His Return

17~

*Its been so long, I highly recommend going back and rereading the last chapter*

A very short chapter to get back into the swing of things.

I look down at the stack of papers from Michael. There's five different cases about people noticing drastic changes in their spouses, only to learn they have a tumor pressing on a part of the brain that controls personality traits.

"Please, at least consider this." He begs me and shoving the papers into my hand. "I would have never, in my right mind, divorced you."

His green eye are boring into my own blue ones.

"I have." I tell him as gently as I can although the truth is I haven't because I don't know what to do if that were the case. This is such painful situation that I never expected to be in.

I've spent the past eight years believing that my husband cheated and left me and to just blame it away on a tumor... It would be too easy.

"We'll start slow." He whispers, pulling me toward him, ignoring me as I pull away.

"No." I say, pushing against his chest. "There's nothing for us." I watch as his eyes squeeze shut, as if he's in pain, then he starts muttering in Italian. "But the kids need you." I gently touch his bare arm, feeling it tense. "Just promise me you won't hurt them, please." I'm begging him, the thought of our children being hurt anymore causing a raw ache to spread through my chest.

"Prometto, amore mio, sono qui ora e non me ne andrò mai più." (I promise, my love, I'm here now and I'm never leaving again.)

"Michael." I sigh, half of me loving how his family language rolls off his tongue and the other half is frustrated that he always uses Italian when we argue.

"Prometto." He repeats gently gripping my upper arms. "Prometto. I promise." He pulls me against him, dropping his head against my shoulder. "Prima i bambini, poi tu." (The children first, then you.) He whispers, inhaling sharply. "Ho bisogno di novo della mia famiglia." (I need my family back.)

Family. I may not know much Italian but I knew that one, it used to be one of Michael's favorites- famiglia.

"Sam," I attempt to stop the goosebumps that travel across my body as Michael exhales against my neck. "He's part of our family, if you're staying in Stadia, you have to accept him."

His head slowly moves on my shoulder as he nods.

"Okay. But please, Kate," he straightens his form, pinning me with his emerald gaze. "Tell him to stop touching you, it's like I dagger, right here." His warm fingers wrap around my own as he brings my hand up to his chest, pressing directly over his heart which seems to be racing just as fast as my own.

The millions of times I've fallen asleep with my ear in that same spot flash through my mind.

"Okay." I pull my hand away from him. "Okay, I'll tell him. But you can't touch me either."

His jaw clenches tightly in frustration, but he nods, shoving his fists into the pockets of his jeans.

"Let's go downstairs." I suggest softly, my grip on the case studies tightening.

Sam is standing in the kitchen, turning to us when we walk in.

"Thank-you," Michael suddenly holds his hand out to Sam. "Thank-you for taking care of my family." Sam looks at me before his eyes travel back to Michael and he grips the extended hand. "If you ever touch my wife again," Michael's voice lowers but is hard as steel while his knuckles whiten.

"Michael." I warn when I notice his hand clench around Sam's.

"I'll kill you." My jaw drops at the deadly look in Michael's eye. He's never been violent, afraid of being anything like his murdering father.

"If you ever hurt your wife again," Sam lowers his voice so it matches Michael's, then he leans in and whispers something into his ear.

"Stop!" I shout when Michael suddenly growls, gripping the front of Sam's shirt, and pushing him against the nearest wall. "Michael."

"It's would be best..." Michael growls, releasing Sam's shirt. "If you stop intentionally pissing me off."

He breathes heavily and I hold my arm breath while Sam straightens his shirt before quirking a brow at Michael.

"Truce?"

Michael nods stiffly in response and the tension in the kitchen seems to slightly dissipate.

That is until Mikey walks into the kitchen a moment later, looking between the three of us before walking over to Sam who quietly asks him if he's ready to leave.

"Yep." Mikey nods, glancing at me. "Only yard work, I know."

"And we're having another talk when you get home."

Mikey nods his head again before looking towards his father and I find myself holding my breath in anxiety.

"I'll be in the truck." He mutters softly, leaving the kitchen, Sam right behind him.

"I guess we should talk about what to do next." I tell Michael when I hear the front door close.

"Yeah," he softly clears his throat, a look of pain closing his features. "I guess we should."