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“You are a good man,” I tell him firmly, looking at him over my shoulder. “You’ve done more for me in the short time I’ve known you than anyone in my family…”
My voice cracks, and I close my eyes, curling in on myself at the thought of my family.
“You don’t have to tell me everything,” Armando whispers. “But I need to ask some questions, okay? I need to know how I can keep you safe.”
I freeze, not wanting to relive everything that brought me to this point. Armando leans back on the couch and readjusts my position so I’m sitting sideways on his lap. On instinct, I relax against his chest and tuck my head into his neck. My gentle giant cradles me in his arms, combing his fingers through my hair.
“I know, sweet girl,” he coos. “I know it hurts. Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” I whisper into his skin.
“Let me in. Just a little, Allegra. I promise to protect all the pieces of your heart.”
“You don’t even know me,” I remind him. My voice is so quiet I don’t know if he heard me.
“That’s not true,” he counters, his tone matching mine. “I know you’re brave as hell to get out of whatever situation you were in. And we’ve established how strong and selfless you are. We’ve also been over how beautiful you are, inside and out.”
God, his words pour over me like a calming salve to my broken, battered heart.
“Okay,” I finally murmur, nodding once. “I’ll answer some questions.”
“Good girl,” he rasps, pressing his lips to my temple.
My skin sizzles whenever he calls me that, but I try pushing those thoughts aside and focusing on the questions.
“You told me earlier you were running from a bad man.”
I nod, bracing myself for the next part.
“Who hurt you, Allegra? Who was chasing you?”
“My uncle,” I whisper.
“Was he the one who left bruises on your skin?”
I nod, folding in on myself to be as small as possible.
“Jesus,” he grunts. “And he’s still looking for you?”
“He’ll never stop,” I admit, my voice barely more than a whimper.
“I’ve got you,” Armando reminds me, smoothing his hand up and down my back while holding me close. “He’ll never hurt you again, angel. I promise.”
We sit in silence for a few moments while Armando absorbs the little information I’ve given him. Eventually, he peels me off his chest so we’re face to face.
“Can you tell me what happened this morning? What sent you running?”
I take a deep breath and look up at the ceiling, willing the tears to recede until later when I’m alone in bed. Armando has already wiped away too many of my tears to count.
“He was always angry,” I whisper, still unable to look Armando in the eye. “He became my guardian when I was eleven. I never knew my dad, and my mom struggled with numerous addictions until she finally succumbed to an overdose. I almost ended up in a group home, but a lawyer found a will my mom drew up after I was born and named my uncle, Tommy, my legal guardian. He’s hated me ever since.”
“I’m so sorry,” Armando says, his breath tickling my lips. “Was it your uncle who gave you that scar, sweetheart?”
The question surprises me, but what shocks me more is that I want to tell him. I finally look into Armando’s multi-colored eyes, finding deep sympathy and understanding in their depths. It gives me the courage to continue.
“We had a fight,” I whisper, swallowing down the emotion clogging my throat. “I was thirteen, and he forgot to pick me up from middle school. I walked home and interrupted him with a woman, and… it wasn’t pretty. She left, which sent my uncle into a rage. He pulled a knife on me, and I thought… I thought he was going to kill me,” I say in a rush before my voice cracks.
“Jesus Christ,” Armando growls, tension coursing through his muscles.
