Chapter 4 Leave Her Alone Behind

Stephanie's POV

I froze, clearly not following. "What?"

He looked me up and down, his voice flat, almost cold. "How can you be this thin?"

I stood there frozen, my outstretched hand still hanging in midair, the smile on my face slowly stiffening.

I wasn't sure what he meant by that. Normally, I might've taken it as some kind of concern.

But today was different. I'd just been mocked by Jessica, and in this moment, it was hard not to read his words as criticism.

For a beat, I didn't know whether to drop my hand or leave it there.

Christopher spoke suddenly. "Sorry."

He seemed to be clarifying. "I'm very direct." Only then did he reach out and shake my hand briefly.

His hand was cold. The contact lasted less than a second before he let go, turned, and walked to his seat.

Scarlett quickly tried to smooth things over. "Honey, don't take it to heart. Christopher spent years in the military. He's just very blunt. He doesn't mean any harm, really."

I forced a smile. "It's fine."

I sat back down but couldn't bring myself to eat anymore. I barely touched the rest of the meal.

Scarlett clearly didn't want the mood to completely die. She stood. "Stephanie, come look at Lorenzo's baby pictures. They're adorable."

She took my hand and led me away from the dining table toward a bookshelf in the corner of the living room.

It was lined with photo albums. She pulled out a thick blue one and opened to the first page.

The photo showed a blonde baby with his mouth wide open in a gummy smile.

"This is Lorenzo at six months." Scarlett's voice was full of warmth. "Look at him. He's always been such a happy baby."

I forced myself to focus on the photos, turning page after page.

Lorenzo's childhood had been meticulously documented.

His first time learning to ride a bike, covered in mud after a fall. Dressed as a tiny superhero for Halloween. Wearing a slightly ridiculous square cap at his elementary school graduation.

"This one's from when he played football in middle school." Scarlett pointed to a photo.

In it, Lorenzo was about fifteen, wearing a slightly too-big jersey, face paint smeared on his cheeks, holding a trophy and grinning like an idiot at the camera.

Behind him stood a tall man in athletic gear, one hand resting casually on Lorenzo's shoulder.

That was Christopher.

He looked much younger then, probably early twenties. His features weren't as hard as they were now, and there was even a faint trace of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

"That's Christopher." Scarlett noticed where I was looking and explained softly.

"Lorenzo's always looked up to him. Christopher was special forces before he got out, so... as you can see, some of his habits are different from most people."

I hesitated. "After getting out... can he still legally carry a gun?"

Scarlett's smile dimmed slightly. "That's his service weapon. After discharge, his work... anyway, he has all the proper licenses."

I couldn't help glancing back toward the dining room, my eyes landing on him.

What exactly did he do? He seemed shrouded in mystery.

Scarlett closed the album. "Christopher's a good man, just not very gentle in how he talks. Lorenzo's father died when he was young, and Christopher's been like a father to him in a lot of ways. So he's always very invested in Lorenzo's life, and naturally that includes Lorenzo's girlfriend. He just doesn't know how to soften his words. Don't take it personally."

I nodded but didn't know what else to say.

Just then, Lorenzo's phone rang.

He answered, said a few words, and his face lit up.

"Hey! What? Right now? Where?"

He walked toward the hallway, still listening.

"Of course! I'll be right there! Wait, let me tell my mom first..."

Lorenzo walked back. "Mom, the team's doing an impromptu thing at a bar in the East District. I swear I won't drink, just gonna show my face. I'll be back soon!"

Scarlett sighed. "Honey, Stephanie's still here."

"Oh, right." Lorenzo turned to me, pressing his hands together like he was praying.

"Babe, you don't mind, right? It's just a quick thing. I'll pop in and come right back. You can hang out here a little longer. My mom really likes you—you two can keep talking!"

Disappointment sank through my chest.

This was my first time at his house, and he was planning to bail halfway through.

"But how will I get home?" I asked.

"I'll take you later." Lorenzo said it automatically, then clearly hesitated.

"But... if they want to hit a second spot... how about this—you wait here for me, and I'll be back as soon as I can!"

"Lorenzo." Christopher's voice cut through from the dining table.

"You're planning to leave your girlfriend here alone while you go party?"

Lorenzo scratched his head. "Just for a little bit..."

"I'll take her home." Christopher set his napkin on the table and stood.

He was half a head taller than Lorenzo. When he rose, that commanding presence returned.

"No need, Uncle!" Lorenzo said quickly. "I'll really be back soon!"

"You've already made up your mind to go." Christopher walked up to him.

"So you need to think this through. Either take her with you, or cancel. Leaving a guest here alone isn't how you treat someone you care about."

Lorenzo's expression shifted. He looked at me, then at Christopher, and finally bit his lip.

"Stephanie, I'm so sorry." He turned to me, guilt written all over his face.

"But this thing is really important. My coach is gonna be there. If I don't show..."

"Just go." I cut him off. "I can get home on my own."

"Really?" Lorenzo's eyes immediately brightened.

"Yeah." I nodded, not wanting to make things worse.

Lorenzo immediately pulled me into a hug and kissed my cheek. "Thank you, babe! You're the best! I'll totally make it up to you tomorrow!"

Before he'd even finished speaking, he was already jogging upstairs to grab his jacket. A few minutes later, he came barreling back down with his keys, shoving his feet into his shoes at the door. "Mom, Uncle, I'm out! Stephanie, text me when you get home!"

The door slammed shut.

The dining room went quiet again. Scarlett's face showed a flicker of embarrassment. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but in the end just sighed.

"That boy..." She shook her head, then looked back at me, her smile returning.

"Stephanie, don't let it bother you. Lorenzo's just a little... impulsive. Would you like some dessert? I made apple pie."

"No, thank you." I smiled politely. "You've already been so generous today. I should probably get going."

"I'll drive you." Christopher said.

"Really, you don't have to." I said quickly. "I can call a ride."

"At this hour, in this neighborhood, you'll be waiting at least forty minutes." Christopher had already picked up his keys from the table.

"I'll take you. Go grab your coat."

I wanted to refuse again, but Scarlett gently touched my hand. "Let Christopher take you. It'll make me feel better. Drive safe, honey. Come back and visit soon."

I could only nod and head upstairs to get my bag and coat.

Christopher drove smoothly and barely spoke the entire ride. The silence made me restless. I kept stealing glances at him in the rearview mirror.

His profile was sharp in the passing streetlights, his jaw tight, his Adam's apple shifting slightly when he swallowed.

He noticed me watching but didn't turn his head.

"About earlier, I apologize again," he said suddenly.

I blinked. "For what?"

"What I said about you being too thin." He paused, as if choosing his words carefully. "I didn't mean to offend you. I was making an observation."

"An observation?" I repeated.

"Your weight's at least fifteen percent below the healthy range for women your age and height," he said.

"But you train intensely with the cheer squad, which means either your metabolism's unusually high, or your caloric intake isn't sufficient. Given that you're an athlete, the former's more likely, but the latter can't be ruled out."

He was so matter-of-fact that I didn't know how to respond.

"I'm just..." He hesitated, which seemed rare for him. "Not good at small talk."

"I can tell," I said quietly.

Christopher just gave a soft "Mm."

The car rolled on for a bit, then he spoke again, shifting gears. "Does Lorenzo pull this kind of thing often?"