I didn’t cry.
Not when Sal hugged me like he was trying to memorize my bones. Not when Rob whispered, “You’re our heartbeat,” into my hair. Not even when John slipped that folded note into my palm and kissed my forehead like he used to when I was five and scared of thunder.
I didn’t cry.
But I wanted to.
The jet behind me gleamed like a lie. Luca’s family was already onboard, sipping champagne and pretending this was just another trip. Sam and Mike were waiting too, quiet and watchful. Luca stood a few feet away, giving me space. He knows me well enough to know I needed this moment with my family before I became someone else entirely.
Sal’s eyes met mine. That look—God, that look. It’s the one he gave me the day he taught me how to shoot. The day he told me I’d have to be tougher than
