I didn’t want to start my stay with my parents bogging us all down in an ugly fight. After years of practice biting my tongue, I could put the skill to use, then make damn sure my parents understood this was never, ever to happen again. “Fine. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” Though the words were a concession, nothing was conciliatory about my tone. I wanted there to be no misunderstanding that I was not happy about this.

“Good girl,” he murmured, reaching out to stroke my hair. “You know we only want what’s best for you.” He gave one more tight smile, then left the room.

Once I was alone, my lungs deflated, and my shoulders curved inward. In less than twenty-four hours, I was being forced to face Nico for a second time. At least I had a moment to compose myself before our next exchange.

I grabbed my phone to go clean up and noticed a text from Michael.

You surviving your family?

I huffed out a laugh at the accuracy of his question. That was what I did when I was with my family—survived. I was never happy. I just drifted from one day to the next.

I suppose. If I need to be rescued, I’ll let you know. Rescued. Why should I need to be rescued from my own family? I wasn’t a child anymore. Didn’t I have the strength to take control of my life rather than let them lead me along like a trained retriever?

Lunch tomorrow?

I’m helping my mom get ready for graduation. Next week?

Sounds good.

The more I thought about it, the more determined I became. If my parents insisted I joined them for dinner, then I would do it on my terms. Hell, if I truly wanted, I didn’t have to stay at their house. Not everything in life was a choice, but I had to take ownership of the things under my control. It was easy to bitch and moan about things just because they were hard, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a choice. Sometimes, circumstances made that choice a difficult one, but it was still a choice.

Dinner was my choice. I would attend my parents’ little setup, but I wouldn’t play the simpering, wounded puppy. I would be the strong, independent woman I knew myself to be. Nico could only upset me as much as I allowed him to, and I was choosing not to let him affect me at all.

I was a Genovese, and we were made of cold steel.

Being home had allowed me to regress and fall into being the scared little girl I’d been for so long. In a matter of hours, I’d forgotten the woman I’d become. They didn’t know that side of me, but they didn’t know a lot of things. It was no surprise Michael was the one to remind me, even if that hadn’t been his intention.

Michael had been my lifeline after Nico left. He picked me up off the ground, dusted me off, and helped me find myself.