Chapter 52 A Fistful of Chances
A Fistful of Chances
I can’t breathe.
My hip hurts from hitting the ground and my hands sting from trying to keep hold of my crutches.
They’re on the ground next to me as I clutch my head, constriction around my chest as the panic attack grips me.
My vision blurs, a migraine drowns out the voices around me.
Everything trembles, making my muscles hurt as darkness forms at the edge of my vision.
I feel sick, scooting back in an attempt of hiding further.
My back touches a hard surface and I cringe away as a sob works its way up my throat.
Thoughts scramble as it feels like I’m splintering. Why is this happening, why—?
We’d gotten back from the estate a week ago, and I’ve barely slept.
A nightmare last night. I stayed up watching movies, until Leo woke up to make breakfast. I couldn’t remember them.
Just a constant crawling, something far buried in my mind underneath numbness.
We came to the hotel. Leo had meetings. I was helping Grant. Normal day. Until…
A door had slammed. Guests were yelling, upset, being thrown out of the hotel. Blood. Smashed mirror. Cigarette smoke. And then the cologne. That scent thrusting me back to the smell of wet concrete and rust.
My stomach churns, folding more into myself as I remember his laugh. The pictures. Gabriel tearing at my pants. Snap of chains. Leo’s screams.
“Gabriel, fucking stop!” No, no, no…not Leo…not—
Someone touches me, and I hit him. There’s noise as I rock in place, shaking my head as the torrent of memories flood me.
“Want to play rough? Fine!”
“…fuck your dead body...”
“Open your eyes.”
“Autumn. You’re not there. Breathe.” A deep voice tries to comfort me. Chesty? Rudy? More voices collide as I rock myself, trying not to hurt myself or another.
Leo. I need Leo.
My head spins as people talk. “Keep…she’ll…violent…call Leo…clear.”
I screw my eyes shut, hoping it’ll end. It’ll pass. It’s been months since I’ve had a flashback like this turning into a violent panic attack. Fuck. Anger churns, hating it happened over a messy fucking room.
“Twenty minutes,” someone says.
Fucking crud muffins.
I barely remember I’m in the hallway of the hotel on some floor. Shit. I need to get calm enough to make it to the apartment. My head pounds, making me want to hurl as I groan against my legs. My nails dig into my thighs, which ache, a numbness forming at the bottom of my tailbone.
“Shit, shit,” I mutter, panic now occurring that I hurt myself. Frustration and pain rolls over me. I don’t want to set myself back with healing from a stupid fall.
It sounds like they’re blocking off the floor, keeping people away from the newish owner of the hotel having a damn meltdown.
My heart pounds into my ears. Another round of memories bombards me—cracks in the concrete. Pillars falling. Screams. Dust in my nose. Pain splitting through my feet and Leo’s groans. That final crack. Waking up.
Tears run down my face, wanting it to end. Make it stop.
There’s a scuffle and some arguing. I flinch from the raised voices, hiding my face. More arguing, and then Bobby’s voice, “Let him go.”
Someone sits next to me. Sitting like me, silent.
“He’s gone. You made sure of that.”
I recognize the voice. Struggling to breathe I turn my head. I sniffle as snot starts to run down my face, gripping myself harshly. Matteo adjusts where he sits, grabbing something and holds out a handkerchief. I stare at the blue cloth.
“It’s clean. Was Bobby’s,” he murmurs.
Arm trembling, I take it to wipe my nose. I clench onto it as I lay my head on my knees. Matteo mirrors what I do.
“How…” I swallow hard, voice rough and throat hurting from sobbing, “…do you know?”
“Room smells like his fucking cologne.”
The noise around me has subsided, turning to whispers. There’s still the roaring in my head, and I flinch as another memory slips through.
“I never killed anyone,” he admits softly, which makes me open my eyes. He shrugs nonchalantly. “Leo wouldn’t allow it. Gabriel, well, always go to them first.”
“Hey, no bringin’ that fucker up,” Chesty warns.
Matteo glares past me, then brings his attention back to me. “Sorry.”
“It’s not the name,” I whisper shakingly. “It’s what he did. Almost did.”
Matteo’s face becomes a pained, guilty almost as he slumps more. We stare at each other, him sitting much like me as my muscles ache and exhaustion yanks at me. Tears still fall as more of me feels numb.
Then almost quietly, Matteo murmurs, “Era…davvero un mostro.”
My chin quivers as I can just make out tears forming in Matteo’s eyes. I can only nod. We remain there as I feel some of the panic vanish. Memories returning to the dark crevices of my mind. A part of me wants to reach out, hold his hand. Perhaps for me. Perhaps for him.
Suddenly, Matteo gets up in a panic, holding his hands up. “I didn’t touch her.”
There’s movement, quick footsteps as I turn my head as Leo approaches. He scowls, practically growling at Matteo as he comes to me. He crouches low, expression instantly concerned. “Check in.”
“Yellow.”
His hand strokes my hair, glancing down at the handkerchief I clutch. My body starts to tremble again, feeling heavy and confused. I then whisper, “I can’t feel my legs.”
“I’m going to pick you up,” he says softly. I nod just before he eases his arms around me. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
Leo picks me up easily as I go limp in his arms and put my arms around his neck. He kisses my head, holding me close.
“Chesty, tell Jameson to head the meeting with the investors. Have Owen cancel my other two,” Leo speaks. “Rest of you finish your duties. She’s not some sideshow attraction.”
“He was only trying to help,” Bobby comments. Leo stiffens. “Seemed it did.”
A deafening silence comes over the hall. Through the fogginess of my head, I can’t tell if it’s because Bobby said something, Matteo is here, or just the commotion in general. I then realize why Leo may not be moving yet.
He hasn’t seen Matteo since Rome. It’s been over six months.
“He did help,” I whisper. Leo turns his face towards me, face stern and scary to anyone else.
He looks back at the others. “Get back to work,” he orders. “Chesty bring up Flotsam and Jetsam later.”
Leo turns, walking us to the private elevator. We’re quiet as he gets on, the doors shutting us off from the rest.
“Any feeling coming back?” He asks.
“Tingling.”
“Likely sat too long, constricted blood flow. Did you fall?” I nod. “We’ll ice it, then.”
He kisses my temple when the doors open. He takes me into the apartment, sitting me carefully onto the couch. I adjust how I sit, wincing at the pain along my hip. Leo comes back with an ice pack, water, and some of my medications.
I take them, grimacing as I swallow. Leo then has me lay on my side, putting a pillow between my legs and sits down. He lays my head on his lap, putting a pillow there first as he holds the icepack where I’d fallen. His other hand strokes my hair as I finally find it easier to breathe.
“Check in,” he asks.
“Greenish yellow,” I mumble, feeling like shit.
“Chesty mentioned you hit Grant. Flashback?”
I nod as he takes the icepack away, beginning to stroke my side and thigh. I close my eyes, sighing as I concentrate on him.
“Talk about it?” He asks, and I shake my head. “Do you know what triggered it?”
“Cologne,” I mutter. “It smelled like…yeah.”
Leo exhales sharply, not faltering in his soft caress. Everything just aches as I start to feel my legs more, wiggling them a little. My body is heavy, while my throat is sore and feels swollen.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
“Sore. Feel my legs. Head hurts.”
Leo carefully helps me sit up, getting up again as he grabs the ice pack and goes into the kitchen.
I hang my head, divided between wanting food or a long bath.
He comes back, pulling me over his lap to stretch my legs out.
I look up at him as he places a warm washcloth against the back of my neck, massaging the warmth there.
I smile softly as he gives me a gentle look, stroking his hand over my leg. We’re quiet as he holds me, helping the soreness go away the best he can. It seems like forever before he breaks the silence.
“What did Matteo do?”
“Sat with me. Recognized the cologne, too. I think he just…understood. Or was trying to.” I hold my hand up that’s still holding the handkerchief, dropping it over on the coffee table. “He’s not the same person, Leo. Just like you and I aren’t.”
He inhales sharply, but then there’s a knock at the door. Leo calls out, “Enter.”
Chesty comes in carrying my crutches, setting them against the counter. He gives a nod, and then leaves. We stay there silently.
“Check in,” he says.
“Green, just tired and achy.”
He pulls away the washcloth, tossing it onto the coffee table. I lean against him. Leo takes in a long exhale, and then asks, “Do you want…do you want a relationship with Matteo? As in-laws or friendship?”
I swallow hard past the dryness of my throat. “Yeah, I do. If he’s willing.”
Gently, I pull away from him to look at him. His face is neutral, barely any emotion as I notice that cold mask of his. His eyes though do betray him of guilt and concern.
“Will you be okay with that?” I ask softly.
“If it’s what you want,” he says roughly, continuing to stroke my back.
“Leo.”
“I want to speak with him first.” He clears his throat, adjusting in his seat to pull out his phone. “But I…I need more time.”
“Okay.”
Leo briefly calls Chesty, instructing him to bring up Matteo. There’s some grumbling on the line before Leo hangs up and goes back to cradling me in his lap. Finally, there’s a knock. Leo calls out for them to enter again, and in comes Chesty with Matteo close behind.
Surprise flicks over the young man’s face when he sees the apartment.
“Wait outside, Chesty,” Leo instructs. Chesty gives us a weary look but listens as he scowls at Matteo before leaving the apartment.