18. Chapter Eighteen
18
Luca
Clawing my way back to consciousness was like wading through hip deep molasses, surfacing only to be pulled under again. I couldn't feel my body, the weight of my limbs against the pull of gravity or even the vague sense of direction telling me which way was up. Utter numbness, in a way that poignantly reminded me of how it had been in the hospital.
Time was a slippery, insubstantial thing. Some distant part of my subconscious was aware that time was still moving forward as I floated in the ether, deaf and blind to the world, but it didn't bother me. It was nice. Peaceful. Especially compared to the cleaving pain from before. I probably would have stayed there indefinitely if it hadn't been for the scent of vanilla and peonies that slipped like a wraith past my lowered defenses, along with an outside sense of panic and dread that I felt more than heard.
Then the switch was flipped into go mode, and my body powered up into agony.
"Luca?"
It was the only word I could hear, but it was enough to anchor me. I reached for it, clinging to the sound like a drowning man to a life preserver. My eyelids were so heavy, but I forced them open, staring up at the dark ceiling of my living room, the dim light from the kitchen spilling into the room.
I was lying on my side on the floor, something—a towel, maybe—placed under my head, and it felt like there was a two-ton weight pressing down on my chest. Everything ached. Even my teeth hurt. I tried to roll onto my back, but the slightest movement made my head spin and my stomach roil, and I groaned.
"Luca? Stay still."
Something warm and soft touched my face, and I managed to turn my head enough to see Sofia sitting beside me. Her eyes were wide and scared, and she was shaking. I reached for her, trying to tell her that I was okay, but all that came out was a string of slurred syllables that didn't make any sense. She grabbed my hand and squeezed it, holding it against her cheek.
"Hurts," I mumbled.
"I know." Her voice was so small. "You had a seizure, it lasted two minutes, and you've been in and out for about twenty. I pushed the coffee table away so you wouldn't get hurt and got a towel under your head, but I haven't given you any meds yet."
"'kay."
Wearily, I closed my eyes. Of course, Sofia knew exactly what to do. She'd been with me in the hospital when I'd had a few seizures during my recovery period. She'd even sat in on the sessions with my nurse where she'd explained to Sofia what to do in case I had one at home. I thought we'd gotten past it, though.
Apparently not. Christ, of all the timing. I really knew how to end an argument, didn't I?
"Sofia," I mumbled. "I'm sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."
"It's okay." I felt the soft brush of her lips against my cheek, and it grounded me. "I think we should call an ambulance, though."
"Please don't...I'm okay."
I tried to push myself upright, but Sofia stopped me with a gentle, restraining hand. "Shhh. Just rest."
Sofia pulled my head into her lap and carded her fingers through my hair. It was embarrassing as hell, being coddled like this, but it felt so fucking good that I couldn't bring myself to push her away. It had been years since anyone had touched me in a way that wasn't medically or sexually motivated. The gentleness of it made me feel like I was going to break into a thousand pieces if I wasn't careful.
Damn.
I thought that had been it. The end. Lights out. When the pain had hit, in that split second before my body went on its little side trip and left me in the dust, all I could hear was the doctor's voice, bored but still feinting concern, when he told me that my brain was nothing more than a ticking time bomb.
Twenty percent survival rate.
Guess I knew what end of those odds I washed up on.
Dead man walking.
I wanted to get up, to get moving, but my body rebelled at the mere thought of it. My stomach heaved again, and I groaned, rolling onto my side and burying my face in Sofia's leg. "I need...to get up."
Shuffling her hands beneath my armpits, she pushed until I was upright, leaning against her shoulder. "What do you need?"
"Medicine cabinet in the bathroom," I said through clenched teeth. Kind of like shutting the gate after the horse is out, but what the hell. Maybe they'd actually work this time. "The blue bottle."
Sofia eased herself out from behind me, keeping her hand on my arm until I was propped up against the sofa, then disappeared into the bathroom. While she was gone, I took the opportunity to survey the damage.
There was a shattered laptop on the floor, and a smear of blood on the tile next to it. I ran my tongue against the inside of my cheek and realized I'd bitten it when I went down.
Sofia returned with the pill bottle, kneeling on the floor and holding out two capsules to me. "Here."
I took them gratefully and chased them with the water she handed me. Stared at the pieces of Sofia's ruined computer. What a fucking asshole. Out of control, spastic asshole--
"Luca? Look at me."
I met her gaze reluctantly, and she cupped my cheeks in her palms, holding me there.
"It's all right."
"No, it's not," I ground out. "I could have hurt you."
"You didn't. And you won't. I know you, Luca."
"You don't. You think you do. But you have no idea what I'm capable of. What I could do to you if you stay here with me. I'm a violent person, Sofia, and it's not going to stop. It won't get better."
"I'm not going anywhere," she insisted. "Not until I'm certain you're all right."
"I'll never be all right," I said through clenched teeth. "I've been lying to myself, to you, thinking that I could be anything other than what I am. But the truth is that I'm dangerous, and you have no business being around me, or this family."
"You're okay and so am I—"
"You're laptop's not okay."
"You can buy me a new one."
"Sofia..."
She brushed her thumb across my cheek, then bent and pressed her lips against my forehead, like a benediction. "I know you think I'm being stupid. But I'm not. I'm right where I want to be."
My chest tightened and I shut my eyes, trying to focus on the rhythmic stroke of her thumb over my skin, the softness of her lips. I needed this. Needed her. Needed something to distract me from the hopelessness of the situation. "Thank you."
"Come on," she said, letting her hands fall away from my face. "Let's get you to bed."
I opened my eyes again and watched her stand up and hold out her hand for me. My gaze drifted up from her hand to her face, and I frowned. Her lips were turned down at the corners, her eyes were puffy, her cheeks were red, and her nose was running. Like she'd been...crying.
I reached up and caught her wrist, stopping her from helping me up. "Sofia. Have you been crying?"
She blinked, looking away from me. "No. Of course not."
"Bullshit," I growled. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, I'm just...it's been an emotional day." She sighed. "Please, let me help you."
I let her pull me up, leaning against her shoulder as she helped me into the bedroom and onto the bed. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I felt myself getting pulled under again. I held it off, though, the sight of her tear-stained face etched in my mind.
"Sofia, the FBI, what they said...are you all right? Really?"
She looked down at her hands, twisting her fingers together. "Yes."
"They had no right to tell you any of that. Not like that. I'm so sorry."
"Don't apologize. I'm glad I know the truth. It's better than having to wonder about it. I hate secrets."
I reached for her hand and she let me take it. Mine was still trembling, both from the seizure's aftershocks and the weight of my own secret, the one Sofia could never, ever know.
"They won't touch you, Sofia. I swear it."
As long as I was alive...and even after. I would do whatever it took to keep her safe.
Her gaze met mine, and there was something there that I couldn't identify. Something that made me feel warm all over, even as my chest ached. "I believe you," she whispered.
I tugged on her hand. "Come here."
She hesitated for a moment, but then she crawled up onto the bed next to me, resting her head on my chest. I wrapped my arms around her, holding her tightly against me, and pressed my cheek against the top of her head. Her hair was soft against my lips, her body warm and soft against my own.
There are moments in our lives that, when standing at the end and looking back, we wish we could have frozen in time forever, preserved in perfect, crystalline form for eternity. This was one of those moments. My body and Sofia's curled together in mutual comfort and support , shoring each other up while the world fell down around us. There was a strength to that. A rare beauty. Fleeting and fragile, but here, at the end, I'd been granted the wisdom and the foresight to see these moments for the treasures they were.
Once again, time stopped, and as I held Sofia in my arms, in the space between seconds, between breaths, I saw her at twelve. At twenty. I saw her blossom from the na?ve little girl she used to be into the fierce woman before me.
God, how the past two years had changed her. Sofia was quieter now, analytical. I saw a lot of her brother in her, actually, but the compassionate, empathetic Sofia was still there. She was strong and sure where she had been flighty and scattered before. Her innocence had been replaced by something darker, harder, a product of the things she had seen, the people she had lost, but she still retained that stubborn optimism. That fiery hope. She still believed that good would triumph over evil. That there was always another way out.
Well, maybe not for all of us.
I envied her that. I couldn't afford that kind of faith anymore.
Tonight had been a close call. I was going to die, and probably soon. But lying there with the girl of my dreams in my arms, a tiny piece of my heart eased knowing that Sofia was going to be okay. She would survive this life of ours, and that was all that mattered.
***
Two days later I was down in Dante's basement hideaway again, pretending to clean weapons while we speculated on the best way to take Sal Giordano's head.
"There's no way we're getting near him," I said, putting the slide back onto the pistol and locking it into place. "He's locked down tight."
Dante nodded. He was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, staring at nothing. The clock over his shoulder read just after five—shit, I'd have to get going, soon. "He's paranoid, too. And that's before he catches wind of this FBI bullshit. We can't just walk up to his front door, ask for a sit-down, then pop him in the face."
I'd brought Dante up to speed on Sofia's FBI interrogation and the ultimatum Special Agent Sinclair had leveled on her. It still boiled my blood to think of Sofia sitting across a table from those assholes. I knew how they operated—they would use any tactic available to them to get what they wanted. That included playing on her fears, her sympathies, even her fucking guilt. They had threatened to send her brother to prison if she didn't cooperate. If that didn't work, they'd threaten me. Maybe they already had.
And what about Beth’s sister, the one Dante had trouble tracking down? Apparently, she was connected to the Feds, but the trail had gone cold. Could she be behind the investigation?
My fists clenched on the table as I imagined myself laying into Sinclair, taking out my frustrations on that smarmy fucker. It wouldn't be the first time I'd been tempted to break my own rules. It wasn't right that the law treated us like animals but acted like saints themselves. I knew how they operated. How they manipulated people. How they took what they wanted, no matter the cost. And they thought they could use Sofia as a pawn in their game?
Over my dead body. Literally.
I wasn't the going-out-in-a-blaze-of-glory kind of guy, but if that's what it took to ensure Sofia's safety, then so be it.
"What do you think?"
I glanced up at Dante, who was staring at me expectantly. I frowned. "What?"
He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Have you even been listening?"
"No," I said honestly, setting the pistol on the table in front of me. "I wasn't."
"Clearly. I asked what we should do about Giordano. Taking out Sal is going to cause a lot of fallout between the families, and we need to make sure we all land on the right side. Then there’s the job itself—the two of us ain’t going to be able to pull this off alone, but Julian's been running his mouth too much and Dominic never trusted the two of us. Recruiting's hard when you can't say shit without getting your head blown off."
And Sal had become more and more paranoid as the days stretched on, convinced everyone was out to get him, even as his own man persisted in the violence that was drawing all the heat to us. It was only a matter of time before he imploded.
Dante was right, though. We needed more people on our side. "We need to bring someone else in."
"Yeah." Dante rubbed the back of his neck, sighing heavily. "But we can't risk it. Not until we know for sure we can trust them. But I don't trust anybody right now. Do you?"
"Shit." I scrubbed a hand over my face. "Maybe we're looking at this the wrong way. Maybe we should just—"
Time hiccupped again. Once moment, Dante was leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, staring at me with his eyebrows raised expectantly. The next moment, he was across the room, crouched in front of me and snapping his fingers in my face.
"Earth to Luca. Luca, snap out of it."
I blinked. Took a breath. Wondered what the fuck was happening.
"Hey, buddy." Dante snapped his fingers again. "You back with me?"
"Huh?"
"You spaced out there. For a while."
I frowned and squinted at the clock. It was ten after six.
"You stopped talking mid-sentence and just sat there like a planker, staring at the wall." Dante scrubbed his palms on his thighs, his brows knitting together. "What the hell's going on with you?"
Dante was spooked, and although I was surprisingly touched by the concern, especially coming from him, I knew there was no way I was going to be able to lie to him.
"I'm not doing good," I said. It felt strange to say it out loud, even though I'd been thinking it for months. It was almost a relief to finally tell someone, even if it was Dante Moretti.
He let out a snort. "No fucking shit."
"It's worse than you think," I said, then sighed, rubbing my palms against my eyes. "Much worse."
Dante was quiet for a moment, and when I lowered my hands, his face was somber, all traces of his usual sarcasm gone.
"How much worse?"
I took a deep breath, steeling myself to admit the truth. "Worse enough that...I'm probably not going to be around much longer."
I braced myself for the questions, but Dante just stood there, staring at me. Then his knees bent, and he sank down to the bench across from me. "Shit."
"That pretty much covers it."
Dante gestured towards my chest, my head. "So this...what was that I just saw."
"Probably an absence seizure. They've been happening more regularly." At least this time, though I wasn't laid out on the floor doing the two-step.
"Medication? Surgery?"
Leave it to Dante to cut right through the bullshit. That was one reason I loved him. "My brain is fucked. There's a damaged part that's close to rupturing. Inoperable."
"Did they give you a timeline?"
"Could be six months from now, could be tomorrow. Doc said the survival rate was less than twenty percent."
"Fuck."
"Yeah."
We sat there in silence, but then again, what the hell do you say when your buddy tells you he's dying? Dante and I were tight, but we weren't exactly the hug-and-cry-it-out types. But of course, Dante knew that. The way he looked at me said it all. I was breaking his heart, but at the end of the day, everything all washed out the same.
Life sucked, and then you died.
"Sofia doesn't know?" he asked quietly.
I shook my head.
"You planning on telling her?"
I shook my head again. "If I'm lucky, I won't have to. I'll just be...gone."
"Gone." Dante snorted and shook his head, staring at his shoes. "That's fucking dark, man."
I shrugged. "It is what it is. There's no use crying about it."
"You don't seem worried."
"I am. I just try not to think about it." I smiled thinly, trying to lighten the mood. "That's where Sofia comes in handy."
"A distraction. Seems fair." Dante stood, crossing his arms and circling around me. Then he punched me in the shoulder. Hard.
"Oof—what the hell was that for?"
"You're dying, not dead, asshole. I'd knock you upside the head if I didn't think it would put you in a pine box. And I'll continue to try to knock some sense into when I think you're doing a damn fool thing. Which you are, by the way."
I angrily rubbed at my shoulder. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Sofia. It's a dick move, man. Leaving her with this kind of secret. She'll be wrecked when she finds out. It's not right to keep her in the dark about this. She deserves to know."
"It's better this way." Standing, I stalked over to the bench and picked up a gun, setting up to oil it even though it was spotless. "She's just going to try to save me again, but it won't do any good this time. I'm way past saving."
"You're an idiot. This is going to crush her."
"So what do you suggest, then? Huh?"
"I suggest you stop being such a fucking coward."
"Coward? I'm trying to protect her, you jackass."
Dante took the gun from my hands and slammed it on the table, getting in my face. "She loves you. Anyone can see it. If you want to crawl off into a hole and die, then do it, but don't drag her with you. Don't play with her emotions just to die on her without saying a word. That's bullshit, and you know it."
"I'm not playing with her. I love her too much to—"
"Yeah, yeah. You're a hero, we all know it. That's what you do, right? You saved Emilia's life and her Irishman, and now you're going to go out like some sort of martyr, all noble and shit, except this time, you're not saving anyone. Just fucking hurting her."
"That's enough," I growled, shoving him away from me. "I don't need a lecture."
"No, you need a kick in the ass. And I'm sorry, buddy, but you're not going to get that from me. Not this time."
He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.
"Dante."
He stopped, but didn't turn around.
"Don't tell her. Please."
His shoulders rose and fell as he took a deep breath. Then, without turning around, he said, "I won't tell her. But you should."
I nodded, although he couldn't see it. "I will."
And I would. Eventually.