Chapter 40 Marco #2
What I could. Right. What I could was get my face eaten and nearly get the woman I care for more than anything in this world killed trying to save my stupid ass.
“The irony.” I laugh. It comes out wrong. Bitter and sharp. “I spent my whole career preparing food. Turns out I became the food instead.”
Ethan doesn’t laugh. Just watches me.
“And all my money.” I keep going because apparently I can’t stop. “All those resources. Security teams. Protocols. Preparation. Satphones. Bear spray. None of it mattered. That bear didn’t give a fuck how rich I am.”
“Money doesn’t stop nature.” His voice is gentle. Probably the same tone he uses with trauma patients in shock.
I am in shock. Have been since I woke up.
“I nearly got them killed.” I continue. The words scrape out. Raw. “My daughter. The woman I...” I stop. Can’t finish that sentence. Not yet. Not when I look like something out of a horror film.
“You didn’t get anyone killed.” Ethan’s voice turns hard. “You drew that bear away from them. Took the hit yourself. That’s not failure. That’s what a father does.”
Is it? Because a real father wouldn’t have brought his anxious five year old into bear country in the first place. Wouldn’t have been so obsessed with teaching respect and rites of passage that he ignored every red flag.
Jess tried to tell me. Her fear was written all over her face. Her women’s intuition knew something was wrong with that fucking trip. And I pushed anyway.
Because I always push. Always think I know better. Always assume control equals safety.
Fucking idiot.
The door opens. A different nurse this time. Older. Stern looking.
“Mr. Fiore needs rest.” She gives Ethan a pointed look.
Too loud, much too loud.
I nervously glance at Ben and Jess.
Still asleep, thankfully.
“Five more minutes.” I try to make it sound like a request. Comes out more like an order.
She hesitates. Then nods. Leaves us alone again.
I’m starting to feel really sleepy myself again.
Ethan shifts. “I should let you sleep anyway. Just wanted to check in.”
“Wait.” I shift in the bed. Everything screams in protest. Dull pain becomes searing. Already? “I thought you wanted to wake them up so they could see me?”
He shrugs. “Changed my mind. I don’t want to force it if you’re not ready. Are you?”
I consider a moment. The drowsiness is really getting to me. “No, I suppose not.”
He nods. “Sleep well, Marco. Heal up.” He turns to go.
“Before you go,” I say to his back. “Can you... tell them to hit me with another dose? Morphine.”
He looks over his shoulder, and his expression softens. “Yeah. I’ll tell them.”
I smile blissfully, already imagining the pain fading. “Thanks.”
But Ethan looks back then and says softly: “Marco. What Jess did out there. Keeping Ben safe. Spraying that bear when it was on you. That took serious guts.”
I know.
I fucking know.
“Tell her.” My voice cracks. “Tell her I said thank you.”
“Tell her yourself. When you’re ready.” Then he’s gone.
I’m alone with the pain and the guilt and the two sleeping shapes in the corner.
The nurse arrives, adjusts the morphine drip, and sweet bliss pulls me under before I can think too hard about anything.
I dream I’m in the kitchen at Osteria Fiore.
Prep station.
But something’s wrong.
The burners are too hot.
Flames licking higher than they should.
I reach to adjust them.
My hand slips.
I’m falling.
Face first into the grill.
I wake up screaming.
Or trying to scream. What comes out is more of a wet gargle. The pain is back. Worse than before. Like someone poured gasoline on my face and lit a match.
“Morphine.” I’m begging again. Don’t care. “Please. Morphine.”
Movement from the corner. Ben’s awake. So is Jess. Both staring at me with wide eyes.
Fuck.
Exactly what I didn’t want.
Them seeing me like this.
Hearing me begging like a junkie for my next fix.
Tears spring up in my eyes, either from the pain, or the thought of what I’ve become, or both.
Jag appears from somewhere. Must have been standing outside. He moves fast. Hits the call button. Within seconds the nurse is back.
She adjusts the IV without a word. Knows the drill by now.
The fire dims. Doesn’t disappear.
Just.
Dims.
I close my eyes. Force my breathing to steady. I want to go to sleep again.
But... I can’t. Not yet.
When I open them again Jag is sitting in the chair Jess just vacated. Jess meanwhile is kneeling beside Ben’s chair. Whispering something to my daughter I can’t hear. My daughter meanwhile is just staring at me, her eyes these huge saucers.
Fuck.
“Sorry.” The word comes out rough. “Didn’t mean to wake you guys.”
“Don’t apologize.” Jess stands. Moves closer. Her hand finds mine. The one that’s not bandaged. Her fingers are relatively steady. “You’re in pain. It’s okay.”
It’s not okay.
None of this is fucking okay.
But I don’t say that. Just squeeze her hand once. Let her know I heard.
Why can’t I be one of those fucking heroes? The ones who get mauled by sharks or crushed in car wrecks and show up on morning talk shows cracking jokes about their missing limbs. All smiles and positive attitudes. “Just grateful to be alive.” Bullshit like that.
Instead I’m lying here begging for morphine and wishing everyone would just fucking leave me alone so I can fall apart in peace.
Ben climbs out of her chair. Frederick is tucked under one arm.
She approaches the bed slowly. Like I’m something fragile that might break.
Which I probably am.
“Daddy?” Her voice is so small. “Do you need more stickers?”
“Not right now, piccola.” I try to smile. Have no idea if my face even moves anymore. “But thank you.”
She nods. Serious. Then climbs into Jess’s lap when Jess sits back down. Jag meanwhile gets up and moves to the door to stand watch.
We sit in silence. Just the four of us. Jag by the door. Jess and Ben in the chair. Me in this fucking bed feeling drowsier than ever. That’s the problem with morphine. It dulls not just pain, but everything.
Finally I break the silence. I need to talk to them before sleep takes me again. “Ben needs to go to school.”
Jess’s head snaps up. “Marco.”
“She’s missing too much. It’s not good for her.”
“She won’t be able to concentrate.” Jess’s voice is firm. Not arguing. Just stating fact. “This... what happened to you... will make her anxiety worse. Not better. School is not a good idea.”
She’s right. Of course she’s right.
I know my daughter. Know that sitting in a classroom pretending everything’s normal when her father’s in the hospital looking like something from a nightmare will break her.
“Homeschool her then.” I adjust my grip on the bed rail.
“I want her to be close you,” Jess says. “Home—”
“Fine,” I say, defeated. “Do it here. There has to be a room nearby you can use. I’ll have my people get in touch with the hospital head.”
Jess studies me. I can see her weighing it. Deciding if I’m being reasonable or just controlling everything from my hospital bed like usual.
Probably both.
“Okay.” She nods slowly. “We can do that. For now.”
“And at night.” I push on before I lose my nerve. “You both should sleep at the townhouse. Not here. You need real beds. Real rest. And it’s a hospital! They don’t want non-patients here 24/7.”
“Marco.” Her voice softens. “We’re fine here. And the staff don’t mind.”
“You’re not fine.” I let some of the command back into my voice. The executive tone that makes people listen. “Look at you. You’re exhausted. Ben’s exhausted. Go home. Sleep. Come back in the morning.”
She opens her mouth. Closes it. I can see her running the numbers. Weighing the pros and cons.
“It’s not like I’m going anywhere.” I suppress a laugh. “Look. I’ll have Elena draft a temporary live-in addendum.” I’m already reaching for my phone on the tray with my good hand. Texting with one thumb. “So you can stay close to Ben’s room. But in an actual bed.”
“The small room on her floor?” Jess asks.
“Works for me.” I finish the text. Send it to Elena.
My phone buzzes almost immediately. Elena confirming receipt. Probably already drafting the paperwork. Another buzz.
Get well soon, Marco.
Ben yawns. Huge. The kind that makes her whole face scrunch up.
“See?” I gesture weakly toward her. “She needs sleep. Real sleep. Not hospital chairs.”
Jess sighs. But she’s nodding. “Okay. We’ll go tonight. But if you need anything... anything at all... you call.”
“Deal.”
Jag moves from his position by the door. “I’ll arrange transport. Have the townhouse ready.”
He’s already texting. Coordinating with Niamh probably. Making sure everything’s staged for their arrival.
Good man. I should give him a raise.
And just like that, I’m out.
The next morning I wake up and Ben and Jess aren’t here. Instead, a new nurse stands close to my bed. She’s got that calm efficiency that reminds me of the best sous chefs.
“Mr. Fiore.” She sets down a supply kit. “I’m Yanelis Cruz. You can call me Neli. I’ll be handling your home care when you’re discharged. But the hospital asked me to meet you and your family now. Set some routines.”
“Did Gianna hire you?” My COO.
“How’d you guess?” she says.
I nod. Try to sit up. Pain flares.
She helps adjust the bed instead.
“What time is it?” I ask. “Where’s Ben?”
“They should be arriving any time now,” Neli says.
“We’re right here.” Jess appears with Ben in tow. Both looking more rested than yesterday.
Good.
Neli crouches down to Ben’s level. “You must be Benedetta. I hear you’re very good with stickers.”
Ben nods solemnly. Frederick is clutched tight beside her.
“I saw all the stickers you put on your father’s bed.” Neli pulls out a sheet of gold stars. “I need a ‘Chief of Stickers’ on my team. Think you can handle the job?”
Ben’s face lights up. First real smile I’ve seen since the attack.
“I can do it.” Ben takes the stickers reverently. “Frederick can help.”