It's a Hero...No! It's My Mate

Isla Kalashnikov (P.O.V.)

When Alessandro and I made it back inside of the house, we immediately made our way to my bedroom. As I laid him down on the bed to rest, as he was in a bit of pain, I made my way into my parents’ room to fetch some clothes for him.

My father was a small man and in comparison, to Alessandro, he was tiny. However, I do recall my father owning a few shirts that I bought for him when I was younger. Little me may have overestimated how much of a giant my father really was not because the shirt was about three times his size. I dove into their dresser, making sure to steer clear of the underwear drawer and I searched for the shirt.

Conveniently, my mother also kept brand new boxers in the closet for my father because he had a tendency to tear his clothes regularly. I would not even know how and why that occurred and I do not think I want to know either.

I found the pack of boxers and the shirts, and I returned t