Chapter 24
The memory of the face behind the wheel is gone when I wake up, as if it never existed.
My body feels like it’s renegotiating the terms of its will to live.
My throbbing skull, my broken bones, my weary spirit—it’s anyone’s guess which one will give up first. It takes several flutters of my eyelids before my consciousness becomes fully aware.
I’m drowning in aggressively white light and beeping machines that I immediately know belong to a hospital.
If this had been heaven, I was asking for a refund.
The room holds the intimate scent of unwashed hair and dry lips, along with the metallic pungency associated with open wounds. The faint echo of bodily fluids never quite leaves no matter how often the sheets are washed.
My brain feels encased in bubble wrap. I try to move my head. Bad idea. A worse pain detonates behind my eyes like a tiny atomic bomb.
“Hey,” a voice to my left says, hoarse and relieved. “There she is.”
My eyes peel open with a crunch of dry eye boogers.
Luca is slumped in a plastic chair wearing a wrinkled version of yesterday’s shirt—have I been here since yesterday?
or a week? or, God forbid, longer?—and in this moment I love my brother more than ever before.
My Patron Saint of Bad Decisions clearly hasn’t left my side.
“What…” my throat scratches out the words, “happened?”
Luca sits up, brushing his disheveled hair off his forehead. “You don’t remember?”
My eyelids drift closed and I try to dig backward through the fog.
But it’s like someone shook my memories in a snow globe and all the pieces are still floating.
Luca holds out a cup of water with a straw angled toward my lips.
I sip at first, then gulp. The iciness of it isn’t doing my headache any favors.
“I remember,” I swallow, “walking. In town. And… my purse.”
A car. A face. An accident—but it doesn’t feel like it was an accident. Then the images are gone before I can grab hold of them.
“It’s okay.” Luca squeezes my hand. He does it gently, which is rare for him. He’s more of a pat on the back that cracks your spine kind of guy. “You were in a hit-and-run.”
I blink at him. “I was hit?”
“And run,” he confirms. “By a car.”
“Thanks,” I mutter. “In case I thought it was a bicycle.”
He huffs a tired laugh. “You were out for almost twelve hours. I was starting to think you might wake up and start swearing in Italian again.”
“I don’t speak Italian.”
“You do when you have a concussion.” He leans back, stretching. “Mamma’s at your place with Zoomie. The dog wouldn’t stop howling at the front door, so she’s with him until you get home.”
Zoomie probably thinks I died. Then again, Zoomie also thinks the mailman is a demon who steals souls, so maybe he’s not the best judge.
I rub my forehead, careful of the IV taped to my arm. “Did you see who hit me?”
“No. By the time the screaming started and I ran out, the car was gone.”
“Did anyone else see it?”
“Only that it was a black sedan,” he says. “And fast. That’s it. The police are going to come take a statement from you at some point and hopefully find footage of the exact make and model.”
I do remember a black sedan had been parked in front of my house, but I feel like there’s more on the tip of my memory. I reach for the visual and it’s like trying to grab smoke. My traitorous brain slides away from it and it’s poof—gone.
“The doctor is concerned about your stress levels, sis. He wants to discharge you, but only if you can promise to eliminate stress.” Luca watches me carefully. “You’re not exactly coping well since Ivory’s disappearance.”
“Oh really?” I arch an eyebrow. “And what gave that away? The lack of appetite? Or the insomnia?”
“Shari—”
“You’re right,” I cut in. “I’m a wellness disaster.”
“I just want you to deal with this in a healthier way.”
I glance at his knuckles, scabbed and bruised. “Healthier way?” I echo. “Uh-huh. Luca, you look like the dictionary definition of unhealthy.”
He follows my gaze and pulls his hand back. “This? This was out of necessity.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning if someone hurts you—or tries to bash you online—I bash them. That’s how it works when you’re a brother.”
“You think getting in fights with someone who posted a bad review about my business is necessary?”
“Absolutely,” he snaps. “It was an indirect threat, Shari. Ever since Ramsey—”
“Don’t.” The word is stern. That name is a razor blade dragged across a scar I don’t want to tear open anymore.
“After what Ramsey did to you,” Luca continues anyway, because stubbornness is his love language, “I told myself I’d never let someone target you again. I promised.”
“And look how well that turned out.” I’m referring to the bloody necklace, to Ivory missing, and the car that definitely did not run me over by accident.
I stare at my fierce, loyal, infuriating brother. The one who once threw himself in front of a boy twice his size because the kid wouldn’t stop calling me a baby. The one who believes it’s his job to fix me, even when fixing me would probably require a lobotomy.
“I love you, Luca, but I’m not your responsibility.”
“Yes you are,” he fires back. “You’re my sister. And I’m not losing you. We’ve already lost Dad and Stew…” He lets my husband’s name linger and drops his gaze. “I’m done losing family, Shari.”
We all saw my dad’s end coming. After every type of Western medical treatment, we even tried a list of hopeful Eastern medicines, but nothing could fix advanced stage brain cancer.
None of us were prepared to lose Stewart, though.
On top of that, my own life was barely clinging to a thread after my sentencing.
“Yeah, I’m done losing too.”
The painkillers make me sleepy, and I feel myself slipping away. Another flash pops behind my eyelids—
A windshield, and that familiar face behind it. It’s someone I know.
Behind the memory, my heartrate monitor beeps urgently, and Luca calls for a nurse. Another presence enters my room, but I’m stuck in the dream forcing the face behind the windshield to materialize.
“I know—” I gasp. “I think I know who—”
As quickly as it came, the memory once again evaporates, leaving a void. I slam back into the present to a nurse checking my vitals.
“I can’t remember,” I whisper. “I know I saw the driver. But I can’t—” My voice breaks. “Luca, I can’t remember.”
He cups my cheek and kisses my forehead. I really like this version of him. “Then don’t try right now. Let your brain heal.”
I nod, because fighting my brother takes more energy than I currently possess.
But inside me, something dark uncoils. Someone wants me dead, someone close to me.
And someone who knew where I’d be. Whether it’s about Ivory’s disappearance, or somehow connected to Ramsey Shenk, or it’s something I have yet to understand… whoever is after me is not finished.
The worst part is I can’t trust anyone.