Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
I dropped my gaze, not wanting to think about the terrible things my brother had done to him.
He squeezed my hand, silently demanding my attention.
I looked at him again, sighing in pain. “I’m so sorry…” Out of nowhere, I burst into tears. I closed my eyes as I tried to control the tears before they escaped my closed eyelids, but there were so many of them that I couldn’t stop them. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I just—”
“Shh…” His palm moved to my cheek, his thumb catching some of my tears. “Baby, look at me.”
I refused to open my eyes.
“Don’t make me ask you again.” His strong voice sounded the way it used to, like his feelings for me hadn’t changed at all. Like he hadn’t changed at all.
I opened my eyes again, releasing a shaky breath.
“The bruises and scars will fade. I’ll defeat this—like I’ve defeated everything else. So, don’t feel bad for me. Don’t look at me like I’m weak. Because I’m still the strongest man you’ve ever met…and you’ll see that again soon enough.” His fingers slid down my face to my neck, where he squeezed me gently.
“But I did this to you…”
“You didn’t do anything,” he whispered. “Now I’ve paid for my sins, accepted my punishment for my crimes…and we can move on.” His hand moved back to mine on the tile, his fingers interlocking with mine. “I’ll be alright. I promise.”
I put the pills on the nightstand along with a glass of water.
He propped himself on one arm, which was a lot of movement for him since he’d been lying still all week, and he popped them into his mouth and swallowed with a splash of water. He lay down again. “Where have you been sleeping?”
“The couch.”
He turned to the other side of the bed and pulled down the covers. “Sleep with me.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea…”
“Why?” He stared up at me from his position on the bed, his head on the pillow.
“I don’t want to hurt you. You know, accidentally roll onto your arm or kick you…stuff like that.”
“No offense, baby. But you just don’t weigh enough to inflict any damage.” He patted the spot beside him. “And I’d sleep a lot better with you next to me.”
I didn’t want to deny him what he wanted, so I closed up the house, turned off all the lights, and then got into bed beside him. It was so nice to sleep in a bed again, the bed I used to sleep in all the time. The mattress was exactly as I remembered it, the sheets so soft. My head fell onto the soft pillow, and I turned to him, the covers pulled to my shoulder.
He stayed on his back but turned his head my way, like lying on his side was too much for him because of the injuries to his abdomen. But he reached out his hand to me, his fingers resting on mine. Then he stared at me, gazed at me with heavy eyes, like he was fighting the pain medication to stay awake, to continue to look at me. “When I saw your face, I thought I was hallucinating…”
I’d thought I was hallucinating too.
“And when I heard your voice, I thought I’d already died and gone to heaven…which didn’t make sense because there’s no way I’d ever make it through the gates unless I broke in. But your voice…it could only belong to an angel.”
My fingers gave his a gentle squeeze.
“What changed your mind?”
There was nothing that changed my mind. Balto’s words hadn’t made me feel different. My father’s wisdom hadn’t either. “Seeing you like that…”
His eyes softened. “Yeah, I know the feeling.” His eyes closed and he sighed, but he forced them open again, like he was trying to stay awake.
“Babe, go to sleep.” The more rest he got, the better.
His eyes stayed closed his time, but his lips rose in a smile. “Babe…I like it when you call me that.”
I stood in the kitchen as I made lunch, making lasagna and a Caesar salad, busting out YouTube as I tried to learn how to cook. I couldn’t just keep making the same five recipes since he needed better nutrition right now.
The downstairs doors opened and closed, and then Balto came up the stairs a moment later. “Something smells good.”
“Lasagna. Want to stay for dinner?”
“No. My wife cooks.”
I thought it was cute he referred to Cassini as his wife, even though I’d already met her and knew her by name.
I opened the oven door and pulled out the pan before I set it on the stove.
“How is he?”
“Better.”
He stopped at the kitchen counter and looked into the living room, where the TV was on for background noise.
“The past week was rough for him, just like you said it would be. But lately, he’s been making jokes, smiling, being himself. It’s really nice to see.” I stopped at the stove, staring at the lasagna as I felt the emotion catch in my throat.