Chapter 49
Chapter Forty-Nine
ROMAN
I wake up in a sterile hospital room, the antiseptic smell burning my nostrils as fluorescent lights stab at my eyes.
Two faces swim into focus when I come to - Lilith's and my father's.
Lilith is perched on the edge of the vinyl chair beside the bed, her slender fingers clutching mine so tightly her knuckles have gone white, her usually radiant face now drawn and pale with dark circles shadowing her topaz-jade eyes.
My father hunches on the other side of the bed, his salt and pepper head dipped low, weathered hands wrapped around a dented cardboard coffee cup that's been squeezed nearly flat.
When I blink my eyes open, Lilith's face transforms instantly, color flooding her cheeks as relief washes over her features like a sunrise.
"Oh, thank God!" she whispers, voice cracking.
My father's head jerks up, coffee sloshing over his trembling fingers, crow's feet deepening around his bloodshot eyes as all the years we’ve been apart seem to dissolve in a single moment of naked vulnerability.
“Roman,” Lilith says. “Thank God you’re awake.”
I grip her hand tighter, my fingers crushing hers like I'm dangling off a cliff.
My head feels like it's been stuffed with cotton balls soaked in novocaine—thoughts trying to wade through quicksand. I’ve obviously been given painkillers.
My usual mental state is a Category 5 hurricane of rage, blood-red memories whipping around like shrapnel, slicing at me from the inside out for twenty fucking years.
And being with Lilith usually feels like the first perfect wave of the morning—clean, bright, electric.
But this? This is like being underwater with earplugs in, wrapped in a straitjacket, my emotions mummified. Artificial. Chemical. Wrong.
I fucking hate it.
I blink against the harsh hospital lights.
"Yeah, I'm awake. Sort of." The painkillers make everything float six inches above reality.
I should feel something stronger seeing Lilith again—relief, joy, something—but the meds have muffled everything to a dull hum.
Just days ago, I was telling Jack I might never see her again.
If Serafina had her way, that would've been it.
Game over. No more Lilith in my life. Even if I'd managed to win Lilith back, my father would've been collateral damage, and that would've poisoned whatever Lilith and I rebuilt.
Funny how much I care about the old man's happiness now.
When he was sober, he was the kind of dad who'd spend hours teaching me to throw a curveball.
He's got that same gentleness Cameron has—the brother who never raises his voice even when he should.
And here's Dad, sitting beside my hospital bed after driving six hours from Carmel, while none of my brothers made the trip.
Not that I blame them. They've got their own fires to put out.
Dad shifts his weight from one foot to the other, his weathered hands fidgeting with his phone.
"Your brothers are here," he says, glancing toward the door where the fluorescent hallway light spills in.
"I'll go find them." His eyes dart to the nurse's station visible through the half-open blinds.
"We're not supposed to crowd around the hospital room.
The protocols are people can only come in two by two—like Noah's ark.
" He attempts a smile that doesn't quite reach his tired eyes.
A smile tugs at my lips. I stand corrected.
All seven of my brothers drove the full six hours to be here.
My chest should swell with gratitude, but the morphine has wrapped everything in cotton.
Still, beneath the haze, a cold realization forms: they wouldn't have come unless something was seriously wrong.
Did the doctors tell them something they didn't tell me?
Were they racing against time to say goodbye?
Cameron's the first one through the door, flashing that million-dollar smile. "Rome," he says, voice thick with relief. "We almost lost you."
Lost me? From a shoulder wound? Give me a break.
"What happened?" My throat feels like sandpaper.
"Two hours in surgery. Touch and go the whole time." Cameron's smile fades. "Bullet nicked an artery. You nearly bled out right there in the shop before the ambulance even arrived. Then surgery and you’ve been out ever since.” He shakes his head. "Man, you've got to stop with this hero complex."
My jaw tightens despite the pain meds. "Listen, jackass," I growl, "if I hadn't stepped in, Lilith would be in the morgue instead of me in this bed.
" I turn away, wincing. Even drugged to the gills, Cameron still manages to piss me off.
Hero complex. What was I supposed to do?
Let the woman I love die? Not a chance. I'd walk barefoot over broken glass for her. A bullet? Small price to pay.
Cameron holds his palms up. "Easy, easy now. I'm just trying to tell you to take it easy for awhile. You're going to have to dial it back for a few months while your shoulder heals."
Fuck that. I'm supposed to be training with Max for the Ironman next year. My shoulder will heal up in no time. No matter how much rehab I'll have to do to get it there.