Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83776 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83776 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
I heard a version of that story earlier in the day from Elena. But in her telling, Simon claimed the meeting had been a trap from the start, and Santoro’s men were waiting to kill them the second they walked out on that pier. It was only their own impeccable planning and the chaos of the crowd that kept things from turning into a huge disaster with all three of them dead on the ground.
“You didn’t make Santoro try to kill you.” I kiss his chin and his cheek. I wish I could melt my head into his so he could read my thoughts, at least for a second. “He was going to do what he did no matter what. Your father saved your life because he loves you. You’re not broken, Davide.”
“I should have done something.” Davide blinks at me and some semblance of him begins to fade back into view. “I should’ve been the one jumping on my father, not the other way around. I was selfish, baby.”
“Then you’d be on that hospital bed right now, and you might be dead. I’m sorry your father is hurt, but I’m not sorry you’re safe. You can’t sit here and torture yourself over something you can’t change. You did nothing wrong.”
“I know.” He leans back and stares at the ceiling. “I should be on the street right now killing every single Santoro soldier I can find.”
“That’s not what I meant,” I say, feeling like I’m completely out of control here. The depth of his sadness is almost painful. I want to throw him a rope and reel him back, but I don’t think he’d take it, even if I could. “None of this is your fault. You have to see that.”
“It’s just like it was all those years ago.” He speaks very softly and squeezes my hand hard. “My father came to save me from Santoro again, only this time he didn’t make it back out.”
“He’s going to be okay.”
But Davide doesn’t respond. I lean against him, resting my head on his shoulder, and I wish I could draw away whatever pain’s still causing him to blame himself for everything.
I finally manage to convince him to head home for a shower and something to eat. But a few hours later, the hospital calls, and everyone piles into Don Bianco’s private room in the far corner of the building guarded by two very large men in conspicuous jackets. The staff ignores them like they don’t exist, and I wonder how much money it takes to get treated like this. But it turns out that we’re in the Bianco Critical Care Ward, and that explains a lot.
Don Bianco is awake and speaking when I arrive with Davide. He instantly goes to his father’s side while I linger toward the back of the group, feeling like an outsider again. Davide’s whole body leans toward his father like an arrow launched from a bow, and it makes me feel a little better seeing him so animated as he touches his father’s arm and speaks to him quietly.
“Good job getting him home for a little while,” Freddie says, coming up next to me and giving me a side hug. “I’m sorry I wasn’t in a good place and couldn’t do it myself.”
“That shouldn’t be your responsibility,” I say and hug her back. “I’m sorry this is happening. I’m just doing the best I can for him, that’s all.”
“He’s a lucky man to have you.” Freddie beams and it fills me with so much warmth I feel my cheeks turn red. “We’re all lucky to have you.” She guides me into the group of Bianco children, and Elena makes room for me without a second glance. Even Laura gives me a slight nod, which isn’t exactly the same as welcoming me with a kiss and a hug, but it’s better than threatening to kill me. It’s like I’ve become a part of them in my own way, not quite an insider, but closer than I have any right to be.
And I like it. I like how close they are, how much they seem to love each other, how much they care. My family’s close too, but my parents are both dead now, and my brothers are busy raising children and loving their wives and spending every waking moment managing the affairs of the Famiglia. I was always an afterthought with them, always standing just on the margins of everything and watching as their lives trickled past.
My brothers love me. I know they do. Only they still don’t know what to do with me.
But here, I’m in the thick of things. I shuffle over next to Davide and he nods to me, the color in his face better than it has been all day, and he puts an arm across my shoulders. I lean into him and feel marginally better as his warmth covers me.