Milo didn’t move. 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

Gallo had turned back to the wall. He was running one hand along the stone, checking the surface again, as if he were trying to jog his memory.

Milo’s breath caught. He suddenly felt suffocated.

He looked at Gallo, who said something to Salvatore about the thickness of the mortar. He didn’t catch it.

Salvatore responded. The conversation continued as usual.

Gallo looked at Milo. Just a casual glance, as if he were curious why the young man was standing there with a shocked expression on his face.

Then he turned his attention back to Salvatore.

Milo realized Gallo didn’t recognize him.

Milo’s hands were cold. After everything that had happened to him, why didn’t Gallo even recognize him?

He pressed his hands against his sides and stayed where he was while the room swirled around him. He couldn’t breathe.

Why did he feel this way?

Felix was leaning against the far wall, looking at his phone. He seemed busy, but occasionally he glanced at Gallo and Salvatore. When he saw how pale Milo was, he just smirked. He was sure the young man would get sick again.

So weak.

Roderick had moved toward the window opening and was looking out at the yard. He was more concerned about the workers outside.

Salvatore was walking slowly with Gallo through the interior, listening as the old man talked about the building’s original layout, where the storage had been, and what the floor would need.

Gallo spoke with ease; his face said it all. He looked like he missed the place so much. His voice trembled a little. Then he gestured toward the ceiling, toward the back wall, and toward the spot where a door had been bricked up with new stone.

He looked at Milo again, who was now staring at the floor.

He was curious why the young man was there. Portello’s guards weren’t usually so skinny and frail-looking. And he was sure Milo wasn’t part of Salvatore’s family.

But he said nothing, though he glanced back at Milo many times.

Milo gulped. His bad memory came back. That night. The day his uncle told him he would take him somewhere after his parents’ burial. He thought they were going to get ice cream, but instead they ended up at Hartley’s mansion.

And that night, for the first time in his life, he was truly scared as he realized his uncle had left him there, alone. With the most evil kid he’d ever known!

He remembered that day clearly. Every minute of it. He remembered waiting for his uncle to come back, who never did.

He looked down and forced himself to breathe.

Salvatore had glanced at Milo twice since entering the building. The young man was stiff and pale. He was afraid Milo might sense that Gallo was about to die. If that happened, it would be bad for him.

After several more minutes, Gallo nodded at something Salvatore said.

"I’ll accept," Gallo said. "I’ve thought about it enough. I miss this place like my own home. I know what it needs. But guarantee my safety. Hartley won’t be happy with my resignation."

Salvatore nodded. "Don’t worry about it. They can’t do anything to you. We’ll go over the details this week."

Gallo nodded. He looked around the room one last time. Then he moved toward the door.

He passed Milo in the doorway.

He didn’t stop.

Milo watched him go up the steps and out into the yard. Felix followed without being asked, straightening his jacket.

Felix looked at Milo with a blank stare but said nothing.

Salvatore then walked toward Milo.

He didn’t say anything right away. He looked at Milo’s face, then at his hands at his sides, then back at his face.

"Come outside," Salvatore said quietly.

Milo nodded and followed him out of the building and around the side of it, away from where Felix and Gallo were standing near the car.

Roderick stayed inside, busy talking on his phone.

Salvatore stopped outside and turned to face Milo.

"What happened in there? You look so pale. Did you notice anything unusual about him?"

Milo opened his mouth. Then closed it.

Salvatore waited. His expression was cautious, not pressing.

"No," Milo said. His voice was lower than usual. "Nothing strange about him. He looked healthy."

"Then what is it? Do you feel sick? Do you want to go home?"

Milo shook his head. He looked at the ground, the dry soil, the dead grass at the base of the wall. He tried to find the words to explain it clearly.

But it took him a few minutes.

"I just... didn’t expect to see him here," he said.

"Gallo? Why? Do you know him?"

Milo looked at Salvatore, as if he didn’t want to say it.

But Salvatore looked at him with a serious expression, waiting.

"He’s my uncle," Milo said finally.

Salvatore fell silent. He looked more shocked than Milo. He’d known Gallo for years when he was younger. And Milo had just said that the old man was his uncle?

The yard was quiet except for the sounds of workers on the roof in the distance and the distant voice of Roderick cursing at people on his phone.

Salvatore didn’t respond immediately. He just looked at Milo.

Then he took a deep breath. "You sure?"

"Yes." Milo swallowed. "He’s changed a lot. He looks so old now. But I remember his face." He had a very good memory for faces.

Salvatore exhaled through his nose once. He looked toward the dry field, then back at Milo. "I knew that man very well." He paused. "And you’re telling me he’s your uncle."

Milo nodded. "Yes..."

"If he really is your uncle, why didn’t you say anything to him?"

Milo looked down again. His hands were still cold. He could feel it in his fingers. "He didn’t recognize me. If he didn’t recognize me, then it’s better that way."

"Better how?"

Milo was quiet for a moment. "He’s the one who left me with Nero when I was a kid. After my parents died, he brought me to Nero and left me there. So I’m sure he didn’t want to see me again."

Salvatore looked at Milo. His body stiffened at the news. "What? He’s the one who sent you to Nero? Why would he do that?"

The sounds from the roof continued. A hammer, footsteps, a voice calling out to another worker.

"I don’t know why he did it. I never understood it." He pressed his hands harder against his sides. "If he doesn’t want to know me, I don’t want to know him either. It’s easier."

Salvatore looked at him for a long moment. Then his eyes went to Milo’s hands.

Then he moved closer. He reached out and took both of Milo’s hands in one firm grip.

Milo looked up, startled. His cold fingers pressed against Salvatore’s warm palms.

Salvatore pulled him forward, one hand moving to Milo’s back, and pressed him against his chest. Not roughly, just steadily.

Milo widened his eyes; he stood very still. His face was pressed against the fabric of Salvatore’s jacket. He could feel the man’s warmth through it and smell the faint trace of cigarette smoke and something else, clean and musky.

He didn’t move at all. His heart pounded hard. He hadn’t expected Salvatore to hug him in an open space!

"If you can’t face him, then you don’t have to," Salvatore said. His voice came from just above Milo’s head, lower than usual. "If you don’t want to see him, I’ll keep you away from him. You don’t owe him anything."

Milo said nothing. His pain, his hurt, his memories, for a moment vanished, swept away by Salvatore’s warm words and embrace.

He didn’t know a hug like this could feel so good.

"But I need him here," Salvatore continued. "He is the only person who knows this vineyard well enough to bring it back. That is the only reason he is standing in my yard right now."

"Yes, sir," Milo said. His voice was slightly muffled. "I understand that."

"It has nothing to do with you. Whatever he did, that is separate from this."

Milo closed his eyes for a moment. His chest still pounded hard, just as it had when he first stepped onto the property, and he couldn’t explain why. But now it felt different.

They stood there for a few more seconds.

Then Salvatore straightened up and stepped back. He let Milo catch his breath.

Milo looked at the dry rows of vines stretching across the flat ground. His face felt warm again.

He looked at Salvatore. He realized that no matter what people might think of that man, to him, Salvatore was his savior. Even in moments of weakness.

"Thank you, Sir. I won’t cause you any trouble."

Salvatore looked at him steadily. "That’s good. Do you want to go home now?"

Milo met his eyes. "No, Sir. I’m fine. I want to go out with you."

Salvatore held his gaze for a moment. Then he smirked, nodded once, and turned toward the car.

"Let’s go buy some clothes for you and try using your card."