. "No, but I did charge him," she said, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "Once he gave me your address, I gave him a small discount. But it wasn't significant enough for him to notice."

I laughed, shaking my head. "That's my girl." I thanked her, then asked about her husband, since I hadn't heard from her in a while. "How's your husband doing, Aditi?"

A worried look clouded her face. "His health is a little iffy right now," she said softly. "He's not responding to his insulin very well."

As soon as I put the bags down on the kitchen counter, I took out my phone and sent her a few contacts for endocrinologist friends of mine. "These are some of the best endocrinologists in the area. Call them a call - they might be able to help."

Her eyes filled with gratitude. "Thank you so much, DeppGrl. That means the world to me."

We went back out to get more food, making a total of three trips. As we headed to the front door for the last time, I pulled her into a hug. "You know you can call me anytime if you and your husband need a ride anywhere or company when he's at a doctor's appointment or at home."

She squeezed me tight. "I know. Thank you."

I closed the door as Matteo and Vince made their slow, careful way into the kitchen. I began to unpack the containers of food as they moved, their voices low and hushed. I couldn't make out everything they were saying, but I did catch a fragment: "...just don't tell her how much pain I'm in."

They made it to the kitchen and both Vince and I helped Matteo into a chair at the kitchen table. Vince began serving Matteo food, piling his plate high with samosas, butter chicken, and naan. I, in turn, switched out the old ice packs on Matteo's knee and wrapped a fresh one around it using a stretchy bandage, then grabbed the pain meds Maddie prescribed and brought them to the table. Vince poured us all ice water and then sat down across from me, a plate full of food in front of him. "Dig in," Vince told Matteo as I sat down.

Matteo couldn't stop raving about the food. "This butter chicken is insane," he said between bites, his mouth full. "And this naan? It's like eating a cloud. I swear Aditi puts some kind of magic in her food." He finished his first plate in what felt like seconds and immediately reached for more. Vince and I watched him, a mix of concern and amusement on our faces as he ate his second, third, and then a fourth plate, his appetite seemingly limitless despite his pain.

"I haven't been this hungry in years," he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "The smell alone was torture."

"Glad to see you're enjoying it," Vince said, a smile on his face. "I'm just glad she gave me a discount."

Matteo chuckled, reaching for one more samosa. "You're a lifesaver, dude."

As Matteo was finishing his last plate, I noticed his head start to nod, his eyes fluttering. "Hey, you okay?" I asked, my voice laced with concern.

"Yeah," he mumbled, his eyes heavy. "Just... tired. Haven't slept much because of the pain."

I turned to Vince, and he gave me a subtle, knowing nod. I stood up, grabbing my phone, and excused myself. I walked into the living room and called Mark, my primary doctor.

"Mark, it's DeppGrl. I'm with Matteo—the guy from the accident yesterday. He's acting a little... off. He's eating, but he keeps nodding off. He says he's just tired, but I'm worried."

Mark's voice was immediate and sharp. "Get him to the ER right now. Don't wait. By car would be fastest. He could have an undiagnosed TBI and needs to be seen immediately. I'll meet you there."

"Okay, Mark," I said, a wave of cold dread washing over me. "Thank you so much. We're on our way." We hung up, and I went back into the kitchen.

"Vince," I said, my voice low and serious. "Load Matteo into my car and take him to the ER. I'll follow shortly."

Vince’s expression immediately shifted from calm to alert. He didn't ask for permission as he grabbed my keys from my purse. "On it," he said.

Matteo, still drowsy, shook his head. "No, I'm fine, really. I just need to rest."

"Matteo, this isn't a discussion," I said, my voice firm. "You're going. It's two against one, so don't even try."

He sighed, but didn't argue further, and Vince helped him out the front door.

As they headed to the car, I began to quickly clean up, putting away the remaining food. I grabbed a backpack and shoved a few changes of clothes for Matteo and myself inside. I then tossed in my wallet, phone, Matteo's wallet and phone, a few chargers, lightning cables, and a few bases. I raided Vince's bag for his motorcycle keys, then sent a quick text to Tara.

Me: Hey, can you pop over and lock up my house ASAP? Emergency with Matteo. Tara: On my way.

I ran out the door, fumbling with the keys. I didn't know how to ride a motorcycle and hoped I wouldn't ruin it as I sped toward the hospital. The roar of the engine was deafening, the wind whipping past my face as I navigated traffic. I barely had the motorcycle in park and turned it off before running inside the emergency room.

I could hear Mark and Maddie shouting and demanding orders. "Get him on a gurney, now!" Mark yelled, his voice cutting through the noise. "Blood work, IVs, MRIs, and a CT scan! Let's get a full picture of what's happening."

"On it, Mark!" Maddie shouted back, her voice full of urgency. "Prep a room, people! We've got a potential TBI here!"

I spotted Vince standing anxiously in the corner of the room. He saw me and walked over, kissing the top of my head before pulling me into a tight hug.

"I love you," he whispered, his mouth pressed against the side of my ear. "I know you can't and won't say it back, but I know you love me too. It’s just... different now. Especially with Matteo in the picture."

All I could do was hug him back, holding on tight as the chaos of the emergency room swirled around us. "Vince," I said, my voice barely a whisper, "take my bag."

He pulled away from the hug, his eyes questioning as he reached for the backpack. As soon as my hand released the strap, the strength I didn't know I was holding on to completely gave out. My vision tunneled and the world tilted sideways. I collapsed, falling to the floor, barely registering the dull thud as my head made contact with the cold, hard tile.

My eyes fluttered open to the soft hum of hospital machinery. A sterile, antiseptic scent filled the air, a sharp contrast to the familiar aroma of coffee and Indian food from my morning. I blinked, trying to clear the fog in my mind, and realized I was on a gurney. I was still wearing the same loungewear I had put on that morning, but my head was throbbing with a dull ache. My hand instinctively went to the spot on the back of my head where I'd hit the floor.

"Deppgrl?" a voice called out softly, and I turned my head to see Matteo. He was on a gurney of his own, in the same small room, but his was wheeled up close to mine. His face was pale, his brow furrowed with a mixture of pain and concern. "You're finally awake. Are you okay?"

"Matteo, what are you doing back here?" I asked, my voice raspy. My brain was still catching up. "And why am I on a gurney?"

"You passed out," he said, his voice quiet. "I just got back from imaging. They wanted to make sure everything was okay." He paused, his eyes scanning my face with a worried intensity. "I should be asking you if you're okay. You just collapsed."

I took a deep breath, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. "I'm fine, just... tired," I lied, the exhaustion a heavy blanket over me. My gaze went to his knee, which was still wrapped in an ice pack. "What did they say? What did Mark and Maddie say?"

"I'll be okay," he said with a tired smile, though his eyes told a different story. "We're both going to be okay."

Just then, the door opened and Mark and Maddie walked in, their expressions a mix of professional concern and personal relief. They pulled up chairs next to our gurneys.

"Glad to see you're both awake," Mark said, his voice calm and reassuring. "Matteo, your blood work came back and everything looks good. We're still waiting on the full results of your MRI and CT scans, but we have a preliminary report. Your adrenaline dropped, and the exertion of eating so much food on top of your existing injuries from the accident likely caused you to fall asleep. It's a good thing Vince brought you in. As for you, Deppgrl," Mark turned to me, a small, knowing smile on his face. "You've got a mild concussion. It's nothing serious, but it's a reminder that exhaustion is a real thing, especially after everything you've been through lately. Your adrenaline finally dropped back to normal, and your body just... gave out."

"You two gave us quite a scare," Maddie added, her tone more playful. "But we're keeping you both for observation, just to be on the safe side."

A short while later, after we had been moved to a shared hospital room, there was a knock on the door and Aditi came in, a familiar scent of spices and warmth wafting in with her.

"How are my two favorite patients?" she asked, her voice soft with concern as she approached our beds. She looked between us, her eyes gentle. "I heard what happened. I came as soon as I could."

"We're okay, Aditi," I said, trying to smile. "Just a little banged up."

Matteo nodded. "Yeah, we're doing fine."

Aditi gave me a pointed look, her eyes narrowing slightly. "For the record," she said in a clear, firm voice, "I did not alter the food in any way." She then broke into a small smile. "I'm just happy to see that you two are okay."

"Thank you, Aditi," I sighed. "We know that you would never do that to us or anyone else. Your food, restaurant and you all have a reputation of being sticklers for doing the right thing."

She nodded, patted my leg and left us.

An hour of silence

I headed back upstairs, the scent of Matteo still clinging to the sheets, a powerful, lingering reminder of the passion we had shared just moments ago. I gathered the bedding into a heavy bundle and carried it down to the basement laundry room. The familiar weight of the fabric settled in my arms, a comforting anchor against the swirling emotions inside me. I tossed the bedding into the washing machine, added the detergent, and pushed the door shut. The final click felt jarringly absolute, a sharp punctuation mark on an afternoon that was anything but final.

After starting the cycle, I went back up to the main floor to grab a bottle of juice from the fridge. Just as I set it on the counter, the mundane silence of the house was shattered by the rapid-fire buzz of my phone. A hopeful flutter started in my chest; it had to be Matteo. My heart sank, however, when I saw the name on the screen. Mike. Three texts had come through in quick succession. Without even bothering to read them, I swiped and deleted them all. The thought of him sent a wave of annoyance through me, and for a fleeting moment, I considered moving to the next town over just to escape him. The beautiful house I’d looked at would have made a good buffer, but the twenty-minute addition to my commute, the stress of moving, and the drain on my time felt like too high a price to pay for a man who would still attend the same church. It wasn't worth the hassle, the money, or the drama.

I returned to the basement to transfer the bedding to the dryer and turned it on. Back upstairs, I finally took a sip of the juice. Another thirty minutes passed without a word from Matteo. The silence was unnerving. I finally called him, but it went straight to voicemail. “Are you okay, Matteo? It’s been over an hour and I haven’t heard from you. I’m calling to make sure you’re alright. I’m very worried.”

By the time I was pulling the warm bedding out of the dryer an hour later, my phone rang. The name on the screen made my blood run cold: Dr. Maddie Jones, the ER physician who had treated me multiple times during the whole Xavier fiasco.

“Hi, it’s Dr. Jones,” she said, her voice laced with urgency. “Matteo is in the ER and has been asking for you.”

“I’ll be there in twelve minutes,” I said, the words a blur, and hung up. The basket of folded laundry fell from my hands, spilling onto the basement floor but I didn’t care. Matteo’s well-being was all that mattered.

I scrambled through the house, snatching my purse, phone charger, and keys. My car screamed to life as I turned the ignition, and I raced toward the hospital, breaking the speed limit without a second thought. I arrived in a record eight minutes, my heart pounding in my chest as I jogged toward the ER entrance. Max, a nurse I recognized from treating me, greeted me and led me to Matteo’s room. He was half-asleep, his eyelids heavy from the pain medication. The sight of him was devastating. His face was a patchwork of bruises, one eye was black, and his arms and upper torso were covered in dark contusions.

Max guided me back into the hallway to give Matteo privacy. “When he arrived,” he explained softly, “Matteo filled out forms stating that you are his emergency contact and that we could share PPI and HIPAA information with you.”

“What happened?” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

“He was in a car accident. Police are at the scene, and Dr. Jones and I are taking care of him,” Max said.

“Oh my god… is he going to be alright?” I asked. “How bad is it? Please, tell me he’s going to be okay. Thank you for taking care of him, Max.”

“I know you’re scared,” he said, his expression full of empathy. “I promise we’re doing everything for him. He’s stable, but he’s in a lot of pain. We’ll let you in as soon as it’s safe. We’ll get you to him soon, I promise.”

“Can I… stay with him?” I asked, voice trembling.

Max looked at me and nodded. “Yes. We’ll make that happen.”

I settled into a chair next to Matteo after Dr. Jones left twenty minutes later, holding his hand, feeling the warmth of his pulse through the thin hospital blanket. The night passed in broken stretches of sleep and quiet moments, punctuated by his soft groans as he shifted. I stayed, never letting go of his hand, brushing his hair back from his forehead when he murmured my name in half-sleep.

By morning, Matteo was awake enough to speak, his voice hoarse and weak. “Depp…Grl?”

“I’m right here,” I whispered. “Don’t move, just rest.”

He exhaled slowly, closing his eyes again, and I continued to sit, watching the rise and fall of his chest. The rhythmic beeping of the monitors became a strange lullaby, underscoring the intimacy of being there for him.

By late morning, I helped him sit upright, adjusting pillows to ease his discomfort. “Breakfast? I can bring you something.”

“I’m not hungry,” he admitted. “But glad you’re here.”

Just then, two uniformed police officers appeared in the doorway. “Good morning, sir,” one said. “We’re here to speak with you about the car accident.”

Matteo’s heart rate spiked instantly, his hand gripping mine tighter. “No… not now… please…”

I stood quickly, guiding the officers into the hallway. “He’s in a lot of pain. Can you give me a moment?”

“Of course,” one replied, calm but firm as they followed me out into the hallway.

I turned to the officers. “Do you have any idea who caused this?”

The taller officer looked at me seriously. “Your neighbor, Mike, admitted to tampering with his car. He claims it was minor, but apparently it was just enough to cause this accident.”

My blood ran cold. “Was he arrested?”

The officer shook his head. “Not yet. He’s being investigated. Statements from witnesses are corroborating the story that it wasn’t an accident entirely. The investigation is ongoing.”

I exhaled sharply and walked back to Matteo, taking his hand again. “He’s not going to get away with this,” I murmured, my voice trembling. “Thank you.”

I headed back into Matteo’s room. Matteo’s eyes filled with frustration. “I…”

“I know,” I said softly. “Right now, we focus on you. We’ll handle him later. You just rest, okay?”

Matteo squeezed my hand weakly, then took a shaky breath. “Okay… but… I remember… the moment… tire… slipping… and… I think I know who… it’s… Mike.”

“Mike?” I echoed, my stomach twisting with the awful realization that he had heard the police tell me  

“Yes,” Matteo said, voice hoarse but firm. “Jealous… he… he did it. Tampered… car… just enough… make accident… I almost… I almost didn’t… survive…”

Tears pricked my eyes as I held him tighter. “You’re safe now. That’s what matters. We’ll make sure he’s held responsible. Right now, you rest, Matteo. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

He exhaled, relief mixing with lingering fear. “Thank… you… for… staying.”

“Always,” I whispered, brushing my fingers over his bruised hand. “We’ll get through this… together.”

The hospital room felt still for a long moment, the weight of the revelation settling in. But with my hand in his, Matteo’s fragile strength returned bit by bit. And for the first time since the accident, he seemed certain that justice—and safety—would follow.

I stepped out of the hospital room and pulled my phone from my purse, my fingers fumbling as I dialed Kay’s number. She answered on the second ring, her voice crisp and professional.

“Kay, it’s me,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “Something happened. Matteo’s in the ER.”

I quickly recounted the events of the last twelve hours. There was a pause on the other end, and then I heard her take a deep, steadying breath.

“I’ll call the police now,” she said, her voice filled with a calm authority that I desperately needed. “I’ll tell them you want to take legal action against Mike on Matteo’s behalf.”

I listened as she laid out the plan. “Once I get that squared away, I’ll reach out to his car insurance company with the police report. I’ll explain that I’m now representing Matteo.”

A wave of relief washed over me. “Thank you, Kay. It’s time for a truce.”

“I agree,” she said. “Let’s get this sorted.”

We hung up and I rejoined Matteo, my heart feeling a little lighter with every step.

A few minutes later, Dr. Jones came in, her face holding a tired but reassuring smile. She explained the results of the second round of scans. “No broken bones, which is a huge relief,” she said. “But his lungs, ribs, and a shoulder muscle are strained. He also has a concussion, so he’ll need to be very careful with any movement. Taking care of himself will be tough for a while.”

I nodded, my mind already racing through the logistics. “I’ll take care of him.”

As Dr. Jones left, Tara came running into the room, her voice frantic. “I just got a call from Kay! She wants to know what I can do to help!”

Matteo, his eyes still heavy, managed a faint smile. “The first thing you can do is stop shouting,” he said, his voice a hoarse whisper.

Tara’s face flushed, and she nodded, pulling her phone from her pocket. I stepped forward and took her arm. “Just run the business,” I told her. “Reach out to Kay and me if you need anything at all.” She nodded again, her expression serious, and left the room.

Max returned with a handful of instant ice packs, bottles of prescription-strength Motrin and Tylenol, and a stack of discharge papers. As Matteo slowly got dressed, someone came with a wheelchair for him to use. I walked out to the parking lot and brought my car around to the front entrance, just as Max was wheeling Matteo out.

Once he was settled in the passenger seat, I started the car. “Are we going to your house?” he asked, a flicker of nervousness in his eyes.

“Yes,” I said softly. “Mike was arrested and then released into his ex-wife’s custody, so he’s there. He’s not a threat anymore.” A wave of relief washed over his face.

The twelve-minute drive home took a slow thirty minutes as I drove carefully, wincing at every small bump in the road that made him flinch.

Kay met us at my house and helped me get Matteo inside. She then left to go to his house to get him clothes and other things he’d need. I took a moment to call Matteo's boss. He happened to be friends with the police officer who had been at the hospital and told me he had already arranged a week of leave for Matteo. I thanked him profusely before helping Matteo get settled.

I helped him shower and put him in the spare bedroom since I hadn’t finished making my bed. Once I was sure he was asleep, I went downstairs, tossed the bedding back into the washer, added detergent, and started the cycle. I then went back upstairs to take a shower.

Afterwards, I found Matteo still asleep and went downstairs again, grabbing a few bananas and some bottled water. I carried them up to the spare room. I then went down to the basement to move the bedding to the dryer. When I finally returned upstairs, I slipped into the bed beside Matteo.

We slept for a few hours before we woke up. He was in pain, so he ate a few bananas and took his medication with the water. I asked if he wanted ice packs or heat, and he chose ice packs.

While I was downstairs, I refolded the bedding from the dryer and put it back in the basket. I placed the basket on the counter, grabbed some ice packs, and brought everything up to the spare room.

As I was applying the ice packs, Kay texted me to say she had some of his clothes—and knowing her, it was probably enough for three weeks—as well as enough food to last several millennia. I thanked her and told her she could drop his things in the living room since we were in the guest room and he was undressed.

When I heard her in the hallway, I stepped out, headed downstairs and gave her a hug. She told me that Mike's case would be handled as a civil matter, and she was pushing for a quick resolution. Since Mike didn't have a lawyer and wanted to handle it himself, he had already agreed to pay for all legal fees, a new car, and all of Matteo's medical bills and therapy if needed. I asked her to hold on for a second.

I stepped back into the guest room to tell Matteo what was happening. He pulled the sheet and blanket up to his chin and told me to let Kay in. I did, and he nodded in agreement, accepting the offer. Kay told him that since she was working pro bono, she would not be pushing for legal fees. He nodded again and asked how long the process would take. Kay told him it could take a few weeks but that she would push for it to be resolved within a week. He agreed.

I led Kay back to the front door. She told me that Mike felt horrible and, in the heat of the moment, had only wanted to scare Matteo out of jealousy. Mike had said he would stay away while Matteo was at my house and would stay elsewhere until otherwise said. I asked Kay, “What if he was asked to move?” She shook her head. “It doesn’t look like he would be forced to move.” I nodded, and she left.

I went back upstairs with a few more ice packs for Matteo, but he had fallen back to sleep. I gently replaced the ice packs on his side and put the melted ones back in the freezer. A quick glance at the clock showed it was almost seven, and I knew I needed to eat. I went back downstairs and heated up some of the food Kay had brought over.

Just as I was about to eat, I heard a knock on the front door. I opened it to see Vince, Vic, and Randy all standing there. “What are you guys doing here?” I asked, shocked.

Vince pushed the door open the rest of the way, and they all came inside. “Kay called me,” he said. “She said you guys needed some moral support.” They all hugged me, one by one. “How can we help?” Vic asked, and Randy nodded in agreement.

“That’s so sweet,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “Matteo is sleeping right now, and he needs to get dressed first and then you guys can all hang out.” They all nodded, and I went upstairs to tell Matteo that they were here.

“I’m so glad you guys are here,” Matteo said, his voice still a little groggy. “I need to get dressed first, then you can help me get downstairs, but I also need some more pain meds.”

I helped him get out of the bed and into a comfortable t-shirt and sweats. He was in too much pain to walk, so I asked the men if they could help him down the stairs. They carried him down carefully, his moans of pain quiet with each jarring step. They helped me get him some food and another pain med.

“You guys can take over now,” I said. “You can do whatever you need to do.” I looked at my phone and saw it was seven, and I knew I needed to get out for a little bit. “I'm going to the office.”

They all nodded, and I left, grateful for a moment to breathe. I got to the office just as Tara and Kay were leaving. “Hey!” Tara said, a look of surprise on her face. “What are you doing here?”

They both hugged me, and we all went back inside. We talked business for a bit, then they both left, giving me a final hug. I texted Vince. “I’m going to nap at the office for a bit and will be home in about thirty minutes.” He texted back, “Okay.”

I fell asleep quickly and woke up forty-five minutes later to a call from Vince. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice laced with panic.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said groggily. “I just overslept my alarm. I’m on my way now.” I heard him let out a breath of relief. “Okay, thank god. See you soon.”

When I got home, Vic and Randy were gone, as it had been overwhelming for Matteo. Vince stayed, though, and I sank into his arms, a sigh of relief escaping me. “Thank you,” I whispered.

He kissed the top of my head and gently pulled away. “Matteo ate really well,” he said. “And I took the liberty of making the bed in your room and moving him. Between the adrenaline p, the accident and everything culminating afterwards drained him. The bedding from the guest room is in the wash, and the second set of bedding is now on that bed.”

That's when I saw Vince's weekend bag by the front door. I pulled away and looked at him. “I’m here to help you and Matteo,” he said simply.

“I’m not sharing a bed with anyone but Matteo,” I said, my voice firm.

“I didn’t expect anything less,” he said, a gentle smile on his face.

“What do you need?” I asked, and he said he was fine. “I had great company, got to know Matteo, had wonderful food, one of your amazing hugs, and I’m happy you’re home safely,” he said. Before heading to the kitchen for water, I asked him, “Am I going to need to clean anything up?” He shook his head. “No, but there’s food ready for you in case you want some.” I thanked him, and he went to the guest room. I opened the freezer, and there was a pint of ice cream with a sticky note on it with my name. On the counter was a spoon, a napkin, and my extra-extra-extra large travel mug, filled with ice water. I smiled to myself, touched by the thoughtfulness.

I ate the ice cream, tossed the spoon into the sink, and the carton and napkin into the garbage. I grabbed my water and headed upstairs. I took out my contacts, stripped, and joined Matteo in my bed.

“Welcome back,” he told me as he pulled me closer. “Thank you for everything.” He kissed me gently then fell asleep.

A few hours later, he woke up screaming from a nightmare. The nightmare was living through the accident again. I called his primary doctor, who came over within a few minutes. Vince came running down the hall and sat with him as I put on a robe and went to get more water, ice packs, food, and pain meds for Matteo.

I let his doctor in and brought him upstairs, telling him everything on the way up. When we got to my room, Matteo was more calm. The doctor turned to Vince and asked, “Which medication did he just take?” Vince replied, “It was the Motrin.”

The doctor sighed in relief. He turned to Matteo and asked, “Would you like a mild sedative so you could sleep through the night?” Matteo said he would as long as it wouldn't interfere with the pain meds he was taking. The doctor said that he’d give Melatonin and left the bottle by him.

As the doctor headed toward the bedroom door, I thanked him for coming. He said it was his pleasure and that if anything changed for the worse, to bring Matteo to the ER and to call him immediately. I promised.

I went back upstairs. Matteo was falling asleep but was still in pain, so I grabbed the melted ice packs and switched them for frozen ones. I took my robe off and rejoined Matteo back in bed.

A soft knock on the partially open door, and Vince popped his head in. He offered to use the rocking chair in the corner while I slept in the guest room so I could get some sleep and he could stay with Matteo. I said that I'd be sleeping in the room and that he was more than welcome to sleep in the hallway so he could be closer in case Matteo woke up again. He nodded, then grabbed his sleeping bag from his car and came back, setting up everything in the hall.

In no time, Vince and Matteo were asleep, but I was wide awake. When dawn broke, I heard Vince get up, shower, get dressed, and make some coffee. He asked me, “How was the rest of the night?” I said that it was quiet but I was in need of sleep. He said that he would set up the pull-out couch downstairs so he could watch over Matteo while I slept. I thanked him.

As he was taking care of that, I got up, put my robe on, and started slowly taking down Matteo's meds (including the melatonin), the empty water bottles for recycling, and a few blankets.

Vince came back up, helped me wake Matteo. I helped Matteo in the bathroom to brush his teeth and use the restroom, and Vince helped him get downstairs. I joined them a moment later once Matteo was set on the pull-out couch.

I gently sat down next to Matteo and asked, “Do you mind Vince helping you out as I rest?” He said, “No, I don’t mind. Knowing the history between the two of you and that you’ll always be connected.”

I laughed quietly and gently kissed him. I turned to Vince and told him to wake me if he needed help. As I headed upstairs, I sent Vince Matteo’s primary doctor’s contact information. I took my robe off again and laid down. I was asleep in seconds.

A spark rekindled

I grabbed my purse from the sanctuary and left Mike, along with his two kids at the church. A half-mile into my walk home, I heard a voice call out, "Hey! Get in! It's too hot to be walking!" I looked up to see my neighbor from across the street, Deb, waving me over.

"Are you sure?" I asked, grateful for the unexpected offer.

"Absolutely," she said, gesturing to the open passenger door of her SUV. "Hop in. Let me get you home."

I got in, and she didn't ask much. As we drove, she glanced over at me. "Are you doing okay? You seem a little rattled."

"I'm fine, really," I said, offering her a smile. "Just a long morning."

She nodded and pulled into her driveway. As we got out of the car, I thanked her again. "Thanks so much for the ride, Deb. You were a lifesaver."

"You're welcome," she said simply. "I'm just glad to help."

As soon as I was inside my house, I texted Mike. "I'm home safe."

His response came a moment later: "Thanks for letting me know."

I went upstairs to change when my phone rang. It was Matteo.

"Hi," I said, picking up.

"You're not going to believe what happened," he began. "I walked into my house recently and found my now former fiancée fucking his cousin. The engagement is over."

"Oh my god, Matteo," I said, my voice full of sympathy. "I'm so incredibly sorry to hear that. That's just awful."

"Thanks," he said quietly. "It's a mess."

"Are you free this afternoon?" he asked. "I'd love to come over if you are. I'll bring some food and wine."

"Yes, I'm free," I replied. "Come on over."

"I'll be there in about an hour," he said.

"Sounds good," I said, and ended the call.

I finished changing and tidied up the house a bit. I knew Matteo was fastidious with his appearance and grooming, so I knew he'd be a little longer than an hour. I'm appreciative that he takes care of himself, and I knew he'd want to look his best, even after a day like this.

A little over an hour later, the doorbell rang. I opened the door to see Matteo standing there, looking exhausted but still put together. He leaned down to kiss me gently on the lips and then kicked his shoes off. As I was closing the door, I glanced across the street and saw Mike looking at me from his front door. I immediately shut the door.

I followed Matteo into the kitchen as he brought in the fast food and wine. "I figured fast food was one of the ways to help me," he said, setting the bags on the counter.

I laughed. "And what else do you think would help?" I asked.

He turned bright red, winked at me, and said, "I was hoping you could help with that part."

"I'd be happy to," I said with a laugh.

We ate the fast food and drank some of the wine, which honestly, didn't go with the food. As we ate, he told me the full story: after a particularly long day of teaching and coaching, he walked in on his now former fiancée fucking his cousin—the same cousin that was going to be his best man.

"That's just unbelievably terrible."

My heart ached for him. The reality of his pain hung in the air, heavy and raw. I slowly set my wine glass down on the coffee table, the clink of glass on wood echoing in the quiet room. Before I could say another word, Matteo leaned over, his eyes searching mine. His hand cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing away an unfallen tear that I hadn’t even realized was there.

He kissed me, but it wasn't the tentative, gentle kiss he'd given me at the door. This one was deeper, more assured. It was a kiss of shared comfort and a silent promise of something more. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against mine, our breaths mingling. The weight of the moment was profound. The fast food, the bad wine, the devastating story he'd just told me—it all felt like background noise to this single, intense moment.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice husky. "I shouldn't have..."

"Don't," I said, my voice barely a whisper. I reached up and tangled my fingers in his hair, pulling his lips back to mine. This wasn't about comforting a friend anymore; it was about two people finding a sanctuary in each other's sadness. The kiss deepened, and the fast food was forgotten. The wine was forgotten. His ex-fiancée was forgotten. Everything was forgotten but this.

After a long while, we broke apart. He didn't pull away completely, just shifted so he could look into my eyes. "Is it okay?" he asked.

I gave a small, genuine smile. "It's more than okay," I said. "It's exactly what I needed."

He took my hand, lacing our fingers together. A soft smile broke across his face, the first one I'd seen all night that wasn't tinged with pain. "Me too," he said.

I looked at him, and in that quiet moment, a different kind of thought formed in my head. "Do you want to go upstairs?" I asked.

He gave me a simple, solid nod. "Yes."

We began to gather the remains of our lunch. I picked up the half-empty bottle of wine and the two glasses, while Matteo grabbed the fast food bags. "I've got this," he said. “I brought the food and the wine….I’ll clean up.”

“Thank you,” I said.

We quickly brought everything into the kitchen. Then, hand in hand, we walked upstairs to my bedroom. As soon as we entered the room, our clothes began to come off, and soon we were both naked. I wasn't entirely sure if he was truly in the mood for sex, given the emotional turmoil he'd just shared with me. But his eyes, full of fire, and the way he had just kissed me told a different story. It was clear from his actions that he was looking for more than just comfort.

We both got on the bed, and our lips met in a passionate kiss. After a few moments of kissing and our hands roaming the other’s body, Matteo pulled back just enough to look at me, his eyes full of fire. He then gently moved to spread my legs. He leaned down and began to eat my pussy, using his lips, tongue, and teeth to devour me. "Oh, God, Matteo..." I moaned, as I climaxed repeatedly on his tongue, my hands clutching his hair as my hips bucked. "Yes! Oh, yes!" I cried. Just when I didn't think I could cum again, I did, my final cry echoing in the room. After that last, shuddering climax, he rose and quickly lined up his massive dick to my pussy. In one swift, forceful thrust, his dick was deep inside of me. My breath hitched. His size was overwhelming, a delightful ache that filled me completely. He held still for a moment, letting us both adjust to the sensation, his eyes locked on mine. "God, you feel so good," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. "So unbelievably good."

He began to move, slowly at first, a long, deep pull and then a return. "Oh," I gasped, my fingers digging into his back. "Matteo..." The pace quickened, becoming a steady rhythm, a primal dance of our bodies moving together. My hips rose to meet each of his thrusts, and I could feel my release building once more. "Don't stop," I pleaded, a breathless whisper that he seemed to understand instinctively. His pace intensified, and the room was filled with the sounds of our breathing.

My body convulsed with another climax, then another, each one more powerful than the last. He groaned, a deep sound in the back of his throat, his body tensing with the force of his own release. My legs clamped around his waist as he pushed in one final, deep thrust and poured himself into me. We both collapsed, breathless and spent our bodies entwined in the soft sheets.

After a long while, our breathing returned to normal. We slowly disentangled ourselves from one another and began to get dressed. Matteo looked at his watch, a sigh escaping his lips. "It's late," he said softly. "I still need to prepare for teaching and coaching tomorrow. I dread Mondays."

We headed downstairs. Matteo grabbed his phone, wallet, and keys. I walked him to the front door. He'd opened the door and neither one of us noticed that Mike was there walking from his SUV to his front door. My door opening caught Mike's attention.

Matteo bent down to kiss me gently and I gladly leaned into the kiss. We heard someone clear their throat and we both looked to see who it was and that's when we noticed it was Mike.

"Mike," Matteo said, stepping in front of me as if to protect me.

"Matteo," Mike replied, a slight smirk on his face. "Didn't expect to see you here."

"I was just visiting. I should get going," Matteo said smoothly, keeping his body positioned between us.

He turned back to me and his hands cupped my face. He kissed me a bit longer this time, a deeper and more meaningful kiss that felt like a promise. "Thanks for this afternoon, doll. We need to do this again."

I smiled at him. "We do." I reached for his hand. "Text me when you get home."

He squeezed my hand. "I promise." He then turned, got in his car, and drove away.

Mike began to walk over to me, but I cut him off. "Don't. I don't want to hear it."

"I thought we had something," he started to say, his voice low.

I cut him off again. "We did, until you decided you had the right to judge how I live my life." I turned and walked back into my house, shutting the door in Mike's face.

It wasn't the most adult thing to do by shutting the door in Mike's face, but he wasn't going to ruin the afternoon that I had with Matteo. Sure, I felt bad that his former fiancée was found fucking his cousin but I didn't regret the fast food, mediocre wine and the great sex we had.

I was slightly happy that Matteo was single again because despite how he and I ended, I still had some lingering feelings for him that I hadn't let myself acknowledge until now. Our past had been messy, and the breakup had stung, but this afternoon felt like it was wiping the slate clean. The candid conversation, the easy intimacy, and the incredible sex we had just shared made me realize that the old feelings weren't just a memory; they were a spark ready to ignite. I found myself wondering, cautiously and excitedly, what it would be like to actually explore this connection again and see where things could go this time.

Sunlit summer moving

The sun slipped through my blinds, brushing my face with warmth that pulled me reluctantly from sleep. I stretched, the scent of summer air drifting through the open window, carrying hints of freshly mowed grass and the faint aroma of the neighbor's hydrangeas, plump and blue like little clouds. I stayed for a moment in the soft morning light, my mind replaying a brief text conversation from the night before—a simple "See you tomorrow?" followed by Mike's equally simple "Looking forward to it."

I had never anticipated a sequel to our story. We had been a chapter of my life I’d assumed was finished, a beautifully written but self-contained volume I would occasionally pull from the shelf to reread, but never one I expected to continue. His return to the neighborhood, after all this time, felt less like a new beginning and more like a ghost suddenly sitting down at my kitchen counter.

I moved toward the kitchen, the cool wood floors a welcome shock under my feet. The first thing I did was set about breakfast, a ritual I found comfort in. I laid five strips of bacon on the skillet, listening to the happy, greasy song as the pan filled with sizzling fat. I then carefully cracked three fresh eggs into a bowl, whisking them until they were a uniform pale yellow. The scent of bacon filled the room, and I added the eggs to the pan, stirring them slowly until they formed soft, buttery curds. After removing the bacon and eggs, I pressed a few slices of bread into the hot grease, letting them crisp up and soak in the rich flavor. I didn’t bother setting the table; instead, I stood at the counter, fork in hand, savoring each bite. It was the small domesticity of a life I had built for myself, piece by piece. But thoughts of Mike crept in, uninvited but not unwelcome. I thought of our conversation yesterday, the way he smiled when he mentioned his SUV, a small, wry curve of his lips that was exactly how I remembered it. He’d seemed… different. Older, maybe. More settled. The chaos that had always swirled around him, the restless energy, seemed to have been replaced by a quiet, determined calm. It was a good look on him.

By the time I finished, I had decided I’d walk over to Mike’s to see if he wanted any help with settling in. I didn’t bother grabbing keys or my wallet; the house was only a short walk, barely a couple hundred feet through the summer-warmed grass to his new front door. My feet carried me over the familiar path. I could see his large, dark SUV parked out front, its back hatch a gaping maw as he adjusted a few things inside. He was wearing an old t-shirt from a local brewery we used to frequent, and my chest gave a little, unexpected flutter.

“Hey,” I said lightly, keeping my tone casual, as if seeing him again after all these years was no big deal. “Need a hand with anything?”

Mike looked up, and a wave of relief and a wide smile crossed his face. “Actually, yeah. If you don’t mind, a few boxes from the garage could use another set of hands. They’re a bit heavier than I thought.”

We moved at a steady rhythm, carrying boxes from the SUV to the garage and then to the house. Nothing chaotic, nothing rushed—just two people falling into a comfortable cooperation. The air was thick with the scent of cardboard and Mike’s understated cologne. We worked in a comfortable silence, broken only by the sound of our feet on the pavement, until he finally broke it.

“You haven’t changed at all,” he said, his voice a low rumble. He leaned against the open hatch of the SUV, wiping sweat from his brow.

“I could say the same,” I replied, taking a gulp of water from the bottle he’d handed me. “You still can’t lift more than two boxes at a time without complaining.”

He laughed, the sound warm and familiar. “You’ve got the lighter boxes, obviously,” he joked as I lifted a particularly heavy one labeled ‘BOOKS.’

“I’m saving you from injury,” I said, grinning. “You can thank me later.”

“Oh, I will,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “I’m a big believer in showing my gratitude.”

Once the boxes were inside, I paused to catch my breath and noticed a photo lying on a small table near the entryway. I picked it up carefully, my fingers tracing the outline of a simple wooden frame. It was Mike and two children. A girl with wide, curious eyes and a boy with a mischievous smile, both with a smattering of freckles across their noses. They were standing on a beach, waves lapping at their ankles. He saw me studying it.

“Those are Sydney and Dixon,” he said quietly, his voice softening. “Eight and six.”

I nodded, keeping my expression neutral, but inside a complicated mix of emotions roiled. We had already established my feelings about kids, and Mike respected that. My decision not to have them wasn’t something I ever hid, and it had been one of the many reasons we had drifted apart all those years ago. It was a chasm that was too wide to bridge. And yet, seeing this photo, seeing the clear love in his eyes as he looked at them, a small, sharp pang of something—jealousy? regret?—pierced through my carefully constructed composure. I didn’t press him for more. The unspoken understanding between us was enough.

“You know, I’m feeling pretty grimy,” I said, setting the photo back down, the image of his family still seared into my mind. “How about we take a shower break? I’ll head back to my place, and you can take a quick one here. Then we can do lunch at my place?”

He agreed with a nod. “Sounds good. I’m starving.”

I headed home to shower, and the cool water felt like a balm on my skin after the morning's work. I put on a fresh, comfortable t-shirt and shorts. Feeling refreshed, I returned to my kitchen and laid out the ingredients for sandwiches—fresh bread, deli meats, a platter of different cheeses, a bowl of chips, and a couple cans of soda. Mike showed up a few minutes later, looking equally refreshed. His eyes lit up. “The full spread,” he said, grabbing a slice of turkey. “You always did know how to do lunch right.”

I got to work assembling mine while Mike did the same, stacking his sandwich impossibly high. The morning had been warm, and we both appreciated the simple pleasure of sitting at the table, eating, and chatting. Conversation drifted from light teasing about our work pace to observations about the neighborhood, finally landing on memories from years ago. We talked about a disastrous camping trip where our tent collapsed in a downpour and a time we got lost in a city we’d only been to once. The shared memories felt like a language only we understood, a secret shorthand we had never forgotten.

“You haven’t changed much,” Mike said with a smirk as I laughed at one of his jokes.

“I could say the same,” I replied, taking a bite of my sandwich. “You’re still the only person who can make me laugh so hard I can’t breathe.”

Lunch passed easily, accompanied by laughter and stories neither of us had told in years. Afterward, we returned to his house, the boxes and tasks waiting patiently for us. The afternoon was a blur of unpacking, arranging furniture, and a surprising amount of cleaning. We hung up a large, framed map of the world in his living room, something I remembered he’d always wanted. We worked side by side, our hands occasionally brushing, a spark of electricity passing between us each time. The rhythm was easy and natural, as if we had never stopped.

By mid-afternoon, I pulled out my phone and texted Aditi about bringing dinner over to my new neighbor’s house later.

“Cute?” she asked, a single word that carried a world of meaning.

“Yes,” I typed back quickly, a little surprised by the honesty of my own admission.

“Okay, I’ll bring it by,” she responded, and I knew she’d be full of questions.

We continued working, moving boxes, setting up furniture, and arranging things inside the house, all with a rhythm that felt both productive and strangely comforting. Around 6:30, the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, and Aditi asked what time she should deliver dinner.

“7:15,” I replied.

“Okay, see you then,” she texted back.

I turned to Mike. “Dinner’s coming at 7:15. I say we stop around then so we can both get a shower and get set up. I’ll go home to shower, and you can take one here, and I'll come back afterward for dinner.”

He agreed with a nod. “Sounds like a plan. I’m just about to call it a day anyway.”

I headed home to shower while he took a quick shower at his house. The air of the early evening was cooler now, but still comfortably summer-warm, and I felt refreshed afterward. I put on a simple sundress and tied my hair back, feeling a little self-conscious. This wasn’t a date. It was just two old friends having dinner. Still, I wanted to look nice.

Returning to Mike’s place at seven, we began setting up the kitchen with paper plates and plastic utensils in preparation for Aditi’s arrival. He had a brand new coffee machine, and he made us both a fresh cup. “I’m still working out the kinks,” he said, a note of pride in his voice. “But I think it’s pretty good.”

He was right. It was a perfect cup of coffee, rich and smooth, and as we sipped it, the doorbell rang. Mike and I answered together. He invited Aditi in, and she brought in the bags of food. She gave me a knowing look and a hug, then turned to Mike with a bright smile. “You must be the famous Mike,” she said.

“I don’t know about famous,” he said, laughing. “But I’m Mike. It’s nice to meet you, Aditi. And thank you so much for the dinner.”

I offered her money, but she declined politely, insisting that helping was enough. We thanked her, walked her to the door, and wished her a good night. As she left, she gave me one last glance over her shoulder, a silent promise to get all the details later.

Back at the kitchen table, we served ourselves dinner. Conversation shifted naturally to church. Mike asked which church I attended, and I extended an invitation for him to join me the next day. He accepted readily.

“Sounds good,” he said, smiling. “I was thinking about finding a place to go, but I wasn’t sure where to start. I’d love to join you.”

The rest of the evening was easy, comfortable, filled with small details: the clinking of utensils, the shared enjoyment of food, and the quiet pleasure of being in each other’s company. We laughed, teased, and talked about everything from local events to our shared memories of the past. There was no pretense, no awkwardness, just a sense of returning to a place we had always belonged.

We finished dinner, and Mike took the empty plates to the trash. “You know,” he said, turning to me, “I forgot how good it felt to just… be with you. No pressure. No games. Just us.”

My heart did another of its little flutters. “Yeah,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “Me too.”

As the night drew on, I felt a sense of ease and familiarity, a reminder of the deep connection that had never fully disappeared between us. The house was finally quiet, the boxes a silent testament to a day of hard work. Sydney and Dixon were absent, and that suited the flow of the evening perfectly—just Mike and me, rediscovering our rhythm together, sharing a meal, and talking like we had all the time in the world. As I stood up to excuse myself, Mike reached out and gently took my hand, pulling me just a little closer. He leaned in and kissed me, and the kiss lasted for what felt like hours, though it was only a few minutes—a slow, tender reconnection that spoke of all the years that had passed and the possibility of a future. When I finally pulled away, my heart was racing. "Good night, Mike," I whispered, and then I turned and walked out the door.