Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74575 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74575 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
I started pouring.
"Oh, baby," Santi said, voice low as he moved forward, sitting off the side of my bed, grabbing my good shoulder with his big hand.
"I'm not crying," I insisted, even as I felt the tears sliding down my cheeks.
"No, no of course not," he agreed.
"It's probably from the anesthesia. It's a side effect." I'd once brought my step-mother for oral surgery, and she cried through the whole aftercare discussion while the dentist explained to me it was perfectly normal.
That was the only rational explanation.
Because I never cried.
No matter how hurt or how sick or how scared.
Never.
I'd made myself too tough for that.
Too strong for that.
Except maybe, when I realized I was with someone who was strong enough for the two of us, I could be a little weaker, I could let myself feel what I was going through for a change.
"Makes total sense to me," Santi agreed. "But, you know, if you were crying, that would be okay," he said. "You've had a rough day. I'd probably be crying too if I fell on my ass as many times as Avi said you did."
"Little brat. Ratting me out while I was half-dead on a hospital table," I grumbled, reaching up to wipe the tears off my face.
"I owe you, Alessa," Santi said, giving my shoulder a squeeze.
"You don't owe me anything. Literally anyone would have done the same thing."
"You acted quicker than anyone else could have. You saved my kid, Alessa. Don't act like that's nothing. It's everything."
"Do you have any leads?"
"Don't," Santi said, shaking his head. "We're not talking about that. It's being handled."
"I want to know," I insisted. "I'm so sick of everyone keeping me out of the loop because I'm not technically Family."
"Hey, no one is saying that," Santi said. "You're Family. But you need to focus on recovering, nothing else. That's all this is."
"They shot me, Santi," I reminded him. "They would have shot Avi. I want to know when you find the bastards."
"I'll let you know. But you're not getting involved. Besides, I hear you are going to be laid up for a while."
"I haven't talked to the doctor yet, but I imagine the hip injury is going to keep me down for a bit."
"I told Avi you're coming back with us. I know your family wants to take care of you. And if your step-mom wants to come and do that, she's more than welcome. Brothers too. But you're coming back with us."
"I know I scared Avi today. He's been through so much."
"It's not about that," Santi insisted.
"Of course it is."
"It matters, yeah, that he knows you're okay," Santi said. "But I want you there."
"I'll be useless," I reminded him. "I won't be able to take Avi to school or his after school stuff. I won't even be able to play with him for a while."
"Alessa, I don't want you there to take care of Avi. I want you there so we can take care of you."
"I'm a terrible patient."
"I recall."
"I will likely need help changing my bandages," I told him.
"I can handle a little blood."
"I'll need to eat at least... five or six times a day. Full meals."
"I'll be happy to contract that out. The women in our Families love a reason to throw together some extra dishes."
"It can't be healthy," I insisted.
"Not a single piece of lettuce. I'll put the word out," he agreed.
"You know me well," I said. Light, flip.
"I'm getting there," he agreed, and there was nothing light or flip about his tone.
"Santi, honey," Celeste said, peeking in. "The doctors would like a minute with Alessa," she said, giving me a smile, pressing a hand to her heart in silent gratitude.
"I'll be back in a bit."
"You should take Avi home," I said. "He's had a rough day. He looks exhausted."
"He will want to bring you your snacks," Santi said. "But after that, I will take him home. Hopefully you can get out of here tomorrow."
"Oh, I am getting out of here," I insisted. I didn't care if I had to sign myself out against doctor's orders.
"Stubborn," he said, smirking at me.
"Oh, sure, you find it charming now. But when I am rejecting help that I really need, you might not like it so much."
"I guess I'll have to see for myself," he said, giving me soft eyes as he moved halfway out of the door. "Alessa?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you," he said, giving me a nod, and rushing out before I could tell him to stop thanking me.
After that, the doctor came in to give me his spiel before I was bombarded by my step-mother, father, and brothers for a while.
Until, eventually, Ciro—of all people—pushed them all out.
"Thanks," I said, giving him a small smile. "They were driving me a little nuts."
"I could tell," he agreed. "You alright?"
"A little tired," I admitted.