Chapter 27 #13
Gio is already out of his chair. "Do you want water? Milk? Juice? Fresh-squeezed? Cold? Warm? Sparkling? Still? Wine? I've got beer. Tequila. Champagne, I think. I'll check."
I blink at him, mouth half-open, chewing slowly. He looks so serious about it too.
I laugh. My hand goes to my face. "For the love of God, Gio," I say through a grin. "Just bring me some water." He pauses, stares at me for a second, then nods three times. "Water. Got it. Only the finest."
We're both laughing. He sets the glass of water in front of me with a flourish like he's a five-star waiter. I shake my head, still giggling, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
He's about to sit again, but the loud knock on the door slices through the moment. We freeze. I blink, eyes snapping toward the front of the house.
"What was that?" I ask, my voice already quieter. Another knock. Louder this time. My stomach drops.
I stand too fast. "Gio—" I breathe, but I don't even know what I'm asking. He's already up, his entire body alert.
"Hey. Look at me." He puts a hand on my arm. "Go upstairs." My pulse is in my throat. I can't hear anything but my own heart pounding in my ears. "Why, Gio? What's happening?"
Another bang. "Police. Open the door."
My eyes snap open. I look at Gio.
My mouth opens, but no sound comes out. His grip on my arm tightens. "Listen to me," he says. "It's fine. I've got it." I shake my head. I'm already spiraling. My hands are shaking. He steps closer. "Go upstairs. To my room. Don't come out."
"But—"
"Rava." His voice snaps, sounding like he's scared. "Please. Just go."
My body doesn't feel like mine anymore. It moves on instinct. I turn toward the stairs. He stays by the kitchen, staring at the front door. I look back at him once. He nods. Just once.
I go up, into his room. I don't shut the door all the way. I leave it just cracked. Just enough to hear. My back is pressed against the wall. I hear some voices. Footsteps.
"Mr. Fontana, there has been a formal complaint claiming that prohibited items are being stored in this residence. Under this authorization, we are required to search the house."
No. No. Shit.
My knees immediately go weak. My fingers dig into the wall behind me. I feel like I'm gonna throw up. They're going to search the house. Every room. Every drawer.
They think Gio has drugs. Or weapons. Or I don't even know. I don't even fucking know. But I know what they do.
They put people in handcuffs. They drag them out. They lock them up. I bite down on my tongue. Trying not to cry.
He's down there. Alone. What's he thinking right now? Is he scared? Is he pretending not to be? Is he trying to look calm for them while he's just as terrified as I am? I squeeze my eyes shut.
God, please, don't let them take him. I slide down the wall, my back still pressed to it, hands trembling in my lap. I can hear them moving things now. Opening cupboards. Doors.
If they find something, anything, he's gone. And then it hits me.
The box. The fucking box. My head snaps up. Fuck. FUCK. That's where everything is. Whatever he couldn't risk leaving out in the open, whatever he couldn't burn or lose, it's in there. And if they find it? He's done.
And I'm just sitting here. No. No, get up. Get the fuck up.
I stumble to my feet, and rush to the closet. I have to find it. I have to move. I have to save him.
Please, Gio.
Please tell me you didn't hide it too well.
Please tell me I can still get to it first.
I try not to touch anything I don't have to. I open drawers carefully. If they come in and see a mess, they'll know someone's been up here. And then they'll look for me. And then they'll find the fucking box.
I swallow hard. I want to cry. God, I want to fucking cry. But I can't. I'm too scared.
Focus. I crouch low and start moving things. Behind shirts. Under blankets. I'm moving quick but trying to keep it neat, like I was never here.
You fucking idiot. You knew. You knew this might happen. You didn't say it, but you fucking knew. And you trusted me with it. Just in case.
God. You're crazy.
You're brilliant.
"We'll check upstairs next." My breath stops. I start shaking again. Full-body tremble. My fingers go faster. I'm moving like a maniac now, but still trying to make it look untouched. My vision blurs for a second. My hands go numb.
Don't faint. Don't you fucking faint.
"Come on," I whisper soundlessly, "come on, come on, come on—" Then I knock into something. A picture frame.
It tips. Cracks. A small sharp edge slices across my palm.
You goddamn stupid fuck—
I freeze. Suck in air. I don't make a sound. I don't have the fucking luxury. I just clamp my hand shut and swear a thousand times inside my head.
Fucking hell. Blood drips. I wipe it. Keep searching.
Oh.
Metal. The box. I grab it. Both arms. Tight.
Now I hear footsteps. Stairs.
Oh God. I don't even think. I spin and run to the balcony door. "Come on, fucking open." I slip outside.
Close the door behind me. I'm breathing like I ran for miles. The box is still in my arms.
I'm bleeding. I'm scared out of my fucking mind. But I got it. I'm outside. I don't know what I'm doing. I'm shaking so bad I can't feel my legs. The box is heavy. My hand is bleeding.
Shit. Shit. Where do I go? Where the fuck do I go?
They're coming. They're inside. They're going to check here. They're gonna fucking find him, they're gonna find me.
I spin around, eyes darting everywhere. There's nowhere. There's nothing.
…There. Corner. All the rugs. Rolled up like fucking towers. I rush over. Practically fall. Stumble. My foot slips. My knee hits concrete.
I bite my lip to stop from crying out. Get in. Get the fuck in. Now. I shove one rug. Doesn't move. Shove again.
"Move, fuck, MOVE—" I wedge myself behind them. Box in my lap. Arms around it. Pressed to my chest.
I pull one rug toward me, grab a chunk of it and yank it over my head, over my shoulders. I bury myself in it. Squeeze my knees up. I try to stop breathing so loud.
My hand's burning. It's wet. Blood's still coming out. "Shit, shit, shit," I whisper. I can't cry.
If I cry I'll choke.
If I choke I'll get caught.
If I get caught, he's done. He's going to jail because of me. Because I was too fucking slow. Please don't come out here. Please don't see me. Please don't open that fucking door.
Please.
I press my forehead to my knees. The box is cold against my stomach. I'm going to pass out. Don't pass out. Stay still. Shut the fuck up. Please.
Gio I'm sorry. I'm trying. I swear to god I'm trying.
Footsteps. Boots. Someone's out here. Someone's fucking out here. The balcony door creaks open.
"Clear so far." A woman's voice. Too close to me and the box. My heart almost explodes out of my chest. I clamp a hand over my mouth. I'm shaking so hard the rugs around me are probably moving. I try to stop it. I press my knees together. Dig my elbow into my stomach. Anything. She steps closer.
She's right fucking there. And I'm sitting here. Holding a box that could end Gio's life. That will end his life. If she sees me. If she finds me. That's it. It's over.
I can't breathe. I literally can't breathe. There's too much air and none at all. She shifts something. I don't see what. Just hear it.
Metal.
Something falls. Rolls. It hits me. Right in the shoulder.
God. I almost scream. Almost. I press my hand harder over my mouth and bite my own palm.
Don't scream. Don't make a fucking sound.
Don't move. Don't breathe. Tears rush to my eyes instantly. From pain. From fear. From everything.
It hurts. God, it hurts. And not just the shoulder. My chest. My throat. I want to scream. I want to vanish.
Please leave. Please don't see me. Please.
I hear her take a breath. She hesitates. I squeeze my eyes shut. My fingers are digging into my lips so hard I think I might bleed again. She's still. For one long second. I’m waiting.
She turns. Steps back inside.
I don't move. Everything hurts.
"Clear."
Her voice slices through the air. Then I hear them again. From inside. Closer to the door.
"Sorry for the trouble. Got a tip…had to check. Protocol." Then I hear. Gio.
"Don't look at me like that," he says. "You know I've been clean. I'm a changed man, officer. Ask my mother."
He laughs. They laugh.
God, Gio. You're insane.
I'm still curled up. My shoulder is on fire. My hand is still wet. Everything inside me is buzzing. I don't breathe. Not until I hear the door close.
Car doors. Engine. And then silence. I wait.
Five seconds. Ten.
Still nothing. I shove the rug off me. It rolls forward and flops to the ground with a heavy thud. I stay still. Knees pulled in.
Arms wrapped around that fucking box like it's the only thing that matters in the world.
And it is right now. Because it's what I did. It's what I saved. Gio won’t go to jail today. I kept him here. With me.
But I still feel sick. And definitely not okay. I stare ahead. Unmoving. Like my body hasn't realized I'm safe yet.
"Rava?" His voice. "Rava?!" he calls again, louder this time. I want to answer. I can't. I'm shaking. My throat closes. I can't get air in. Fuck—
"Rava!"
The other rug lifts. I flinch. His face. His eyes. He looks like he's seen a ghost. "Rava," he breathes.
He drops to his knees beside me. "Hey, hey, hey, look at me. Baby, it's me. It's Gio. I got you. You're okay now."
He touches my face, cupping my cheek. His eyes are teary. Furious and terrified all at once. "They're gone, alright? The cops are gone. No one's gonna touch you. I swear to God, breathe. Just breathe, baby." His arms wrap around me.
My body collapses into him like I was waiting for it. I gasp. Then I sob. I cry so hard my whole body shakes. I'm choking. I can't stop it. It won't stop. He pulls me into his chest. One hand on my back. The other cradling the back of my head.
"I'm here, baby. You're safe. They're gone. I promise. I've got you."
My fingers grip his shirt.