Chapter 21 #2
She looks so… small. That realization guts me as I take a slow tentative step forward. Then another. Lowering myself beside her, I perch on the edge of the mattress with care, as if even the shift of it beneath my weight might disturb her.
Pregnant… I still can’t quite believe it. My fingers hover above hers for a moment, then settle gently over her hand. She stirs slightly at the contact, her brows twitching in her sleep—but she doesn’t wake.
Her dark lashes fan across her cheekbones. There’s a bruise blooming just beneath one eye. My jaw clenches at the sight of it, rage and guilt curling in my gut. I should have protected her… them, better.
I reach up and brush a stray wisp of hair from her forehead, letting my knuckles linger just a moment longer than I should. Her skin is soft. Still her. Still my Eva.
But everything’s different now. My eyes shift down to the slight outline of her stomach beneath the blanket, the change subtle, barely there. But I see it now. I feel it.
Our child. The one she didn’t tell me about. The one Yaro almost stole from me before I even knew he existed. Cautiously, I slide my hand beneath the blanket and lay it flat over the curve of her stomach.
I don’t know what I’m expecting. Movement? A sign of some sort? But there’s only warmth. And I laugh inwardly at my childishness. Of course there's nothing yet, it's too soon. But knowing, well it's enough.
Bending forward, my lips brush softly against the back of her hand. Then, voice barely above a breath, I speak into the silence that sits between us. “I didn’t know,” I whisper, my throat tight. “I’m so sorry I didn’t know.”
I can’t help but wonder if she was going to tell me at dinner, if that’s why she had looked so hopeful at the idea. My palm stills, steadying over her belly.
“I’ll protect you,” I murmur. “Both of you. With everything I am. With my name. With my blood. With my life.”
I close my eyes, resting my forehead against the edge of the mattress, still clutching her hand as if it’s the only thing holding me together.
Because maybe it is. The room falls quiet except for that soft humming once again. And then—
A soft voice. Barely audible. “...I believe you.”
My eyes snap open.
Her voice—raspy, low, worn thin with pain—but it’s hers. And it slices through my heart with joy. Some part of me, I realize, had worried she’d never wake, never recover. That I’d lose them both and that even in death Yaro had won, had claimed his revenge.
I lift my head and I’m surprised to find that she’s looking at me. Lashes fluttering, gaze hazy but fixed on mine. Her lips curve faintly, too weak for a smile, but there’s warmth there behind her words. Trust that I wonder if I even deserve.
“You should be resting,” I say quietly, sitting up straighter, my hand moving instinctively to her brow. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
Her fingers tighten around mine.
“Don’t go.” The words are whispered, but there’s no mistaking the plea in them.
“I’m not. I’m right here,” I reassure her, torn between the guilt of disturbing her and the need to talk to her. “But you need rest. Real rest. The doctor said—”
“I’ll rest better… with you here.” She blinks slowly, exhaling shallowly. I can see the pain on her face even as she tries to hide it. “Just stay. Please.”
I hesitate—only for a second, evaluating my options. Then I move. Carefully shifting onto the bed, mindful of her fragile state, placing my body firmly beside her so that she can lean against me for comfort.
I slide my arm beneath her head, my other wrapped protectively across her waist as she curls gently against my chest. Her breath hitches slightly as she shifts, finding the most comfortable spot, her hand curling against my sternum on instinct.
This close, I can feel every breath she takes. Every flutter of her lashes against my collarbone. Every soft tremor in her fingers. She’s breakable. Precious. And she’s mine.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper against her hair.
Her reply is barely audible. “I know.”
I feel her breath even out, the tension in her muscles slowly easing as she nestles closer, her hand now splayed over my heart like she’s grounding herself there. And I wonder if the added warmth helps to ease her aching muscles.
The silence stretches between us, not awkward, not heavy—just right. Then, her voice again. Barely above a whisper.
“I thought I was going to die,” she says.
I close my eyes, pressing my lips against her temple. “But you didn’t. You’re here. And you’re safe.”
“For now,” she murmurs. “But it could’ve ended there, in that warehouse. And I wouldn’t have gotten to say it.”
“Say what?” I ask, pulling back just slightly enough to see her face. Her expression is heavy with exhaustion but clear, searching for words.
Her lips curve faintly, trembling just a little. “That I love you.”
My breath catches.
The air leaves my lungs like a punch, but I don’t move. Don’t speak. I can’t find words and only stare at her, stunned by the weight of her admission.
She continues, her fingers brushing softly over my jaw. “I didn’t expect it. Didn’t plan on it. But I’m in love with you, Tolya. Even when I shouldn’t have been. Even when I tried not to be.”
Then, I lean down, gently brushing my lips over hers. It’s not rough. Not desperate. When I pull back, her eyes glisten. And mine—hell, mine probably do too.
“I love you too, Eva,” I say. “More than I can possibly say.”
She exhales shakily, as if she’d been holding her breath waiting for me to admonish her.
“I didn’t expect it either,” I murmur, tracing the backs of my fingers along her cheek. “Didn’t even know I was capable of love in the first place. But then you happened. You healed whatever it was that was broken in me after my parents died. You showed me what it is to love and be loved again.”
Her smile is soft, fragile as she gazes up at me with a slight smile. I press another kiss to her lips—slower this time. Cherishing the moment. She responds with a gentle sigh, her hand curling behind my neck to hold me there a moment longer.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I whisper. “You and this baby—you’re my whole world now. And I swear to you, Eva, I’ll protect you both with the last breath I take.”
“I believe you,” she says again, voice barely audible. And this time, it sounds like forever.
A soft knock breaks the moment. It’s tentative, careful, and instinctively I know it’s Nico. I look toward the door, but it’s Eva who speaks first, her voice still soft but steadier now.
“Come in.”
The door slides open slowly, and Nico steps in, shoulders stiff, his dark eyes scanning the room before landing on her. His gaze flicks to me briefly and he hesitates on the threshold gauging the emotions in the room.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he says, his voice quieter than usual, a soft smile present. “I just wanted to check on my little sister before I go.”
Eva lights up in a way that steals my breath. There’s no trace of the pain or exhaustion she’d worn just moments ago. Only relief. She rolls carefully, gingerly, onto her other side, away from me, and reaches for him.
“Nico,” she breathes. “Come here.”
He approaches cautiously, moving to the opposite side of the bed, deliberately keeping space between us. I don’t blame him.
Eva reaches out and tugs him into a one-armed hug, her fingers curling around the front of his shirt as she leans her head to his shoulder.
“You’re going to be the best uncle ever,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “You know that, don't you.”
He freezes. I watch his jaw twitch, the weight of that statement settling into his bones. Then he exhales and rests his cheek briefly against the top of her head.
“You really think I’m uncle material?” he mutters, a hint of that signature Italian sarcasm slipping in.
She laughs softly, pulling back enough to look up at him with silent admiration. “You’re bossy, dramatic, and annoyingly protective. You’ll be perfect.”
He huffs out a sound that could almost be called a laugh. “You scared the hell out of me.”
Her eyes fill with quiet relieved tears. “Me too.”
They stay like that for a moment, siblings reunited, the wounds of the past few days beginning to scab over.
I don’t say anything. I don’t interrupt.
And a part of my heart aches with yearning for the sort of bond that they have.
I just watch, one arm still wrapped around Eva’s back as she lies halfway between us.
This, right here, this was our family now. An odd configuration but we would each fight for one another.
Eventually, Nico clears his throat and stands. “I’ve got to go take care of a few things. I just wanted to see for myself that you were… you know, alive.”
“Alive and healing,” Eva says with a cheeky grin, despite the bruises shadowing her face.
He glances at me again, something unreadable flickering beneath his expression. But all he says is, “Guess I’ve got some baby shopping to do.”
He heads for the door, and just before stepping out, adds over his shoulder. “I’m going to spoil that kid rotten. Just so you know.”