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‘I don’t trustmyself.’
He thrust the truth into the air pulsing between them, and she caught it.
Her eyes widened. ‘Tell me why?’ she urged, and his heart thudded with his mistakes.
It all came out in a flood. ‘I was trapped in a storm once—by a fallen tree. I couldn’t get home for three days. I was stuck. Too far from the house, too far from the village to call for help.’
‘What about your mother? Didn’t she come looking for you?’
He shook his head.
Brown eyes narrowed below arched brows. ‘How old were you?’
‘Eleven...twelve...’ he answered absently, his chest heavy with the memory. ‘I’d had to walk through a pathless tree line to get to the next village. We needed things, and no one in my village had any odd jobs for me. It started with drizzle. Then came the thunder. The winds...’
‘What happened?’
‘I fell, and so did a tree.’
‘And it trapped you? The tree?’
‘For three days.’
‘Were you hurt?’
‘It wasn’t broken bones I was worried about. And it wasn’t the hunger. Not even the rain.’
‘What was it?’ she asked huskily.
‘I couldn’t get back to—’
‘To your mum?’ she asked.
‘I was found three days later. By Matteo the village bar-owner. There was devastationeverywhere. The tree...it saved me. Sheltered me when no one knew I was missing. I had no broken bones...was only suffering from exposure. Shock. Bruises. But my mother—’
He tried to hold it at bay. The visceral memory that was flooding his every sense.
‘When I was carried back to my mother she was in a stupor. She hadn’t eaten. We both went to the hospital that day. Airlifted. I will never forgive myself for many things, but not making it home in that storm—I couldn’t look after her.’
Horror filled her eyes. ‘You could havedied, Raffaele.’
‘And so could my mother. One day later—even an hour later...’
‘No,youcould be dead.’
‘I am alive,’ he corrected.
And the biggest punch in the gut was the memory that came next. A memory he wasn’t ready to share.Couldn’tshare. Because then she would know that the storm hadn’t been the only time he’d failed his mother. Failed to be there for her when she needed him.
And the next time had been fatal.
A tear rolled down her cheek and he closed his eyes. Shut out the pity he did not deserve.
Her fingers feathered his jaw. Gentle. Soft. He released her elbows. Pushed away her tenderness.
‘Look at me, Raffaele...’ she breathed. ‘Open your eyes.’
He did, and met the innocence of hers. The pity.
