“I don’t mean, like, what am I gonna do, financially,” she replied, raising her voice slightly. “You know I can take care of myself. I just mean… what am I going to, emotionally? You don’t seem all that bothered by the danger you put yourself in all the time, and it hurts me because I feel like you don’t even think about me, waiting for you here in bed, hoping you’ll be back in one piece!”
“Oh, Alana,” I breathed, standing up and going over to her. I immediately folded her into my arms. She felt so small, s
o fragile against my body, but I knew she wasn’t. She was tougher than anyone; stronger than all the Varasso family combined. It was why I loved her so much.
Alana sniffled and then stepped out of my arms, blinking fast against tears.
“It’s just… I… I’m…”
I frowned, watching as she struggled with her words. She was always so eloquent, such a smooth talker. After all, she’d managed to charm Angelo Varasso himself within five minutes of meeting him.
Her hands fluttered at her stomach, bare and smooth. She was only wearing a bra and a pair of my old sweatpants, the drawstring pulled as tight as it would go. My head cocked to the side in confusion, wondering why she was touching her abdomen like that. Was she sick? Was she going to die on me?
“Luca,” Alana murmured, lifting her head to meet my gaze, her hands still resting oddly over her belly button. “Luca, I’m pregnant.”
Oh.
-
Come home to me.
-
I knew I was alive because of the pain. It ripped through the upper left side of my body like fire, leaving me breathless, unable to move. I was vaguely aware of my brothers shouting in the background, their voices muffled by a strange distance, as if I were underwater.
Lights flashed behind my eyelids and I moaned.
“Stay with me, brother,” I heard Alessandro mutter from a million miles away.
I tried to do as he said, but I couldn’t.
I gave into the darkness. And, this time, it wasn’t accompanied by a memory.
It was total, complete darkness.
3
Something Always Breaks
“Mr. Varasso?”
The fire was gone. Or, at the very least, had subsided to a dull, vague, steady smolder.
Underneath my hands, scratchy hospital sheets touched my skin.
What the hell?
Wasn’t there somewhere I had to be?
I cracked open my eyes, only to have them immediately assaulted by the harsh glare of fluorescent bulbs directly overhead. Squinting, I glanced over at the nurse in seafoam green scrubs holding a clipboard and staring down at me with furrowed brows.
“What happened?” I mumbled, trying to sit up.
The nurse didn’t stop me from trying, but she leaped forward immediately and offered me supportive hands as I wiggled my strangely heavy, clumsy body into a sitting position. Pain flared through my left shoulder as I did so and, utterly confused, I glanced down at the mess of bandages that stretched from my collarbone down to my elbow. My left arm had been fixed in a sling, as well.
And then I remembered.
I’d been shot.