“I would fight to the death for you, Len. You were—” He smiled at me before correcting himself. “You are my everything. My soul mate. My best friend. My enemy.”

I laughed again and watched as he blinked at me, eyes glittering even more.

“And with that comment, Peter reminded me of everything I had seen in your face when you’d been born. That I would do anything for you. That you were a supernova. And look at what I’d been doing to you. How could I bottle you up and decide your future for you? How could I tell you what to be? I wanted the world for you. I want the world for you. And that’s why I stopped telling you that this place was yours since then. That’s why I made you get jobs outside of here. That’s why I made you get a degree and I didn’t let you work full-time here until Mo came along.

“Because I wanted to give you a chance to be whoever you wanted to be. Do whatever you wanted to do. All I want, Lenny, is for you to be happy, because that’s what matters to me at the end of the day. That’s what I lose sleep over; that’s what I will always lose sleep over. I want you to be happy in whatever way that is, being yourself the whole time. Do you understand me?”

At some point, the need to gulp in breath was making it hard to breathe. My cheeks were wet. But somehow, someway, I managed to ask him in a voice that was barely intelligible, “But Maio House is our family legacy.”

The old fart rolled his eyes even as he smiled. “Maio House is our family business, Len. You, Mo, you two are our family legacy.”

Oh hell.

Oh bloody hell.

I was so grateful right then that this wasn’t the man who had raised me. That this sweet, nice grandpa wasn’t the one I had grown up knowing.

Because he would have killed me with his sweetness, with his kindness, and I never would have grown up to be the person I was if this was what I’d grown up with.

More fucking tears came out of my eyes as I slowly started to realize what he was trying to tell me. What he was doing. For me. For Mo.

A million times in my life, I had thought that I couldn’t love my grandfather more than I did right then, and every single time that was proved to be a lie. Just like it was in this case. Right then.

And he kept on going.

“I love the gym, loved running it, loved having you there with me all the time. I love Peter being there. But it’s just a business, Len. It’s four walls and some concrete that could disappear in a day, in a flood, in a hurricane or a tornado. It’s a part of me, you, and Peter, but it’s not everything.” He reached up to wipe under his eye with the side of his index finger. “Some people are lucky to find one person in the world to love. Some people are even luckier to find more than one person to love and be loved back. Some don’t find anyone. If you find someone, you don’t let them run away. We love them the way we need to love them. The way they need to be loved. And we don’t give up on that. We don’t throw that kind of thing away or push it to a better time, because there is no better time. If you love that kid the way you say you do, you don’t give that up. You fight for it, you stick with it, and you go for it. You keep it.”

I felt like a zombie as I pulled myself into a standing position and then draped myself around my grandpa, giving him the tightest fucking hug and feeling him give me the tightest fucking hug right back.

I could barely understand what the hell I was saying as I muttered, “Are you telling me to go? To go be with him across the fucking world and leave you?” I hiccupped. “How the hell could you tell me that? How could you tell me to not be with you and see you and…”

Those strong, safe arms—the strongest, safest arms I had ever known for the majority of my life—didn’t let me down. They cradled me. They loved me. They adored me right then, as my grandpa said, “I’m telling you to go live your life, Len. I’m telling you to go be happy. That’s what I’m telling you to do.” Those hands of his palmed my face and pulled me back just far enough away so he could look right into my eyes. “And who the hell says you’re leaving us behind? Jonah invited us to come along too. My bag has been packed for weeks.”

Chapter 24

9:30 p.m.

Me: Are my messages

coming through?

9:31 p.m.

Me: Our flight just landed.

9:32 p.m.

Jonah: Yes : )

9:33 p.m:

Jonah: Awesome. Take your time.

Jonah: Can’t wait to see you.

Twenty-five hours after leaving Houston, with six suitcases between the three of us and a promise from Peter that he would be flying out right after his next big fight, Grandpa Gus, Mo and myself went through immigration, baggage claim, and customs, half-delusional but happy.

With our brand-new, very special visas courtesy of Jonah’s rugby club’s connections.

The fear and the worry hadn’t left me totally in the three weeks leading up to our trip. Three weeks that had been a mad rush to expedite a passport for Mo, get our most important shit together, and train the assistant manager as best as we could. I was leaving almost everything behind, and I’d almost cried once on the flight right after we’d boarded. Almost.

But as I pushed the trolley with our luggage through those glass doors that led to Arrivals, with Grandpa trailing behind me with a Mo who was so over all of this travel bullshit, all it took was one look at the head towering over everyone else’s in the crowd of people waiting around for that fear and worry to ease away.

Because Jonah was there, surrounded by a large group, signing an autograph while also trying to duck into a selfie with another person, but the second he spotted us, the small, polite smile on his face exploded. The man I loved lit up. His mouth moved with what I could only imagine was an apology, and then he was coming for us with that bright, beaming face full of love and excitement and relief.

Jonah Collins was there for us, like he always would be.

Epilogue

I wasn’t going to cry.

I wasn’t going to cry.

The hand holding my right one gave it a squeeze a second before Jonah, knowing exactly what was going through my head like he always did, whispered, “You’re not going to cry.”

Damn it.

I pressed my lips together and stared out at the endless turquoise water in front of us, making my eyes go wide so that they wouldn’t backstab me and do something I had promised myself—and Grandpa Gus—I wouldn’t do.

I wasn’t going to cry, damn it. I wasn’t.

Curling my toes into the soft sand beneath my feet, I took a deep breath in and let it back out as I gave Jonah’s hand its own squeeze. In return, his thumb swept over the back of my hand, his fingertips even more callused now than they had been back when we’d first met. When he’d first started to hold my hand… twenty-two years ago.

Twenty-two years ago.

Goddamn time had flown by.

That’s what happens when you’re having fun, Grandpa Gus would have said.

And just thinking that made my throat close up, made a choke catch right at the base of my throat, and it made my eyes want to water again. My heart started beating faster, my fingertips tingled, and it took every single ounce of discipline in my body not to bring my hands up to my face and lose my shit. I had fucking promised, and I wasn’t going to go back on my word. Instead, I made myself keep my eyes forward on that blue water that hadn’t changed in the least bit since the last time we’d been to this beach so long ago.