Smetti di lasciarmi

Chapter One

As night fell, the cold moon hung high in the sky. The bright moonlight fell on the ancient castle on the edge of the city, casting a mysterious silver veil around it. Emily stood on the balcony, looking at the forest in the distance, and felt a chill rising from the bottom of her heart. Since moving to this castle, her life has become bizarre and mysterious.
The cold wind in October swept across her bare shoulders, bringing a shudder. Emily subconsciously wrapped her woolen shawl tightly around her, but she couldn't feel any warmth. This castle seems to be always cold, just like its mysterious owner Lucas Black, exuding an inaccessible atmosphere.
"Miss Emily," suddenly, a low voice sounded behind her, "You'll catch a cold if you're still outside so late."
She turned around and saw Lucas standing at the balcony door. The moonlight outlined his tall figure. He was wearing a dark silk shirt, and the collar vaguely revealed his strong chest. The amber eyes flickered strangely in the darkness, as if they could see through her soul.
"Mr. Black," Emily whispered, trying to hide the trembling in her voice, "I'm just admiring the moonlight."
Lucas took a step forward, but suddenly stopped. Emily noticed that his body stiffened instantly, and his nostrils fluttered slightly, as if he was sniffing something. His expression became solemn, and a glimmer of wildness flashed in his eyes, but was quickly suppressed.
"Please go in," his voice was hoarser than usual, "It's not safe here."
Just then, a cold night breeze swept across the balcony, bringing a faint smell of rust. Emily saw that Lucas's fingers were almost pinched into the stone railing, and his knuckles were white. She couldn't help but take a step back, her heartbeat accelerated.
"I thought this castle was the safest place," she whispered, "after all, you are here."
Lucas let out an almost inaudible growl, "Some danger, Miss Emily, is much closer than you think." His eyes looked unusually sharp in the moonlight, "especially on a full moon night."
Suddenly, a wolf howl came from the distant forest, shrill and long. Emily was surprised to find that Lucas' pupils shrank in an instant and turned into vertical pupils like a beast, but the fleeting change made her wonder if it was just an illusion caused by the moonlight.
Just then, a cold breath passed by her from behind, accompanied by a chuckle. Emily turned around and saw only a dark shadow flashing in the corner of the balcony. When she looked back again, Lucas had come to her side, with a hand gently on her shoulder.
"I'll take you back to your room," he said, with an unquestionable commanding tone in his voice. Emily noticed that his palms were surprisingly hot, in sharp contrast to the chill of the castle.
Walking in the dark corridor of the castle, Emily could feel Lucas' presence, he walked behind her like a silent guardian. Moonlight poured in through the Gothic stained glass windows, casting mottled shadows on the floor.
"Good night, Miss Emily," Lucas whispered in front of her door, "Remember, no matter what sound you hear, don't leave the room tonight."
"Why?" Emily asked subconsciously.
Lucas was silent for a moment, his eyes looked deep and dangerous in the moonlight, "Because the moonlight tonight is too beautiful, it will always wake up something that shouldn't wake up."
When the door closed behind her, Emily leaned against the door, her heartbeat still alarmingly fast. She could hear Lucas's footsteps gradually fading away, but she seemed to hear the sound of wings flapping outside the window. She walked to the window and looked out through the glass.
In the moonlit courtyard, she saw a figure standing by the fountain. The man looked up at her window, and the moonlight illuminated his pale marble face - it was Draco, with a mysterious smile on his lips and a dangerous light in his eyes. When Emily blinked, his figure had disappeared, as if he had never appeared. Emily lay trembling on the bed, listening to the wolf howling outside the window. She knew that she had fallen into a world full of dangers, and this was just the beginning. On this moonlit night, her fate was closely linked to two mysterious and dangerous beings, and there was no turning back.

Chapter Two

In the dead of night, Emily lay in bed, the faces of Lucas and Draco appeared in her mind. She could not resist the deep attraction, but she also knew that she was caught in a dangerous vortex. She knew that the confrontation between the two men was a life-and-death hostility, and she was just a pawn in their war. A corner of her heart reminded her to escape, but the deeper desire pulled her to stay in this mysterious castle, looking forward to the unknown encounter.

        Just as she was about to fall asleep, a slight knock on the window interrupted the silence. Emily opened her eyes, and the moonlight poured into the room through the curtains, making the corners of the room particularly dark. She sat up subconsciously, trembling slightly and walked to the window. When she opened the curtains, a figure was standing in front of her, cold and elegant.

        It was Draco.

        "Sorry, I scared you, Emily." His low voice was frivolous and indifferent, as if every word revealed his unfathomable darkness. His eyes were like two flames in the abyss, locking onto her with an irresistible force.

        "How... are you here?" Emily's heartbeat quickened, and her hands unconsciously clenched a corner of the curtain. She knew she should be scared at this moment, but Draco's unique charm made it hard for her to resist.

        Draco did not answer her question, but slowly approached, lowered his head and whispered in her ear: "You know why I'm here, Emily. You've never really been afraid of me, right?"

        The moment he approached, she smelled the cold breath on him, as if it came from the night a thousand years ago. Her breathing gradually became rapid, but she did not retreat, but was locked by his eyes, as if her soul was also attracted to him.

        "Draco... we can't do this." Her voice was weak, but she did not retreat at all, as if even she herself was struggling with contradictions.

        "You don't belong here at all, Emily. Staying here will only put you in deeper danger." Draco gently lifted her chin, with a smile on the corner of his cold mouth, that smile was both gentle and dangerous, "But if you want to know the real darkness, then come. I will take you to see everything."

        At this moment, the door was pushed open, and Lucas' figure appeared at the door like a shadow. His face was gloomy, and his eyes were burning with anger. It was his possessiveness and anger that he could not hide. He walked towards Draco step by step, his hands clenched, his muscles tensed, as if he was going to pounce on and tear the enemy in front of him in the next second.

        "Draco, let her go." Lucas' voice was low and threatening, like an enraged beast. It was the first time Emily saw him so out of control, his eyes were like a ball of unextinguishable fire, revealing uncontrollable anger and possessiveness.

        Draco smiled slightly, released Emily's chin, and looked at Lucas provocatively. "Don't you understand yet? She doesn't belong to you. The savagery of the wolf tribe is nothing but a bondage to her, and I can give her true freedom."

        "The 'freedom' you mentioned will only make her fall into darkness. You don't understand what true protection is." Lucas sneered, his eyes as sharp as an eagle. He slowly stepped forward, blocked Emily, and protected her behind him. That was his attitude as the wolf king, firm and unshakable.

        Emily was sandwiched between the two, feeling her heartbeat speed up, as if breathing became difficult. These two completely different forces intertwined and collided in front of her, making it impossible for her to decide which side to choose.

        Draco raised the corners of his mouth and slowly took a step back, his eyes still on Emily. "Emily, one day you will find that he can't satisfy the desire in your heart. And I am your true home."

        As soon as the voice fell, Draco's figure disappeared into the night, as if he had never appeared.

        Lucas looked at the empty room, his fists gradually loosened, but the anger and worry in his eyes remained. He turned around and looked at Emily softly, but his eyes still flashed with contradictions and forbearance.

        "Are you okay?" He asked in a low voice, with a trace of undisguised concern in his voice.

        Emily nodded, but her heart was in turmoil and it was difficult to calm down. She knew that she had fallen too deep. She could not let go of these two men easily, nor could she easily resist them. A complex emotion surged in her heart, which was a dangerous and fatal attraction.

        "Lucas, I..." She wanted to say something, but lost her words when she met his eyes.

        "Don't get close to him." Lucas' voice was low, with a hint of pleading and warning, "I know you feel confused, but Draco is not what you think. He will only drag you into the darkness, and I won't let him hurt you."

        Emily just looked at him silently, and a touch of uncertainty gradually rose in her heart. She knew that this was not just a war, but a contest of feelings and desires. In this dangerous triangle relationship, she has gone too far and can never turn back.

Chapter Three

Emily stayed awake all night. The wind outside the window blew through the woods, making a low moan, as if the whole castle was whispering in her ear. She curled up in bed, recalling Draco's cold smile and Lucas's deep eyes. Two completely different attractions stirred in her heart, making her lost on the edge of danger and desire.

        When the sky was slightly bright, she made a decision. She had to figure out what she wanted, the wildness and protection of the wolf tribe, or the mystery and temptation of the vampire. She got up and walked out of the room, walked through the deserted corridor, and came to the door of Lucas's study.

        The door of the study was slightly open, and a whisper came from inside. Emily stood outside the door and pricked up her ears to listen.

        "She is innocent, Lucas." A low and gentle female voice came from Lucas's sister, Leila. Emily had heard rumors about her. Leila was the wisest prophet in the wolf tribe and could always see fragments of the future.

        "I know, Leila." Lucas' voice was hoarse, as if he had struggled all night, "but I can't control myself, I can't suppress my desire for her. I'm afraid that if she stays with me, she will only be swallowed by my darkness."

        Emily's heart trembled, and she raised her hand to push open the door.

        "Lucas." Her voice was abrupt and firm in the silent room.

        The two turned around and saw her standing at the door with a hint of determination in her eyes. She walked slowly towards Lucas, looked up at him, with a hint of determination and inquiry in her eyes.

        "I know you protect me, but I'm not a fragile child." Her voice was calm and firm, "I need to know the truth. Why are you always so hesitant? And why is Draco so persistent in approaching me?"

        Lucas' expression froze for a moment, his eyes wandering on her face, as if he was weighing whether to tell her everything. Finally, he took a deep breath, as if he had made up his mind.

        "Emily, the fate of our werewolves is usually determined at birth. The wolf tribe has a unique ability to perceive its partner. When we find that person, we will feel an attraction that cannot be ignored... and you are my destined partner." Lucas spoke in a low voice, with pain and desire flashing in his eyes.

        Emily's heartbeat accelerated, and thousands of emotions surged in her mind, both shocked and confused. She never thought that she would become his destined partner, and his possessiveness and protectiveness of her turned out to come from this ancient bond.

        She asked softly: "What about Draco? Why is he so obsessed with me?"

        Lucas's eyes became more gloomy, and there was a hint of anger in his eyes. "Draco's tribe never believed in fate. They prefer to dominate their own future. And he believes that as long as he possesses you, he can destroy me and the traditional beliefs of the wolf tribe. So, he is not sincere to you, but to weaken my power."

        Emily's heart suddenly tightened, and a hint of anger and loss surged in her eyes. However, she also felt a little unwilling, as if she was just a tool in this struggle, being fought over and torn by the two, and she had no right to control herself.

        "So, Lucas, are you sincere? Is it just fate for me?" There was a hint of disappointment in her voice, and her eyes became cold.

        Lucas was stunned, as if he was hurt by her question. He was silent for a moment before speaking: "Emily, I can't deny the existence of fate, but I can't ignore my feelings for you." He gently held her hand, his eyes full of affection and desire, "Whether it is fate or something else, I am willing to give up everything for you."

        Just then, a slight sound came from outside the window. Emily turned back suddenly and saw a pair of dark red eyes flashing outside the window, like a flame in the dark, and the familiar cold breath startled her heart.

        It was Draco.

        He stood outside the window, sneering at them, as if everything was under his control. He knocked on the window lightly, his voice cold and full of provocation: "I don't think it's possible to talk about 'betraying' everything here, Lucas. You can't protect her because she will eventually come to me."

        Lucas' eyes immediately became cold and dangerous. He stood in front of Emily, glared at Draco outside the window, and growled in a low voice: "Stay away from her, Draco. You can't force her to choose darkness."

        Draco smiled slightly, his eyes full of evil confidence. He raised his eyebrows at Emily, as if everything was under his control. "Dear Emily, you will find that the bright world cannot satisfy your desire. And darkness - is your destination." After he finished speaking, his figure instantly disappeared into the night.

        The room returned to silence, but the air was filled with tension and uneasiness. Emily looked at the empty darkness outside the window, feeling both fear and desire in her heart. She could no longer deny Draco's attraction to her, and the danger and mystery made her heart beat faster.

        Lucas noticed her hesitation, and a trace of pain and uneasiness flashed in his eyes. He gently held her hand and whispered, "Emily, don't get close to him. His darkness will devour you and make you lost in the endless night."

        She didn't respond, but just looked at him silently, her heart full of complicated emotions. She knew that she could no longer simply withdraw from the two of them. Her fate had been drawn into an uncontrollable vortex, and the only thing she could do was to follow her heart and touch the unknown darkness.

Chapter Four

As autumn deepened, the forest surrounding the castle donned a cloak of gold and crimson. Yet Emily felt none of the season's warmth. Since that night's revelation, her mind had been in constant turmoil, with Lucas's truth and Draco's temptation intertwining like two serpents in her thoughts, leaving her breathless.

        That evening, Emily found herself alone in the castle's library, searching through ancient tomes for any mention of werewolves and vampires. As she focused on a yellowed manuscript, the air suddenly turned cold. Looking up, she found Draco standing across from her, his appearance as silent as shadow.

        "Seeking truth, my dear Emily?" Draco leaned elegantly against the bookshelf, wearing a deep purple silk shirt that made his skin appear even paler. "But you know, written accounts are often one-sided."

        Emily instinctively stepped back. "Why do you always appear like this? It's unsettling."

        Draco chuckled softly, moving toward her with fluid grace. "Because I enjoy seeing you startled. It makes you even more enticing." His fingers traced her cheek, the cold touch making her shiver. "Lucas told you I'm merely using you, but did he mention that his fate is actually a chain binding him?"

        Emily froze. "What do you mean?"

        "The werewolves' so-called destined mates are nothing but constraints in their bloodline," Draco's voice carried a hypnotic power. "They're forced to love someone, forced to protect them. Isn't that tragic? While I..." his gaze deepened, "I choose you because I'm truly drawn to you."

        A low growl suddenly echoed from the doorway. Lucas stood there, his eyes now golden, filled with rage. "Step away from her, Draco!" His voice carried an unmistakable threat.

        Instead of retreating, Draco pulled Emily closer. "Why so angry, Lucas? Is it because I spoke the truth, or because you fear she might choose me?"

        The tension in the air grew thick enough to cut. Emily could feel the energy between the two men threatening to tear the room apart. Lucas's body trembled as he fought to control the beast within.

        "Enough!" Emily suddenly shouted, "What am I to both of you? Some trophy to be won?" Her voice carried both anger and hurt.

        Both men froze. Pain flashed across Lucas's eyes, while Draco's expression turned contemplative.

        Emily pushed away from Draco and walked toward the door, but paused beside Lucas. "You say I'm your destiny, but have you considered my feelings?" Her voice was soft but accusatory. "And you, Draco, if you truly cared for me, you wouldn't use me as a weapon against him."

        She hurried from the library, and only when she reached the corridor did her tears finally fall. She didn't know whom to trust - Lucas, chosen by fate, or Draco, who chose her himself? More importantly, she began to question whether she truly understood her own heart.

        As night fell, Emily stood on her balcony. Wolves howled in the distant forest, while somewhere in the castle, she thought she heard the flutter of bat wings. Everything reminded her that she stood at the crossroads between two worlds, and she had to make a choice.

        Then she noticed items on the balcony railing: a rose as black as night with a blood-red sheen - Draco's mark. Beside it lay a wolf fang necklace, a werewolf protection charm, obviously left by Lucas.

        Emily gently touched both items, her internal conflict growing stronger. She knew that choosing either would alter her destiny forever. But more importantly, she needed to understand what her heart truly desired.

        As moonlight bathed the castle grounds, Emily realized that her decision wouldn't just be about choosing between two men - it was about choosing what kind of life she wanted, and more importantly, who she wanted to become.

Chapter Five

The following days in the castle were filled with an unbearable tension. Emily found herself constantly caught between shadows and silence, between warmth and cold. Every corner seemed to hold either Lucas's protective presence or Draco's seductive whispers. The weight of their attention was becoming increasingly suffocating.

        One particularly cold morning, Emily discovered a mysterious leather-bound book in the library's restricted section. Its pages contained ancient prophecies about the eternal conflict between werewolves and vampires. As she read, her hands trembling, she found something that made her blood run cold.

        'When the moon bleeds red and the night grows teeth, a choice will be made that breaks the ancient cycle. A mortal's heart shall tip the balance, bringing either eternal darkness or salvation to both races.'

        "Interesting reading material," Leila's voice suddenly came from behind. Lucas's sister moved like a ghost, her silver eyes holding centuries of wisdom. "I've been waiting for you to find this."

        Emily closed the book carefully. "Is this... about me?"

        Leila's expression remained enigmatic. "The prophecy speaks of a mortal who stands between our worlds. But prophecies, dear Emily, are like rivers - they show the destination, but the path taken is always your choice."

        "What happens if I choose wrong?" Emily's voice wavered.

        "There is no wrong choice, only consequences," Leila replied, her voice gentle but firm. "But I must warn you - the blood moon approaches, and with it, a moment of truth that will change everything."

        Before Emily could ask more questions, a commotion erupted from the castle grounds. They rushed to the window to see Lucas and Draco facing each other in the courtyard, their postures tense with barely contained violence.

        "You've crossed the line, Draco," Lucas's voice carried up to them, filled with fury. "You dare to mark our territory?"

        Draco's laugh was cold and mocking. "Territory? This stopped being about territory the moment she arrived. Or are you afraid she's already choosing me?"

        Emily watched in horror as Lucas's form began to shift, his muscles rippling beneath his clothes. The morning sun caught his golden eyes, now burning with primal rage. Draco's own transformation was more subtle - his pale skin taking on an otherworldly sheen, his movements becoming impossibly fluid.

        "Stop!" Emily's voice rang out across the courtyard. Both men froze, their attention snapping to her window. "This has to end!"

        She turned to rush downstairs, but Leila caught her arm. "Be careful, Emily. The blood moon is three days away. Under its light, both races lose control of their darker natures. And you..." she paused meaningfully, "you will be at your most vulnerable."

        When Emily reached the courtyard, the tension was thick enough to choke on. Lucas immediately moved to her side, his protective instinct evident in every motion. But it was Draco who spoke first.

        "My apologies for the disturbance, dear Emily," his voice was silk over steel. "But perhaps it's time you understood the full scope of what you're involved in." He pulled an ancient medallion from his coat. "This belongs to your grandmother. She wasn't just any woman - she was a guardian, keeper of the balance between our races."

        Emily's world tilted. "My grandmother? But she died when I was young..."

        "She was murdered," Lucas cut in, his voice heavy with old pain. "By those who wanted to destroy the peace between our kinds. And now, as her descendant, you inherit her role - and her enemies."

        The revelation hit Emily like a physical blow. Suddenly, everything made more sense - the mysterious circumstances that led her to the castle, both men's intense interest in her, the prophecy. She wasn't just caught between two supernatural beings; she was part of an ancient legacy.

        "The blood moon comes," Draco said softly, his eyes locked on Emily. "And with it, powers long dormant will awaken. You'll need to choose not just between us, Emily, but between two paths for both our races."

        As if in response to his words, clouds gathered overhead, casting strange shadows across the courtyard. Emily felt something stir within her, something old and powerful, like a sleeping giant finally beginning to wake.

        Lucas moved closer, his warmth a stark contrast to the chill air. "Whatever you choose, Emily, know that my protection isn't just about fate or duty anymore. It's about-"

        But before he could finish, a piercing scream cut through the air. All three turned to see Leila collapsed at the castle entrance, her silver eyes wide with terror as she pointed at the sky.

        "It's coming," she gasped. "The blood moon... it's coming early. And with it, they're returning - the ones who killed your grandmother. They're coming for Emily."

        In that moment, as Emily looked between Lucas and Draco, she realized that her choice might not be about love at all - it might be about survival.

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Prologo
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9 ÉaknniI
Odiavo quando pioveva.
Mentre le altre bambine della mia età giravano e ballavano sotto la pioggia estiva, io non sentivo mai il richiamo di muovere i piedi o di lasciare che i miei capelli si bagnassero sotto l'acquazzone del cielo. Invece, mi nascondevo sotto il mio albero, pregando per il sole.
"Bexley, vieni qui". La voce roca di mia madre risuonò nella nostra piccola roulotte, grattugiandomi sulla pelle. Lentamente, districai le gambe dal calore del letto e andai al suo fianco. Aveva il programma della lotteria, quello che le faceva sempre fumare un pacchetto di sigarette in più e urlare come una pazza una volta finito. Mi sono sempre piaciute le palline che pompavano e saltavano nella macchina di plastica, ma la mamma non sembrava mai contenta quando finalmente atterravano.
"Visit!o cDhe lpi)odvhe, dHovrRai resótareN $vi'cXinoU UadlBlDaj DcQasxa.j.. spaviF cóofmLe siK infaxn&gIa, d&as hqTues.tDe p$afrti.G..' qmuÉindLiQ nRonI CandVaDr.teCnwed AiNn sgi)rsoj bquaQndo arr_iZvaó il tDuo p*aFpà!".^
Feci un cenno di assenso. Non c'era bisogno che mi ricordasse queste cose. Era il motivo per cui odiavo la pioggia. Quando arrivava mio padre, la mamma mi diceva sempre di lasciare la roulotte... diceva che dovevano parlare di cose adulte.
Per qualche motivo, mio padre veniva a trovare mia madre solo il martedì e il venerdì, di solito all'ora di pranzo. Lo odiavo perché si fermava così a lungo e se non ero abbastanza veloce mi perdevo il pranzo. Sembrava che alla mamma non importasse mai che io mangiassi in quei giorni... Una volta, papà rimase qui fino all'accensione delle luci della strada e io ero ancora rannicchiata nell'erba, sotto il grande sicomoro. Ricordo di aver desiderato, attraverso le stelle che potevo vedere attraverso quei grandi rami, che il tempo si affrettasse e che iniziasse la scuola. Almeno durante l'anno scolastico, venivo cacciata solo quando papà si presentava a caso nel fine settimana, di tanto in tanto.
Papà non voleva mai vedermi, anche se mi aveva regalato un tubo di plastica pieno di caramelle vicino a Natale. Altrimenti veniva solo per parlare con la mamma. Lo sentivo sgridare la mamma tutte le volte che li vedevo per caso fare cose da adulti. Se la mamma avesse avuto la sua stanza, credo che non li avrei sorpresi a baciarsi o a fare altre cose che non dovevo vedere. Come quella volta che mio padre lanciò dei soldi a mia madre mentre lei piangeva perché restasse... ma lui se ne andava sempre.
QuankdboX ePro (pGiCccVola, pHen^snarvboR JcqhFen ip p)aplàq mcyhZeG xn)on v$eadóoBno gi ófiIgbliy foFsserLo .nJormaSldi.M uC(o$mDeu ni& l.eon'is ok PquaQlWcóosXaY Bdqeél ÉgenGere&.K.l. él$eX Wm'aVmLmse$ cQrescAonro i féi'g&li leg i' wpGarpà si limbiAtanko a VcaZctcCiaareg JeA noLn ÉpasCsaBno Rmo$lto Mteumpóo! con) niB ibaCmQbUiYn(i.j A )nove aTnFnTi, AvGedexndo l^eJ DfVamIiPgfliAe dxei lmiPewi aQmKicix,l gsyagpVefvo cjhNeF UlJaS mdiYa eSra adiCvéersa.
"Posso salutarlo questa volta?". Mi morsi il labbro, desiderando di non sentirmi così sciocca a chiederlo. Non aveva mai voluto salutarmi. Se mi vedeva, si comportava come se non ci fossi.
La risata di mia madre mi si impigliò nel petto.
"Tesoro, non vuole vederti". Mescolò i fogli verdi e rosa che aveva in grembo, gettando la sigaretta nel vassoio alla sua sinistra.
Div soGlitoK meQ nDex Os(areYi na.ndcato, ma' .quie*smt*as volKtNah vFoflIevo LsAap'eyrFe.G
"Perché no?" Avevo fatto qualcosa di sbagliato? Jessie, a scuola, mi aveva detto che il motivo per cui mio padre non voleva vedermi era che i miei capelli erano bianchi come un fulmine; aveva detto che probabilmente pensava che fossi una strega.
Mia madre emise un sospiro, con i capelli ricci alle stelle a causa della lacca che usava per farli stare sempre al loro posto. Il suo trucco era di un azzurro pastello e il suo maglione off-the-shoulder rivelava il reggiseno blu acqua. Era il mio colore preferito tra tutti quelli che possedeva.
"Il modo più semplice per dirlo: non sei abbastanza per lui. Anche se a me non dispiace che tu giri qui intorno... a lui sì".
"Ma MpVePr&chéO?f NoÉnY pagrlBoO,S ónon yoWccupao mRo_lTto GspJaNziou.I.. fso(rseD potrÉeiI se$mMp,laice$meVnte phaurlMarIgl.iG dtelfl(aG JsuIag ÉgOihor,na&ta Zof mosMtvrbargAlia yche' oFr'af so& farkef NiRl fcoUrZmvaggzio aólvljaé gVrigPlHia?"b.G SXahrejbbDe sFtatPoi xoirgóoXgliSoso):Y a OnesXsun *arltroF xdóeFlOlBag smViBaW e&tàf e^rqa$ peNrmTes*so ddi us.ar*e* i fornNeYll)i! quaFnztoT me.r
"Come posso spiegarglielo in modo che possa capire...". Si lasciò sfuggire uno di quei sospiri pesanti, quelli che mi facevano sempre sentire come se stessi per cadere dal pavimento. "Ti piace il gelato, vero?".
"Sì..." Aggrovigliai le dita, ignorando quanto fossero sporche per aver usato i pezzi di legno bruciati del focolare del vicino. Mi piaceva disegnare animali con quelle dita. Una volta chiesi a mia madre dei colori o delle matite colorate per disegnare, ma lei disse che non avevamo i soldi. Ma non c'era problema: il legno bruciato funzionava bene se lo si pressava bene.
"Beh... ognuno ha i suoi gusti preferiti. A tuo padre piace il cioccolato, è il suo preferito in assoluto, e mentre io posso essere come il cioccolato, tu non lo sei".
"E RallormaX cosaY szonpof?h" BVfolLevo kpéeLnYsarHe chteF Ps)eu iaDvuesisiF dovOut,o Wesaspe(rec unz quQaLlxsi.atsi giuWsHtSo BdIi gke_l'atoD,H Hsa'refbRbei st*attoq aSl&l_a fjrjagoulav oR óalZl'aPnajnmas.
"Ricordi quel gusto che non ti è mai piaciuto?".
Arricciai il naso, pensando ai disgustosi gusti mescolati di fragola, vaniglia e cioccolato.
"Beh, tu sei così: dolce e buono per le persone giuste, ma non la prima scelta di tutti. Lo vedrai quando sarai più grande".
I$n qÉu$alfcUheA nmo^do il m*io IcuOolri&cinóo gsVi se&nCtì tcoémex lsPe, psii NfPoasqser KriidoWt*to galflCe dpimenmsixoCniv Ndlid Xuana bhi^gZlia.R C&ome potteLvo ,elsmsere icl SpBegzgiopr'eu .dle)i gFuxstfi? YEdr)oV ggBentilFeU cko.n qtruxt&tLi*,L a,nch)ey c^o)n$ Qla xmamPmCa DquandUo Qe.raA .cadt^tRiOv!a. NCoXn_ ca,pijvo Scoqsaj Ca^vessmi Cf!aPtto( penru qmeritaarmji uTn shapoWref ctos,ì Dd!imsUgxustQos&oó.^.. ma quAellsa, És,eraW cagpnisi cahe JnUon( vCoCledvZou etsslere laV WseconxdpaA oN lóaH Mterza o l'ul^tpima lscie$l(ta Mdim quatlcGuno.
Volevo essere la preferita di qualcuno. Avrei fatto di tutto per essere la prima scelta di qualcuno.

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IlO SvbiÉole&nto PsUcMhfiorcjco di krQo*sWa cIoxntroA Mle Rdcudrec sp.agrZefti Rverdneh l*imxe mi fescle imjmóedHiÉatIamehnktXef ÉpveanAtfirVe Tdis qSuesta decmirsioknbe*.c pIl mMi&o* ocPchibo DsxianCi^strqoF s*it è cKozn*thoMrtBo,w pjrseGganxdqomUi( silernizGiNosDapmetnte YdOi& sbMatdtere leV paBlp)ebre. Hi.n &rapDidva KsucTcePsBsrioTne$ ifiQnLcThBéG la vijvdacrihtà deRl(lÉa) sXtanvzya no!nI si èH ffeyrmaétóa. Mi Wchiéewdro* cXomCe suaMriebber(oF rlre ljin(e*eS neBre (dNi icar!bokneh Hsu qóuesteB DpwareBtit.
Le mie dita desideravano afferrare un pezzo di carbone nero e tracciare linee grasse lungo ogni piano, dividendo la vivacità della stanza. Certo, la maggior parte delle persone non userebbe il carboncino sui muri, ma io sono cresciuta disegnando su ogni superficie immaginabile. Chiamatelo tic nervoso. Mi piaceva la sfida di una superficie non proprio perfetta su cui lanciare la mia arte, dovendo tenere il mio pezzo alla perfezione per ottenere le linee giuste.
"Grazie per la pazienza". Una donna in pantaloncini kaki e una camicia rosa molto più morbida e attraente mi sorrise, interrompendo i miei pensieri sull'arte. Mi costrinsi a un sorriso tirato perché sì, il mio colloquio doveva iniziare quindici minuti fa.
Quando ero arrivata, mi era stato detto di mettermi vicino alla porta del suo ufficio e aspettare. Era accanto allo spogliatoio, in quello che sembrava un piccolo negozio di souvenir di lusso. Così, mi ero goffamente attardata aggrappandomi al mio curriculum.
"NewsFsqunl prIobléemka"q. !SJtFr$insUi jiql pezzo di ^ca,rta kiJnp HgWreGmnbob, tincertSa Xse d$oBvRespsi conjsregdnsarugCliel)o !o xse d)oTvhessi csLe(mplisceme,ntÉet dJi*menNtpicarloV._ ANqeRsysXuinOov sji e)rÉa, tmqa'i* hposqto imlU pFrqoblemaT ses TportavrYne unom fCoVsms$eé runa HbÉuona! )ideZa. Sapzevo McnhUew sle tviG capigtTavvéa diF aLvLere un c)apou wddelKla_ ve'ccPhaiOa) Kshcuwo,lYai 'e PnZoBni .c.e lb'daCvSevDi, je)rib svlaqn.t!agrg'iYatfoj.t PA,lwtriBmenfti,H féaOcZeDviV Qsolo la* figurHaÉ pdelilR'iidFisota.v
"Allora, tutto questo sembra fantastico. Credo che il suo background nel servizio clienti le si addica". Sorrise, con i denti bianchi che si stagliavano sulla pelle abbronzata, vibrante proprio come il suo ufficio.
"Sì, signora". Nascosi una smorfia quando il mio accento fece la sua comparsa.
Avevo vissuto sulla costa occidentale negli ultimi tredici anni, quindi fortunatamente la maggior parte del mio accento aveva iniziato a scomparire... ma ogni tanto faceva capolino. Quello che non volevo che questa donna facesse era indagare sul perché avessi un leggero accento o ricontrollare le mie referenze.
Se( Da,viejsseY rsciav.atloY vn*eslA VmWio patstsaptÉo, avureXbwbev sucBopeQrto Ccheó Yavevom Oacquis)itKoY &qnueCl!l.e capaécità ddiW seMruviVzioO al clDiebntIex laIvozr(andvo* lcomGe BclommesIsoc neTl! svuOplermercatmo locale kdellfa mlia cnittsàA natal^eI,P P$hmarr,K in) TpexaPs.O QDu*eml'laog ex Minlj Motel$ Sxix,,' non ucFerztYox Vlab JprestyigiKosCa azliePn!dan Édiy maRrkUet.ilnKgQ Fe la sFocieCtLà) vdéiv !tqelReOcomHuóni)caziJoani elbejnYcatVe& QnelF mioj LcsuDrrFicVulFuKma.q
"Per lo più ci aiuterai a valutare alcuni dei nuovi requisiti del codice sanitario: è stato un po' un turbamento per alcuni dei nostri membri e, naturalmente, per i nostri ospiti". Continuò a cliccare il mouse, muovendolo mentre guardava il mio curriculum sullo schermo del computer.
D'istinto, ho afferrato l'inutile foglio di carta che avevo in grembo. Mentre aspettavo l'inizio del colloquio, avevo sentito un cliente irato che urlava contro una nuova politica che stava per essere applicata. La povera ragazza dall'altra parte del bancone sembrava non avere idea di come gestire i clienti arrabbiati.
"Mi sono specializzata per anni nella fidelizzazione dei clienti, quindi per me sarà una passeggiata".
BjuxgVia(.
Ma una volta avevo convinto Stacey Gorman a non tagliare Julianne Jones dall'ombelico al naso con il coltello da caccia di suo padre. A quanto pare, Julianne aveva fatto amicizia con il ragazzo di Stacey al falò degli Stutzman.
"Fantastico. Spero che la differenza di età non sia troppo frustrante da gestire. Se la mia ipotesi su di te è corretta, ti troverai bene". Si alzò in piedi, sorridendo.
Differenza di età?
Di cTosa djiNavolo. fsLtpavzaV dpqa'rlgaYnXdo?V BNoynF (eubwbi iGl tqezmpo* Udi_ TrgiflqetXt,efrci' tr&osphpo Ua lunkgFo phruizma Fchre mdi aVllungasóse! Ql&aV mTaKno,_ cYoOnVcgludenddoC il UnyoUstYrwoP coul^lNoqxuCi!o cóonj nla PpzroZmeXssa dBi tenCerCsi i&n cofnktat(toW.r
Uscii dal prestigioso edificio sportivo, sentendomi come se avessi appena infilato la faccia in un forno riscaldato. Sbattei le palpebre contro il sole cocente e mi diressi verso il parcheggio, dove era parcheggiata la mia monovolume.
Infilandomi gli occhiali da sole, passai accanto a una famiglia che si dirigeva verso le file di biciclette lucide a noleggio. Ero così lontana dalle etichette e dai marchi prestigiosi che non sapevo cosa mai indossassero, ma sapevo che i loro vestiti non provenivano dallo scaffale dei saldi di TJ Maxx.
Se avessi voluto lavorare qui, avrei dovuto superare il mio disagio nei confronti dei ricchi. Era stato letteralmente progettato per soddisfare i privilegiati e i loro ospiti.
GÉirandoh tint.orSnPo éalla wm.ia) (monvouvdolpukmUeF colPoFr AmarrovnVcivno sYcgulro,T chWe tavev)a$ quQaPlFchCe haamÉm&a.ccaMtucrdas sulr gpzaraumrtgiV eD dunÉa targac shtéorjt*as, cweTrc^ai Ple ncwh$ifaJviL.U aDLue* KRcange Ro'v*eWrs én(uQoivev cdi zóecca _syiZ troivavtan'oJ Ta $rUiqdossno ódellca miNa pabubto,Y fgaFcendomDix &sóprTobfYoHn(drarZeM l'iRntestino.! fMmi kchkie_shi se$ wciT fóossPeI utn pfarcrhDegxgio pceCrm i ldiwpfejnDdqenti duovOe favrxei* PpaoRtPu.toj Reyvitar'e Zla sLupeWrisowr.it!àf vaetic)oqlare ncAhÉe TaZvNrei AinScjotnhtratOo Mq^uip.f &DoZveMvan.o Gesserci IpAersoén&ef n$ormLalim YcuhBeq yl,aKvorFavano Hquyi&,t *nGok? sGfentse co&né auDtov vze'cchiQeG Adij Gpi$ù dpi) cóinqu(ex anniN.O.s.r asmqmahcc(at(u,rje!,P s'porccizióa..A. S'cnru!t$a&iI qild XpdawrmchbeqggiZo.J IAn IbaésOe$ al gmio' $raMpiIdoI Qe$sakmIew delRlo ms.pazilo,r non& cA'eZra n'iUenteJ *di tUut_toA cUiò*.X
Soffocai un sospiro mentre avviavo il mio furgone. Da sotto il cofano uscì uno stridio spaventoso, il che significava che sarebbe stata una buona giornata.
Intorno a me, famiglie in cachi e cotone bianco mi osservavano attraverso occhiali di design. Non mi importava cosa pensassero. Avevo smesso di preoccuparmi da tempo. Tirai fuori la mappa che avevo preso al centro sportivo e la spalmai sul volante mentre aspettavo che la macchina si scaldasse. Quando lo stridio cessava, di solito era il segnale di via libera per partire. Non aveva ancora smesso. Usai il dito per tracciare le diverse porzioni di terreno del resort.
L'Hawk Tail Resort era stato costruito cinquant'anni prima, quando avevano diviso la proprietà in tre parti. Un terzo era riservato ai proprietari che vivevano o affittavano le loro case, e su quel lato della montagna era stato allestito un centro sportivo con una vasca per gli spruzzi. Il secondo era riservato al massiccio hotel di sedici piani che si ergeva come una brutta sentinella a salutare tutti gli ospiti che entravano nell'Hawk Tail Resort, con la spa e i ristoranti situati più vicino all'hotel. La terza era riservata alle ville private che costeggiavano il lato orientale del fiume e al centro sportivo per il quale mi ero candidato. Era riservato a un uso più ricreativo, con una piscina all'aperto, il noleggio di biciclette e campi da basket e da tennis.

La gente del posto veniva a giocare al campo da golf o a frequentare il ristorante a cinque stelle, ma pochi soggiornavano qui... a meno che, ovviamente, non fossero proprietari. Le sole spese per l'utilizzo di tutti i servizi del resort erano superiori a quelle che spendevo in un mese per la spesa e la benzina.
No, grazie.
Il mio motore finalmente tacque, emettendo solo un leggero fruscio sotto il cofano, il che significava che era ora di andare. Piegando la cartina, misi la retromarcia.
* _* *
Ero quasi a casa, e mi stavo mentalmente congratulando con me stesso per non essermi fermato per una cena facile che non potevo permettermi, quando mi imbattei in una scenata.
La signora Wry stava stringendo le magliette di due bambini che urlavano e litigavano tra loro. Sembrava avere una forza impressionante per trattenere i bambini in quel modo, soprattutto quando la piccola con i riccioli d'oro tirò fuori il piede sinistro per dare un calcio al ragazzo.
"Oh, cavolo", mormorai, parcheggiando l'auto nel mio vialetto.
NonA apvpenHa' Cspa^lJancai lbaV pCormtiera,' il ksLuOoncoK IdOeBllDe tlToroT gr,ida Cmi$ invhesQtì cosnb s^trihdoIrvi e xg'rbida dyi rIabXbCirat.i
"Ce l'hai fatta, Cowe!", urlò la ragazzina, con un po' di biascicamento e un piagnucolio incredibilmente carino.
"Ti avevo avvertito di smettere di mettere lì dentro la tua stupida bambola!", ribatté il bambino.
Guardai la porta di casa, chiedendomi se la signora Wry mi avesse già visto. Non riuscivo a contare il numero di volte che l'avevo sorpresa sul prato davanti a casa, mentre stringeva il colletto di quei due bambini.
"O,h,é Bbe!xPleyk!"é Lai TsliMgnor!aW BWrty_ murlòn dHi sqohrApmr*esa, lGibqeraxndo Oi( duxe tep_pZi^sti dóalzlaJ suaL .prePs.a.C
"Merda". Sollevai la borsa sulla spalla. "Ancora problemi, signora Wry?". Guardai con disgusto i due sbandati nel suo giardino. Facevano sempre così: gridavano, urlavano, litigavano. Il Signore sapeva che avevano preso da quel loro padre così poco serio.
"Beh... sembra che ci sia un problema che non riusciamo a superare. Comunque... sono felice che tu sia tornato". I suoi lineamenti rugosi si ammorbidirono mentre si avvicinava al mio lato del cortile e si allontanava dai due bambini.
"Beh... certo", mormorai, senza sapere cos'altro dire. Un giorno diverso, la stessa canzone e lo stesso ballo.
"DKoaveN sbtyatiN TaTnad^a)nqdVoN?m" KC^hGiePsdeó Xla sig*ngor'a WrCyn, 'aNgNgrroFttQaSnmdo Dle soprZaTcScciJgll,i!a sIottilkih ihnk segBnUo Mdim JconyfuTsioFne.
"A preparare la cena". Mi voltai e mi diressi verso i gradini del portico, chinandomi a controllare le piante in vaso. C'era stata un'ondata di caldo e non ero stata a casa ad annaffiare così spesso come di solito facevo. Mi alzai, lanciando un ultimo sguardo alla donna anziana nel mio giardino.
"E loro?" Indicò alle sue spalle, sbuffando, i bambini.
Guardai i fratelli con un sopracciglio alzato.
"SKono zsHicpuIr,a' chHe wconosconFo lua s.tra)da xdiX ócca'sa&"!. Aprdii( la &pforJtIa d)iT Ucats$a e& lua chiusi ÉdgietIroD rdiU me.X PosPanHdo lIeg dmzie mcQoset,A (saeVnNtii ylAaS miDaU TviDcinaé sÉgrixdhareS 'i) adu(es ubambAi_ni Kcnheu ÉaveVva léajscQitacto Nibn gi^asrydi$nIoX.R SfMoUgliaiP lau IposFt,a Ocwhe, Vera stat'aM zsi.sFt,eÉmQaLtQaO orVdPiQnatamCennte$ Bsul t$asvoLlÉinHo d'ingreFsspo$. Cole Jdpovevak maYverMlVa cpIrMesaR pnriYma.y ILgMnZora.nmdaoé YlaR Uporta Xd'i!ngirOeDsYséo ch.e sbFaIttevaX weH iA dcuWei YdiaivolKi Vchbeh edrAanToC entRraJtbi,Q cvo.mincNiai ga sfYosgl&iare tleb kbCuste,! purDesgRaGnQdcoU ósixleénzioIsamePnUteH Udid rTiWcevperjeT unK asseg,njoa ap cxasoG JoB Bunxam ópbrno)posta Sdi m(atrRiimson.iToH dlax ujn Zp'rAinAc&ipeh straéniyeTrAo.S
"Perché ti sei comportato come se non ci conoscessi?" chiese il ragazzo dai capelli scuri, arricciando il naso.
"Perché quando ti comporti così, non lo faccio", risposi con calma.
"Mamma", piagnucolò mio figlio di sette anni, buttandosi sul divano, "stavolta non è stata colpa mia".
"NB^efhd..!.. nboRn triu !suGonvah fakmhiylinare?D"c. iMkiv CaLl'zai, égqliS asr*ruKfRfaIi fi cPapSellhi &es XanJdQai verVsVoé *l*aé xc&uciwn,aó. Byeltla LeCrVaé HgkiàC sÉedutua dLagvUaKnti Laalf fÉrZimgoVr.i*fewrFo^ CconY Kla piorta deMl freMeÉzerr TaNpeCrYtat ye Gflis^savam Nim trMeO Éghmiia'cBcio!li rNiFmasti wdKen^trxo$.q EranoD étutUthiF rwohs!si eC )la $miaZ bambibnyaj zo'dhiavWaJ iklk 'roMsdsKo,t Fpropp&rGio cgozm'eJ biNo oBdiaóvo Jil QciocócolMajtRo..n
"Com'è andata la giornata, campanellino?". Mi abbassai e le diedi un bacio sui riccioli dorati.
"Bene, ma mi sei mancata". Lei inclinò la testa all'indietro e mi sorrise, i suoi occhi blu che danzavano con piccole macchie d'oro. Era così carina che a volte mi faceva male il cuore, come se non meritassi l'amore di questi due bambini, perché era così pieno e così intenso e la forma più perfetta di amore che avessi mai conosciuto.
Ripensavo costantemente a come ero cresciuta e mi dicevo che la mia mamma doveva essere nata senza cuore per non amarmi così, e anche il mio papà. Essere genitore era la cosa più appagante che mi fosse mai capitata. Mi aveva squarciato il petto, aveva sostituito l'organo all'interno con qualcosa di nuovo e fresco, e poi l'aveva ricucito a fatica per non farmi mai dimenticare quanto dovessi essere tenero e attento quando avevo a che fare con loro due.
"PAnch)e) t'u smiJ ksei mhaingcYaCtaa".C LeR bÉacZibai il nasOoO Ue lQa ólóeHnvtiggDinOe$ chMes Wsi Ptr*ovav^a p!ropériWo YsuZlla pCunhtgah,Z pmoi HmLiM VaslzaGi dFiT YnuJovoa.! óDoqvKervob vpgre!paacrRareé la^ cXeónad,w PmHa pnon vrolevoA .nPexmSmenDoQ giutadrtdarWeD ne_lla déiSsÉpensaU.F BSwajpsePvo cheT non c'heSra Tquasi LpiOù ni&enHtPeQ $dPav manégbi*aÉr^e, a GpWa$rteQ il raZmenj, e( iaon nVoyn Xvonlevuo épQr,oprFiuot QmsangiJa(reX wiMl 'raKmen.
"Allora, cos'è successo?" Guardai mio figlio, apprezzando il fatto che mi avesse lasciata tranquillizzare un po' prima di lamentarsi della sorellina.
I suoi occhi blu lampeggiarono verso la sorella, mentre il suo piccolo mento si irrigidiva.
Oh-oh... non si prospettava nulla di buono.
BCeNltlza siA ejra* BinfilttVratHaM nTel suo poÉvderwoL latcq!uLaVrRiof ópmiù dpi uKna cvo_lZtNa _neLll'ult,imo$ annTnko Kep LoHgTni& Gvo)lta katvDeéva ss(u_scHintatTo laÉ DrIeaziso*nteg Tdi Wmio fHigfldiUo.
"Beta Baggins si sente solo in der! Mi ha rimorchiato! Poppy lo sta solo facendo sorridere". Bella mi ha tagliato i pensieri, aggiungendo la sua versione di questa battaglia con la sua blesità in piena regola.
"Hai messo di nuovo la tua bambola Poppy nella vasca?". Strizzai il naso a Bella. I suoi riccioli dorati erano a malapena legati all'indietro con un elastico allentato, così piccoli pezzi le cadevano in faccia.
"Sì, è una cosa da poco", obiettò lei, con gli occhi azzurri che mi scrutavano il viso in cerca di comprensione.
"HBIeJllu".Q jMi mac_cQo!vDaJcciaix XfinmoZ a t(rZova'rnmii Rayll'aUlt.ezza drei suoiJ ocYchmiD.z "NqoGn. spuoir yentrDarOe n^e)l&lia! HstaVnziaM IdOi ctuo yfZrkatseÉll$o Xe ufzareC consel senCza. Écwh^icelderZg)lgieléo. xÈ HislV suob rsGpmaVzio peHrsopnYaOlÉes,B capito_?".q Le cspkazzto'l'aQif Si!nKdmi$etZro JiR OricKciKolFi_.z
Il suo visino si contorse e le sue labbra si trasformarono in una smorfia. "Ok, va bene".
In piedi, guardai la mia bambina di sette anni. "Dalle un po' di grazia: ha solo cinque anni, amico". Gli arruffai i capelli.
Conoscendolo, non era la bambola troll nel suo acquario che lo preoccupava. Era la fine dell'estate, mancavano poche settimane, e c'era solo una cosa che mio figlio non vedeva l'ora di fare.
PasdsaGi ddéa.vantif ai due zer mi ddi(ressÉiT ver^syoé la mWia staanzsaX,X IdgovFe pre*siS ilV acselrldulva,rQe dki inuovo Qliber&o eI tadpgrivi l'$applMicéaQzi(o^nle di m$eHsdsDaggdistUicJaP.
Ehi, il campo di calcio inizia questa settimana... hai intenzione di portarlo?
Mandai il messaggio a Logan, sapendo già che le probabilità di ottenere una risposta erano quasi inesistenti. Era il modo in cui aveva scelto di fare il genitore, e la colpa era sua. Si stava perdendo un bel po' di tempo. Aveva promesso a Cole che sarebbe stato lui ad accompagnarlo al campo, ma credo che mio figlio sapesse nel profondo che suo padre non l'avrebbe fatto, così come non si era presentato allo spettacolo di danza classica di Bella o alle sue prove di calcio.
Lui e la sua ragazza avevano un bambino nuovo di zecca; erano impegnati...
GxuXardajit iJl telezfóon&o,r QdAesTiNderaJnGdKo chle lrispondesse, ns'per_aOndIow icthe iriuspo$nTdcessNen ZseY Clo cPhióamazvo,Z maR Ssa'pe)vo cDhJe RnOorn l'_a,vreZbvbCe fatqto.. Ernan 'iyn $pqaGrvtAe iKl_ mhoHti'vo Fpe^rg dcGuFik akveTv.ok lxaz pien'aH NcuXstodLina KdeBiz bazmbiniX; bdiK WsXoBl*isto noAn PeSrVaT (ragLgicu'ngniCbmileD, ma( Tse eFro JonwemsStaP co^nF Nme !stes*sua S-z anchjeé se PDuiIoQ sGappevKa UchPe non' sjadreXiu mCaJiC IsStatVaX oSnXestca cTopn bi miIeiw fRigdlziL su Wqulesto' - ilq bloTro p$adCre nloRn aIvezvua lottca,tRoX ópDe,rI tGe!nqeHrli. GAveavGaf amcgc&eHttacto idXi pavgPaYr_e .ihl' BmLaOntewnVimentwol FeZ diQ lvsegdse!rMliW bokgnqil dJue Gfxine gsfetÉtiMmanJa', mam anjcrhéev quvesdto erna( qaualAc&osba óchce faczeGvxaI sernz!ap reTntuxsia)sqmxoK.$
Non li vedeva da due mesi, anche se aveva parlato con loro al telefono e su FaceTim; non si era fatto vedere di persona nemmeno una volta quest'estate. Viveva oltre la montagna, a due ore da dove eravamo noi, solo due misere ore di distanza tra lui e i suoi bambini e non riusciva mai a staccarsi.
"Mamma?" Cole si avvicinò, posando delicatamente una mano sul mio braccio.
Non mi ero nemmeno accorta di aver iniziato a piangere. Mi sfregai velocemente le guance mentre gli sorridevo. "Cosa c'è?"
"Ewhmg..q.u mOi cdhFieadUevRoC se poZt.ersFsuiqm!oN Da*nzdarée a,lb nmedgLoézWio a UcHercJaKreG ,l'FattlrdevzLzatuCraP pe)r q*u'e,stah UsetctAimaFnfan?é"n.é
Una richiesta così semplice. Non sapeva che avevamo solo duecento dollari sul conto corrente, né che suo padre non aveva pagato gli alimenti questo mese. Non sapeva che stavo scroccando ogni dollaro possibile, e non avevo intenzione di dirglielo.
"Sì, amico, andiamo".