"Personal, I think. She sounded..." He pauses. "Worried."
I nod. Valentino's mother, Carmela, doesn't worry easily. If she's concerned enough to summon him back to Sicily, it's serious.
"Go when you need to go."
"You'll be fine without me?"
"I'm not a child, Valentino."
He snorts. "Could have fooled me."
I shoot him a glare. He doesn't flinch. Never does.
That's why I trust him.
"Will can handle my sessions while you're gone," I say. "And Pietro's here. Nico. Lorenzo."
"Your brothers don't know about this." Valentino gestures at the parallel bars. At me. At everything I've been hiding for months.
"They don't need to know. Not yet."
"Bruno—"
"Not yet."
Valentino falls silent. He knows better than to push when my voice drops like that.
I take a breath. Center myself.
Then I stand.
My legs shake. They always shake. The muscles haven't fully remembered what they're supposed to do. Some days I can feel everything. Other days, nothing.
But I'm standing.
Fifteen seconds.
Twenty.
Thirty.
"Good," Valentino says quietly. "That's good."
I don't respond. Can't. All my focus is on staying upright.
Forty seconds.
Forty-five.
Last week, I took ten steps.
Ten actual steps.
The doctors said it wasn't possible. Said the damage to my spine was too severe. Said I should focus on adapting to my new reality instead of chasing impossible dreams.
But I do feel my spine. I didn't, but I do.
Fuck their reality.