24. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Leo

While I hoped to talk to Rosa at Supercharged, I never got the opportunity. And I didn’t want to ruin the day for the elder Alonso. She seemed so happy, smiling and laughing and regaling stories to my teammates.

It would’ve put a damper on the mood if I brought up the whole assisted living issue then. Which is why I’m here today. At her place. In her living room.

I rub the back of my neck, feeling the tension coiled there like a spring ready to snap. Rosa’s living room is cozy, filled with the scent of lavender and the soft hum of a clock ticking somewhere in the background.

I rub the back of my neck as Rosa looks at me expectantly. She’s seated in her favorite armchair, a floral-patterned relic from another era, with her fingers wrapped around the teacup like it’s an extension of herself. Perfectly comfortable.

Unlike me.

“So, to what do I owe this pleasure? Surely you didn't come all this way just for my tea and company.”

I shift on the floral couch, the fabric rough against my palms. My hands are sweaty, for fuck’s sake. Ridiculous. I’ve faced down enforcers twice my size without flinching, but here I am, in this quaint living room, feeling like a rookie about to take his first shift on the ice. I take a deep breath. No point in beating around the bush. “We need to talk about your living situation.”

The playful glint in her eyes vanishes, replaced by a steely resolve that makes my stomach tighten. “And what about it needs discussing?”

“The medication incident. The issues with health aides. It's not safe for you to live alone yet everything Cat tries you fight against.” I reach into my jacket pocket, pulling out a few brochures, then spread them on the coffee table, the glossy paper a stark contrast to the worn wood. “I've looked into some assisted living facilities besides the ones the hospital recommended. They're not what you think. You'd have independence but help when you need it.”

Rosa’s gaze flicks down to the brochures, her lips pressing into a thin line. “The answer is no, so save your breath. I’m not leaving my home just because I took the wrong amount of my medicine.”

“The incident could have been really serious, Rosa.”

“But it wasn’t.”

I drum my fingers against my thigh as I try to find the right words. Then I lean forward, my elbows digging into my knees. “Look, I’m not here trying to force you to make a decision. But Cat is worried about you. I’m worried about you. Your granddaughter is trying to find a balance between what you want and what you need—what medical professionals are even saying you need—without causing a rift in our relationship with you.”

“Sounds like you speak from experience.”

I run a hand through my hair, tugging slightly at the roots. Shit. I don't do this. Don't open up. But if it'll help . . . “I have a brother. Winston. Haven't seen him in years.”

Her expression softens, the hard line of her mouth easing just a fraction. “What happened?”

“He moved to London. Our mother . . . she’s a lot. When Winston came out, she turned it into this whole production that wasn’t about supporting my brother. It was about her.”

“So he left?”

“Yeah.” The word comes out rougher than I intend, scraping against my throat like sandpaper. “What she did not only caused a rift between the two of them but the entire family. He doesn’t even have a relationship with his niece and nephew. Cat’s trying to avoid this situation getting to that level.”

Rosa leans back in her chair, taking a sip of her tea.

I fold my hands, allowing some time to pass before continuing. “I know change is scary, leaving what's familiar. But sometimes it's necessary. Sometimes it opens up new opportunities.”

“This isn't just about change, Leo. This is my life.”

“I know. No one's trying to take that away from you. We want you to be safe, to have the best quality of life possible.” I gesture to the brochures, the glossy images of smiling seniors and well-kept facilities almost mocking in their brightness. “These places, they're not prisons. They're about support when you need it, freedom when you don't.”

Rosa picks up one of the brochures, her fingers tracing the edges as she flips through the pages, her brows pinching together. “And my friends? My routines?”

“The ones I looked into have communities.” I lean over to point out features on one of the brochures. “They organize outings, have clubs. You can still go out, have visitors. It’s not about taking away your independence; it’s about making sure you’re safe while still living your life.”

She’s quiet for a moment. Then she looks up at me, a sly smile spreading across her face, and I know that look. It’s the same one Cat gets when she’s about to say something that’ll drive me up the wall. “For someone so concerned about my living situation, you seem to be avoiding your own issues.”

I blink, caught off guard. “What?”

“You and my granddaughter. Don't think I haven't noticed the way you look at her.”

Heat creeps up my neck, spreading to my ears. Dammit. “Rosa, I—”

“Ah, ah.” She cuts me off, wagging a finger. “Don't try to deny it. I may be old, but I'm not blind. So, tell me, what are your intentions?”

I sigh, running a hand over my face, trying to hide the flush that’s creeping up my cheeks. This woman is relentless, like a dog with their favorite chew toy. “It’s complicated.”

“Life’s complicated. That's not an answer.”

I swallow hard, my fingers tracing the edge of the table as if searching for steady ground. No point in bullshitting her. She'd see right through it anyway. “I care about Cat, more than I thought I could care about someone after my wife.”

“And?” Rosa leans forward, her eyes boring into me.

“And . . . I'm scared.” The admission sits uncomfortably on my tongue, like trying to fit into a coat that’s not mine. “I'm falling for her, but the timing's wrong. There's so much going on, so many people to consider.”

Rosa leans back in her chair, fixing me with a piercing gaze that makes me feel like I'm under a microscope. “Let me tell you something. There's never a perfect time for love. Life’s always going to be complicated. If you wait for everything to be perfect, you'll be waiting forever.”

My hand tightens around the armrest of the love seat, knuckles whitening. “I know, but—”

“No buts,” she interrupts, her voice sharp. “You've already lost one love. Don't let fear keep you from finding another.”

A tightness coils around my chest, every breath shallow and forced, as if the air itself is resisting me. “It's more than just fear.” My voice falters, and I look down, my hands gripping the arms of the chair like they’re the only thing keeping me grounded. “ It's responsibility to my kids, the team, Cat herself. What if it doesn't work out?”

Rosa reaches over, patting my hand. Her skin is soft, papery thin across prominent veins. “That's the risk we all take. But let me ask you this—what if it does work out?”

Her words rattle around in my head, bumping up against my doubts and fears. She has a point, as much as I hate to admit it. “You're pretty wise for someone who’s denying her own well-being.”

She laughs, a warm, rich sound that fills the room. “Touché, Leo. Touché.” She picks up another brochure, her expression thoughtful. “How about we make a deal?”

I lean back, one corner of my mouth quirking up as I nod for her to continue. “Go on.”

“I'll agree to read through the brochures—actually give them a fair chance. But in return, you have to promise me something.”

“What's that?”

“You tell Cat how you feel. No more hiding behind excuses.”

My heart rate picks up at the thought, a nervous energy thrumming through my veins, making my hands twitch with the urge to do something, anything, to distract myself. “Rosa, I don't know.”

“Those are my terms,” she says firmly, her tone brooking no argument. “Take them or leave them.”

I sit there for a moment, weighing my options. On one hand, telling Cat how I feel terrifies me. On the other, getting Rosa to even consider assisted living is a huge step. And maybe she’s right.

Maybe it's time to stop letting fear dictate my life. “Counter offer, I’ll talk to Cat if you not only agree to read through the brochures seriously but also pick a few of them to visit.”

She’s quiet for a moment, then nods. We shake hands, her grip stronger than I expect.

“You know, Leo, you never did tell me why you're so invested in this. Catharina, I understand—I'm her grandmother. But you? You barely know me.”

It’s a question I’ve asked myself more than once, but the answer comes easily now, like it’s been there all along, just waiting for me to acknowledge it. “Guess it’s because I care about Cat, and I know how much you mean to her.”

“You're a good man, Leo Hartman. My granddaughter is lucky to have you in her life.”

“I'm the lucky one.”

“How about we agree to disagree?” She extends her hand. “Do we have another deal?”

With a smile, my heart suddenly full—this woman really is something else—I take hers and shake it again. “Deal.”