Page 75 of Unravel Me

Something surges inside me, some silly hope, and before I can think better of it, I type a text to Storm.

"Hey, I was just thinking… did that Star Daniels you mentioned happen to be twenty-two? My father’s name was Cole."

The reply comes quickly.

"Oh, nice to hear from you. Alex has been freaking out these past few days. I’m glad you’re okay, though it sucks that the True Mate thing is still unresolved.

Yes, the guy whose TM I found is twenty-two, and according to the paperwork, his father’s name was Cole. I probably shouldn’t do this, but I have a picture of him here. Take a look yourself. There’s definitely a resemblance! Maybe it would be cool if you two met?"

I blink, staring at the photo as it loads. A moment later, a face appears on the screen… a young, blond omega, very pretty but with a rather cold expression and navy-blue eyes. His features look fairly similar to mine. Obviously, we aren't identical, but there's something very familiar in our faces.

I hesitate over what to write back. I remember the traumatic day I went to their house…

"You know, our father chased me away when I went there that one time. But who knows, maybe… he’s different?"

My text remains unanswered.

Maybe Storm is busy?

I wait, staring at the screen, then sigh.

Should I let myself get my hopes up? Star is a stranger. He has his own life. He'd probably reject me like our father did, get pissed off that some random guy was showing up out of nowhere and bothering him.

The pain of that old rejection cuts through me all over again. Did my father ever tell Star that this scared kid standing on their porch was his brother?

I lift my eyes from the screen to stare out the window again, where Silvio is offering cookies to Stefano.

The two older men seem to have a wonderful relationship. Their brotherly closeness and affection might bring a smile to someone less wounded than me.

But I watch the warmth between the Santoros with bitterness and envy.

The way they support each other, care about each other's problems, love and embrace one another, makes the wound in my heart throb as if a splinter were lodged deep inside it.

The truth is, besides Alex and Tommy, I don't have anyone. I'm a kid from a broken family… who spent his whole life drifting from one difficult situation into another, constantly navigating between being disappointed and hurt.

Maybe that's exactly why I always dreamed of the exact opposite of what I had—a fairy tale? A beautiful family, loving parents, a good husband, and a house full of children.

All picture-perfect.

For years I believed building this dream would somehow stitch together the wounds inside my heart, but with Mark it seemed impossible.

And still today, my life feels like it's on unsteady ground, without safety or prospects, surrounded by mysterious strangers, lost in a tangle of secrets and things left unsaid.

With my heart heavy and aching, I pull out my phone again and open the photo Alex sent me an hour ago, showing my son on his little tricycle.

"Tommy," I whisper, tears gathering in my eyes. "My poor little boy… what kind of future will I be able to build for you? Will I ever be able to give you what I never had? The warmth of family, siblings, a father's love, uncles, grandparents? I just don't know if I'll succeed."

Frozen in the photo, Tommy's face is lit up with a wide smile, his pale golden curls tousled by the wind.

I choke out a quiet sob and lift my eyes from my phone when I hear giggles coming from the terrace.

Their guest, Stefano, is telling some funny story about one of the town's residents.

I let out a deep sigh and turn my eyes away from the idyllic picture of the Santoro family outside the window. I don't have the strength to torture myself any longer with painful memories, so I return to the nest, craving its calming energy.

Soon, I curl up inside it again, letting it soothe me the way it always does. The familiar comfort finally puts a stop to my mind's masochistic urge to keep reopening my old wounds.

And I drift into a light nap.