Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Something beeped, and the door opened. A nurse rushed inside.
I took a deep breath, and the beeping leveled, but the nurse gave me a warning look.
“It’s good to see you’re awake, Mr. Benedetti, but you need to stay calm, or we’ll have to sedate you again.”
I opened my mouth to tell her to fuck off, but Lucia squeezed my hand and spoke to her.
“It’s okay. I’ll make sure he stays calm.”
“Thank you.”
The nurse left, and I looked back at Lucia.
“They called you pigheaded,” she said. “Well, I did actually, but they agreed.”
I smiled, but it hurt to speak or move. And as much as I wanted to keep looking at her, my eyelids began to droop.
“Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
I did, unable not to, and when I woke next, I was in a different room yet again, this one less sterile-looking. Lucia again sat by my bed, talking to her sister, who sat on another chair, and Effie, who was watching TV with the sound muted.
“He’s awake,” Isabella said.
Lucia turned to me. “Finally. I didn’t mean sleep for three more days.”
This was surreal. “I want to sit up.”
“Bossy already,” she teased and handed me a remote control. “Here, push this button. Stop if it’s painful.”
I pushed, and the bed moved. Effie came over to watch, entranced by the operation.
“Wow! Can I get one of those, Mommy?”
“No,” came Isabella’s voice.
I smiled and came to a stop when the slight throb at my side became painful. “How long has it been?”
“Almost two weeks.”
“I baked you some M&M cookies” Effie said, coming over with a tin. “They helped Luke, and he’s out of the hospital now. If you eat these, you’ll be out soon too.”
“That so?” I asked.
Lucia took the cookie Effie had fished out for me. “I’ll give it to him after his dinner, okay? We don’t want to spoil his first proper hospital meal, after all.”
I made a face, and so did Effie. She then turned to me. “Grilled cheese is the only safe thing,” she whispered. “And no matter what you do, do not eat the pea soup.”
I laughed but had to quit; it hurt too much.
“All right,” Isabella said, taking Effie’s hand. “Time for us to go.” She looked at me. “I’m glad you didn’t die.”
“Thank you?” I guessed.
Lucia walked them out then returned to me. “Effie’s a hoot,” she said.
“Yes. And I’m staying away from that pea soup. I trust that kid.” It grew quiet as our smiles faded.
“I thought you were dead. I couldn’t feel you breathe, and you were so still. And the blood…”
Her eyes filled with tears.
I reached up to touch her face, although my arm felt sore even with that small movement. “I’m not that easy to kill off.”
“I kept the clothes I was wearing.”
“Huh?”
She shrugged a shoulder. “With the blood.”
I must have made a face when I got what she was saying.
“I know, it’s creepy.”
“You can throw those away now. I’m not going anywhere. I have a promise to keep.”
She smiled.
“Where’s Dominic?”
She shook her head. “No one knows. He disappeared after that night. Good riddance.”
“He’s not my father’s son.”
“I know.”
“He wasn’t trying to kill me. You know that, right?”
“I don’t care, Salvatore. He almost did.”
I decided to drop it for now. “My father?”
“He had a heart attack, but he’s fine. He’s home already. Roman’s been running the show apparently. Probably waiting for you to get well enough to take over.” She snorted, her face changing, darkening.
“He had a heart attack?”
“I guess seeing one son shoot another was too much even for his cold heart.”
A knock came on the door. We both turned to see Roman peek his head in.
“I heard he was awake.”
“Come in,” Lucia said and stepped aside.
“Where are your crutches?” Salvatore asked me.
“You’ve been out a while. Long enough, my ankle’s mostly fine.”
“You should use them—”
“Bossy.”
“I need to talk to you,” Roman said to me, glancing at Lucia.
“I’ll wait outside,” Lucia said, picking up her bag.
“You can stay,” I told her.
She shook her head. “It’s fine. I’ll get some coffee.”
“Thank you,” Roman said.
Once she was gone, he sat in the seat she’d occupied and took a folder out of his briefcase.
“How are you feeling?”
“I’ve been better. What’s going on? Fill me in.”
“You know about your father’s heart attack?”
I nodded.
“Well, Franco is home and recovering. He’s not doing well, though, Salvatore.”
I didn’t reply.
“He wanted to come and see you, but the doctor advised him against it.”
“Okay.” Was he telling me that so my feelings wouldn’t be hurt?
“He knows you saved his life.”
“I didn’t do it for him. I did it because I knew my brother would regret it for the rest of his.”
“You have every right to feel the way you feel.”
“I don’t need you to tell me that.”
He inhaled a deep breath.
“Where’s Dominic?”
“I don’t know. He disappeared after the shooting. No one knows. He didn’t go home, didn’t pack, didn’t take anything with him. Just left.”