32. Tino
Holy fuck,I feel like shit. My head is banging, and I think I might puke at any moment.
I’m not sure what happened—just that I took a few pills and had a drink, like I do most evenings—only to come around to find half the fucking university in my room. One thing that draws my attention more than anything, though, is Mackenzie crying.
I hate seeing her cry.
I want to reassure her, to tell her I’m all right, and that I didn’t mean to upset her, but I can’t get my mouth to work. My legs don’t seem to be working too well either.
“I’m going to need to admit him,” a man I don’t recognize says. “He should be okay, but I don’t want to take any chances.”
I must black out again, because the next time I wake, I’m lying on a gurney, and I guess I’m in the back of an ambulance. The engine hums around me, and my body vibrates slightly from the movement. I look for Mackenzie, but she isn’t here, and my stomach dips in disappointment. Dom is, though, sitting opposite another stranger, who I guess is a paramedic. They both look worried, but I don’t have the energy to tell them I’m okay.
My eyelids are too heavy, and they close again. All I want to do is sleep.
I’ve got no idea how much time has passed when I open my eyes again, but I’m in a white hospital room, and sunlight streams through the slatted blind on the window. The air has a lingering odor of cleaning chemicals, and the sheets are white and starched. I’ve still got a headache and a vague notion that I might throw up if I move too fast, but otherwise, I feel normal. I wriggle my fingers and toes, making sure they work as they should.
“He’s awake.”
It’s Mackenzie’s voice, and a moment later, my view of the ceiling is blocked out by the beautiful image of her face. She’s pale and her brow is furrowed, but a tentative smile touches the corners of her lips.
I reach out and grasp her hand. Fuck, am I glad to see her.
The bed is crowded by Dom and Kirill. Neither of them looks as happy as Mackenzie. I understand. I gave them a scare. I gave myself one, too. I’d never meant for things to get that fucking intense. I’d just wanted the pain—emotional and physical—to go away.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” Dom growls. “You took an overdose.”
“I didn’t mean to.” My voice is croaky.
“What did you think was going to happen if you mixed a shit-ton of booze with Oxy?”
“I don’t know. I just wanted everything to stop. The arguments.” I wave my hand between us. “It was the final straw on top of the pain and the thought of losing what we have.”
Kirill comments, “That sounds a lot like an overdose to me.”
“Give him a break,” Mack says. She turns her attention back to me. “You want some water?”
I run my tongue over my dry lips and nod. “Yeah, thanks.”
She pours water from a jug into a paper cup and holds it to my lips for me to drink. Then she helps me sit up using a button on the side of the bed which raises the head.
“This is my fault,” she says softly as she watches me.
“No.” Kirill shakes his head. “It is mine. I fucked up. Got carried away.” His cheeks show a faint wash of heat. “My father seemed so proud, and I thought I could do this and we’d still stay together, somehow. I understand now that could never be.”
“Genius level realization unlocked there, asshole,” Dom grouses.
It makes me smile, though, because there’s a level of brotherly affection hidden away somewhere in that insult.
“I’ll tell my father I won’t marry Mackenzie,” Kirill announces. “He may kill me for it, but I’ll take that over risking losing the three of you.”
Mackenzie’s eyes go wide. “He won’t actually kill you, will he?”
Kirill gives a brave smile. “Let’s hope not.”
Dom still hasn’t given up hassling me. “Why didn’t you tell us you were in so much pain with your leg? You should be having physical therapy, not dealing with it on your own.”
I grit my teeth. “It’s not as easy as that. You know how people treat you if they sense you have a weakness.”
Mackenzie speaks up. “Like me, you mean? Do you consider me as having a weakness?”
I frown in her direction. “No, of course not. You’re incredible, the way you deal with everything. You’re far stronger than I’ve ever been.”
She lifts her chin. “No, you’re wrong. I’ve just been given the tools to help me deal with my condition. My parents, despite all their faults, did that for me. You’ve been struggling alone, Tino. You shouldn’t have done that. If you’d leaned on us, we’d have been there for you. We’d have helped you. Supported you.”
I glance down. “I have a problem, with Oxy, I mean. I don’t know if I can just stop.”
She takes my hand. “I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but we’re here for you. We all are.” She looks around at the others, who nod.
A lump chokes my throat. “Thanks, guys.”
Where would I be without them? Dead, probably.
Movement comes at the doorway, and Nataniele enters. My stomach twists. I don’t want him here. I can’t imagine he’s got any kind of good news for me. What if he tells me I’m expelled and sends me back to Argentina? I think that really will be the end of me.
“Valentino,” he says, “you’re looking better.”
I have a vague recollection of him being in my room. “Thank you for your help.”
“Of course.”
“I should inform your father about what’s happened.”
My stomach lurches, and a rush of heat floods through me. I really might be sick. “Please, sir, don’t. I beg you. He might decide I can’t stay here.”
“Perhaps it would be for the best for you to return home.”
Three voices sound in unison, “No!”
I glance around at Mack and Dom and Kirill. They’re all fighting for me.
I duck my head. “I’d like for you to allow me to stay.”
He exhales a long breath through his nose. “There will need to be some provision put in place. You’ll need to get help. We will oversee it at the college, but you must commit. I want regular drug tests. Otherwise, no deal.”
“I understand. I’ll do whatever is necessary.”
Mackenzie takes my hand again and gives my fingers a squeeze. We lock eyes, and she smiles reassuringly. My heart clenches. I will do anything for her, even get myself off a seriously addictive drug, if I have to. I’d rather be in agony every day with no medication than have to go through a single day without her.