39. Chapter 39 - Cole
I open my eyes to find myself in a bright room with white walls. I blink repeatedly, trying to make sense of where I am. The last thing I remember is being in that place with Sokolov—what looked like a basement. I can still smell the death in that room, even though I’m clearly not there anymore. Can still feel the way he whipped me, the way I woke up with water coming out of my mouth and nose as they pumped my chest. I should’ve known they wouldn’t have mercy on me and let me drown myself.
I turn my head to look around the room, just to notice Emiliano sitting at the side of the bed, his cheek resting on the firm mattress. There are purple bags under his eyes, and one of his hands is curled up in my blankets. I try to move and wince, the pain in my chest debilitating.
Sokolov shot me.
He fucking shot me.
I shouldn’t even be surprised; he did tell me he was going to kill me, but I didn’t think he’d have enough time to pull the trigger once Emiliano got to him. All I remember is the shot ringing out and the burning pain in my chest. Then everything went dark and fuzzy around the edges. I was so cold. So, so cold. But Emiliano was steadfast in his faith. He had faith in me. That I would pull through. I still remember the way he encouraged me in the car. I don’t remember much else, but I’ll always remember that.
I try to speak but wheeze instead. Fuck, my throat is so dry, and it hurts like a bitch. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to swallow, but failing to do so. It takes me another minute to compose myself, to gather enough strength to try again.
“Em,” I whisper, then try to clear my throat. He stirs, and I thread my fingers through his hair softly. He seems to like that, nuzzling closer to me, until he realizes what’s going on and wakes with a start. My hand falls to the side as he sits straight up and looks at me with parted lips. “Water, please.”
“ Cole .”
I stare expectantly, and he snaps out of it, helping me with the cup. Fuck, I feel useless. I can’t remember the last time I needed someone to help me this way. Maybe never.
Emiliano places the cup back on the side table after a few sips, and I try to sit up, which is a horrible idea. The wounds on my back pull tighter, and my chest is on fire. He seems to get the idea, though, and raises me to a sitting position with the button on the side. I sigh in relief as I finally get into the position I want to be in, but wince in pain when I try to move.
There’s suddenly a knock at the door, and a nurse comes in with a bright smile. She looks way too happy to be here, something I’m definitely not, but I don’t want to be grumpy with her, so I swallow down my comment and look over at Em. He’s frowning as he looks at me, and I frown right back. Why is he so upset? Did something else happen? I grab his hand and hold it just as the nurse comes to the other side of the bed and checks the bags hanging from the hook.
Nurse Molly asks me if I’m in pain, which I obviously say yes to, and she scans the pain medication vial and asks for my name and date of birth. She goes through the motions rather quickly, and when she’s finally done, she tells me to press the call light button if I need her. We’re left alone a moment later, the silence suffocating, and I look at Emiliano’s face. What I see almost breaks me. His face is red, his eyes watery as he looks at me. But there’s so much pain in his eyes that I know it’s not just about me being here. No, this is about Matteo.
I nod slowly, squeezing his hand once, and say, “I’m sorry.”
“You hurt me,” he says without hesitation. “You really fucking hurt me.”
My eyes sting as I look at him, but I don’t make excuses for myself. “I’m so sorry, Em. I made a mistake?—”
“You love him, Cole.” He shakes his head. “How is that a mistake?”
I shake my head too now. “What I feel for him will never be what I feel for you. I’m in love with you. I’ll always choose you .”
“But—”
“No,” I plead, begging him to understand. “Please don’t do this. Don’t.”
“I have to.” His voice cracks. “You deserve the chance to be with him.”
“I don’t fucking want to be with him!” I yell, getting frustrated. “Can’t you see it’s always been you? It will always be you! I want to marry you. Please, don’t leave me.”
“Cole—”
“No. Please,” I beg again. “Please, don’t do this. If you leave me now, I won’t survive it.”
He’s quiet, but his eyes don’t stray from my face.
“If you leave me, it will all be for nothing.” At this, a tear slips down his cheek. He wipes it angrily, as if it’s offended him. “I won’t be with him either way.”
“Why not?” Emiliano asks, his frown deepening.
“I want to be with you,” I reiterate. “I choose you . Always.”
Emiliano makes a tortured sound at the back of his throat and drops his forehead to the mattress, his shoulders shaking. I thread my fingers through his hair and stroke it gently, hoping he can sense how much I love him from one act alone.
“It’s you,” I tell him again. “It will always only ever be you.”
“Are you sure?” he asks me.
“Positive.” I smile, and he must hear it in my voice because he lifts his head and looks at me. He looks defeated, and I fucking hate it. “Everything is going to be okay.”
“Is the wedding still on?” he asks with a soft voice, and I grin.
“Yes, husband.” And I can’t fucking wait. “A spring wedding.”
At this, he does smile. Finally . His tired eyes crinkle in the corners and my stomach flips as if I’m on a rollercoaster.
God, I really love him more than anything.
* * *
It’s been a few days since we came home, and Emiliano has been watching my every move. I’m still weak and bed bound, but at least I’m in my own bed. While the hospital was accommodating, I was eager to get out of there. The only upside to being there was the pain medication, but our doc has me on the good shit, anyway. I’m still in a lot of pain, but it’s dull now. One little detail no one told me about was that my back has over one hundred stitches on it. At least they’re dissolvable. I’m still angry that Sokolov managed to mark me for the rest of my life, that he had the power to do so in the first place, but at least Emiliano doesn’t seem repulsed by it. Instead, he’s been fawning over me as if I can’t do anything on my own. And maybe I really can’t—but I wouldn’t know since I haven’t tried. He’ll have to let me soon enough.
Another little detail I’m not particularly happy about is that I have to wait six weeks for sex, and knowing Emiliano, he’ll force me to wait the full six weeks. He won’t put me in danger, even if I want it so fucking bad. I’ve been so damn horny, and it doesn’t help that he’s looking absolutely edible. A little rugged with the beginnings of a beard, and I fucking love it. He looks like a fucking snack, and I definitely want to devour him. But apparently I won’t be doing that.
I also heard that the reason for my rescue was thanks to Natasha, and here I wanted to kill her. I kind of still do. She’s a shit mom, and Emiliano has been inside of her, which means I hate her on principle alone. But since she technically saved my life, I guess I’ll have to be nice. For Matteo’s sake. Not that he’s around. I haven’t seen him at all since the basement. It’s probably delusional of me to think so, but I thought that after my near death experience, he’d come around to speak to me. And I don’t know? Apologize for how we left things? I don’t fucking know anymore. It hurts that he hasn’t come to see me. Of all the people I wanted by my side during my recovery, he sits high on the list. Oh, who am I kidding? He sits at number two.
That’s probably the only reason I’ve been texting him like crazy. He hasn’t replied to any of my one hundred text messages, and it stings. I know the way things ended between us wasn’t ideal, but I thought being on death’s door would’ve brought him back to me. I just need him back in my life—as a friend. I have to tell him how I feel, and hope that he can forgive me and move on—by my side. I know that’s probably far-fetched. It doesn’t stop me from hoping, though. And hope is a dangerous thing.
Emiliano comes into the room with a frown on his face, and my eyebrows rise all the way to my hairline. I haven’t seen him this upset since we were at the hospital, and I can’t help but wonder?—
“What’s wrong?” I ask him, and he sighs, coming to sit next to me on the bed. I’m sitting up, which is hurting my back, and he looks at me with narrowed eyes.
“You should be lying down.” Em dodges my question, and it doesn’t go unnoticed.
I comply, if only to get information out of him and lie down. “Happy?” I grin.
“Much happier,” he says dryly. “Someone’s here to see you.”
My heart begins to pound in my chest as I hear Matteo’s name come from his lips, but I can barely hear anything else he’s saying. My nostrils flare as I take in a deep breath, and my heart rate goes down slightly.
“I trust you, Cole,” Emiliano says softly, a sad look in his eyes. “Don’t make me regret it.”
I shake my head quickly. “I won’t.”
He nods, then exits the room quickly, leaving the door open. I assume Matty is going to come in here now, and my heart begins to beat wildly in my chest all over again.
A few moments later, Matteo comes into the room, closing the door behind himself. My stomach flips when he walks closer to me, but he still stays a couple of feet away. There’s a lump in my throat that I can’t swallow past, and all I know is that I want this distance between us obliterated.
“Come here, Matty.”
His eyes widen at the nickname, and he shakes his head. “I can’t.” But even as his voice breaks, he takes another step toward me, and then another, until I can touch him if I reach out.
“On the bed, please,” I say softly, trying to convince him, and he looks indecisive for all of a few seconds before he toes off his shoes and lies down next to me. I flip over and get closer, his head on Em’s pillow as he turns his body to face me. He reaches out, about to touch my face, but then his hand drops to his side. I shake my head. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t treat me differently,” I whisper. “Don’t stop what you were going to do.”
Matteo looks conflicted, but then he reaches out to brush some hair away from my forehead, and my eyes flutter closed at the contact. “You can’t do that, Cole. Not anymore,” he says.
“Do what?” I frown, confused.
“Act like you love when I touch you.”
I nod, but still, I reach out and brush my knuckles over his cheek. “Why didn’t you answer me?”
“I needed time.” He shrugs. “I can’t—” His voice breaks. “I can’t just come every time you call. You chose him.”
“That doesn’t mean I don’t want you in my life, Matty.” My chest tightens as he searches my eyes, and he nods slowly. “I need you in my life.”
“I don’t know if I can be your friend, Cole.” Matteo sighs. “I just—love you so much.”
“I know.” My voice cracks, too. “And I’m so fucking sorry.”
“I know you are.”
Matteo gets closer until we’re sharing breath, then tilts his head up and kisses my forehead. I close my eyes at the contact.
“I don’t want you out of my life,” I tell him, and he stiffens. “Please. Just—please don’t go.”
“I don’t know what to do, Cole,” he replies with a frown. “I don’t know how to stop feeling this way. I don’t think I can watch you with my dad.”
“I know.” I nod quickly. “I’m an asshole for asking this of you. But it doesn’t take away from the fact that I mean every word. I want you in my life, and I’m not giving up. I’m not giving you up.”
Matteo nods too now. “Baby steps.”
“I can agree to that,” I say quickly, feeling hope bloom inside of me for the first time in so long. “Anything you want.”
“I won’t be coming to the wedding.”
I sigh. “Alright.”
“It can’t be the way it used to be.”
“Why the fuck not?” I snap, and he has the audacity to chuckle.
“I was too codependent on you, Cole.”
“Okay.” I can’t help but agree, if only to keep him in my life. I’d do anything at this point. “I can agree to your terms.”
“Great.”
Matteo smiles at me, and his eyes light up in a way they haven’t in a long time. I can’t deny he looks like shit. Hair longer than usual, purple bags under his eyes, a permanent frown on his face, but he’s beautiful. Inside and out. I’ve missed him so fucking much. So I just stare at him, hoping like hell we can be the friends we’ve always been, even if he said we won’t be.
I’m holding onto hope, regardless.