Chapter 21
Rosie
Waking again, I keep my eyes closed as I listen for any movement. It’s so quiet, it’s unsettling.
Slowly, my mind begins to work, and blurry memories trickle through me. Having lost complete track of time, I remember flashes of Enzo, my parents, an MRI machine, and Dr. Milazzo.
Jesus, it feels like I’ve been run over by a train.
When I recall Enzo telling me that Rodian would help Tim get home, my eyes snap open. As soon as my vision focuses on Enzo, it feels as if my soul heaves a relieved sigh.
He’s changed out of his combat clothes, and seeing him in a charcoal T-shirt, it’s so familiar it actually hurts.
Leaning forward, he brushes his palm over the side of my head, his tone soft and tender as he says, “Hi, bella mia. How do you feel?”
“Okay.” Then my sight latches onto his arm, and I shoot up so fast into a sitting position that my head spins for a moment. “Did Tim get home safely?”
“Yeah.” Enzo pulls his phone out of his pocket and unlocks the device to show me a video.
I watch as Tim runs up a short cobbled path, and when he opens the door, yelling something, a woman comes barreling toward him, tears streaking down her face while shock tightens her features.
My lips curve up when they fall into each other's arms, my eyes stinging.
This is why I worked my ass off. To keep that kid alive so he could make it home.
The relief filling my heart is one of the greatest emotions I’ve ever experienced.
Then my gaze snags on Enzo’s fingers, and grabbing hold of his wrist, my lips part with shock as I get a first close-up of the scars marring his skin.
“Oh my God,” I gasp, my eyebrows pulling together.
I rip the phone out of his grip and drop it on the bed so I can look at his palm, the back of his hand, and wrist, which are all covered in marks. Some are thin and pale while others are pink and raised, cutting over his knuckles and disappearing between his fingers.
His skin looks tight in places, shiny where it’s healed badly, and when my gaze moves higher, my stomach drops even more.
Burn scars stretch over his forearm, cutting through his Godfather tattoo. The ink is still there, but parts of it are warped beneath the damaged skin.
My eyes dart to his other arm, where I see more scars and burns.
A distressed sound escapes my lips as my eyes fly to his face. “What happened to you?!”
Enzo shakes his head. “It’s nothing.”
When he moves to get up from the chair he’s sitting on, I snap, “Don’t tell me it’s nothing! What happened?”
A smile spreads over his face, throwing me for a loop, then he says, “Fuck, I missed hearing you take that tone with me.”
“Enzo,” I groan, brushing my palm over his forearm. “Tell me.”
The smile fades as he looks into my eyes. “When I got to the fortress, it was just a pile of burning rubble. I thought you were buried alive, so I dug.”
My lips part as my face goes slack from shock. “You dug through fire? For me?” Once again, I take in his arms. My God. My voice is nothing but a croak as I say, “The pain you must’ve felt from the burns.”
My heart breaks knowing Enzo was hurt because of me.
“No, Rosie.” He grips hold of my chin with his other hand and moves to sit by me on the bed.
“Don’t do that. I would’ve removed every fucking block of concrete with my bare hands if I could.
I’d burn the skin from my body for you. Don’t blame yourself.
” The corner of his mouth lifts. “Besides, I think it looks badass.”
I trace a pink line with my fingertip, then ask, “Does it still hurt?”
“No.” Enzo leans closer, and when he presses a kiss right beside my mouth, a breath catches in my throat and my heart skips a beat or two before scampering off at a wild pace. His tone is deep and filled with something I’ve never heard before. “Everything is better now that I have you back.”
Don’t read anything into Enzo showing you affection. He’s just relieved you’re not dead.
When he pulls back, I can’t make eye contact. It’s been a while since I’ve had to deal with the butterflies he gives me, and I’m not at full capacity to keep my heart on a leash.
I glance down and notice I’m wearing Mom’s clothes, the soft pink sweater I always tried to sneak out of her closet and comfy yoga pants.
My eyes widen, and panic shoots through me as I almost shriek, “Who changed my clothes?”
If it was Enzo, I’m screwed if he saw the tattoo.
“Your mom,” he replies, and the relief hits instantly.
Thank God.
“Where are my parents?”
“They went to eat something. They should be back soon.”
Throwing the white covers back, I get out of bed, and it has Enzo asking, “Where are you going?”
“To the bathroom so I can shower. I feel like roadkill.”
“You don’t want to wait for your mom to come back so she can help?”
I shake my head. “I’ll be quick.”
“What about the IV?” He rises to his feet, coming closer to me.
“I’ll manage.”
“Let me help you with getting the sweater off.”
Even though I appreciate it, there’s no way I’m letting Enzo help. I can’t risk him seeing the tattoo. I’ve just survived one hell and can’t face losing him as a friend. That would be the blow I won’t survive.
I quickly shake my head. “I’ll be fine.”
Just then, Dr. Milazzo comes into the room, and when he sees I’m out of bed, a smile spreads over his face. “You are the best patient I’ve ever had, Miss La Rosa. I wish all the others would eat and sleep the way you do.”
My eyebrow shoots up. “I ate?”
“You were out of it for the past three days,” Enzo explains. “But you ate every bite I fed you.”
“Three days!” My left eyebrow joins the right one real fast in my hairline. “You fed me?”
“And you ate everything.” A grin tugs at his lips, and it might be my imagination or the knock I took to the head, but I can swear his voice is seductive as he says, “Like a good girl.”
Rattled, my gaze flicks between the two men, then Mom and Dad come into the room.
We move at the same time, the IV line tugging on my hand and almost making the stand topple over, but Enzo catches it quickly and brings it closer. My legs feel shaky as I slam into my parents, wrapping an arm around Mom and another around Dad.
We all talk at the same time, so happy to be reunited, and when I burst out laughing, they look at me as if I’m some miracle.
I suppose I am, seeing as I’ve basically returned from the dead.
“I’m so sorry for the pain I’ve caused you.”
Dad shakes his head, his hand repeatedly brushing over the side of my face. “It was the fucking Russians.”
Mom turns her attention to Dr. Milazzo. “How is she today?”
“Medically, she’s stable enough to leave,” Dr. Milazzo says, his eyes moving from me to Enzo.
“But that doesn’t mean she’s recovered. Her body has taken the rest it needed, and she’s keeping food and fluids down, which is good.
What she needs now is quiet, safety, and familiar faces.
But I’d like to see her in three days for a follow-up.
I’ll do a house call so you don’t have to come in. ”
“I get to go home?” I ask, but then it strikes like a lightning bolt, and I whisper, “I don’t have a home.”
My fortress is gone, along with my apartment and everything I owned.
Dammit! My favorite pillow.
All my retro clothes.
“You’re staying with us,” Mom says.
I love my parents, but I don’t know how I feel about moving back in with them.
“Or you could come home with me,” Enzo interjects.
My gaze darts to him, and my stupid heart reacts before my brain can stop it.
Go home with Enzo? With my crush on him somehow even stronger after everything?
That sounds dangerous in a totally different way.
“You don’t have to do that,” I say quickly. “I can stay at a hotel for a few days while I look for a new place. The sooner I’m back on my feet, the sooner I can get to work and go on with my life.”
“No,” Dr. Milazzo says, his voice firm but kind.
“Absolutely not. You’re not staying alone for at least a week, preferably two.
You need someone with you to make sure you eat, sleep, and don’t try to work the second nobody’s looking.
If I could have my way, I’d order you to take a vacation for at least three months. ”
Jesus! I don’t know what I’d do with myself for three months. That’s not happening.
I open my mouth, but he points a finger at me.
“Don’t argue with me, Miss La Rosa. I was there when you took your first breath, and I’m not letting you undo three days of progress, because you’re stubborn.”
Dad lets out a rough breath, his eyes moving over my face. “He’s right, Rosellina.”
Mom’s arm tightens around me, but she doesn’t say anything, and somehow that makes me feel emotional and I have to fight the urge to cry.
I love them for wanting me with them. I really do. But the thought of moving back in while they worry themselves sick every time I move a muscle or want to go somewhere makes a heavy feeling settle in my chest.
Dad notices, and his expression softens as he brushes his hand over the side of my head. “I think you should go with Enzo.”
Mom glances at Dad, and for a moment, it looks like she’s going to argue, but then her gaze settles on my face.
Dad keeps his eyes on me. “He’s always been the one who’s gotten you to rest when you worked yourself into the ground. Your mother and I could beg until we were blue in the face, but the second Enzo showed up, you listened.”
My cheeks warm. “Dad.”
“It’s true.” He glances at Enzo. “Besides, there’s no one I trust more to keep you safe than him.”
Enzo steps closer, and my pulse speeds up again.
“You won’t be a burden, bella mia,” he says, his tone steady and sure, as if he’s already made up his mind and only gave my parents a minute to think the idea was theirs.
“I want you with me. My place is secure, Dr. Milazzo can check on you himself, and your parents can come by whenever they want.” His eyes hold mine, making it impossible to look away.
“You’ll have everything you need. Let me take care of you. ”
Well, if you put it like that, who am I to argue?
Mom cups my cheek, her eyes drifting over my face. “I just want you somewhere safe.”
I glance at Enzo again, and my voice is softer than I want it to be when I say, “I guess you’re stuck with me.”
A hot smile curves his lips, a look of triumph in his light brown eyes, which somehow make the green flecks pop.
“I’ll go buy you some clothes and toiletries to tide you over until you’re strong enough to go out for a shopping trip,” Mom says.
“Oh, you don’t have to worry, Aunt Eden.” Enzo steps closer. “Gianna has already taken care of that.”
“Is she at your apartment right now?” I ask, wanting to see my best friend.
“Yes. She’s making sure everything is ready for you.”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “Wow, you were pretty sure I’d agree to stay with you.”
He brushes his hand over my shoulder, smoothing some of my hair down my back. “I hoped.”
Chuckling, I begin to feel very tired and lean into Mom. “By the way, thanks for letting me wear your favorite sweater.”
A loving smile settles on her face. “It’s yours now, my baby.”
“Let’s take the IV out,” Dr. Milazzo says.
I sit on the bed again, hating how quickly I burned through my energy.
We all watch as he removes the needle before pressing a small square of gauze over the spot and taping it to the back of my hand.
Locking eyes with me, Dr. Milazzo orders, “Don’t do too much too soon.”
“Yes, Doc.”
I glance at the doorway when I hear footsteps, and when my grandparents come in, a smile splits over my face.
“Oh my God,” Grandma gasps. “You’re up!” She hurries toward me and engulfs me in a tight hug, then Grandpa joins, and I’m fussed over for a good ten minutes, which is food for my soul.
Jesus, it’s good to be back with my loved ones.