by Bethany-Kris
Yeah, okay.
Had he said that out loud?
Renzo didn’t know.
“Lucia?” he asked.
Lucian sighed. “She’ll come in on the last day with your sister and brother. The team has a way they like to introduce people or things that they know are going to … cause you emotional upset. That’s all.”
He still didn’t like it.
“The doctors say you don’t remember a lot about what happened,” Lucian said after a moment.
Renzo passed the man a look, but said nothing. What could he say?
Lucian nodded. “Once the police have been around, they do their thing, and we believe they are satisfied in what they’ve gotten—or not gotten, in your case—from you, then everything will be explained. I’m not purposely keeping it from you because I think you’ll tell something that you shouldn’t, but rather, you might not be able to control it, Ren. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Lucian lifted the folder he’d been holding for Renzo to see. He waved it a bit, and smiled. “Now this … you should understand very well what it means once I tell you what it is. Your contract with me and The League. You were in a coma for a little over a month, and that means during that time, your contract ran out.”
The man put the folder on Renzo’s lap in the bed. He couldn’t pick it up—his arms were tired from the exercises from earlier, and he still didn’t trust his brain to tell his limbs to do the right thing. He just looked down at the folder instead of reaching for it.
“You are a free agent,” Lucian said. “You can go or do whatever you want, Ren. You’ve paid your debt. Is that congratulations worthy, do you think?”
Huh.
“Yeah,” Renzo mumbled.
“Congrats, then. You earned it.”
TWENTY-TWO
“You okay?”
Lucia looked up from her jittery hands to find her mother standing in front of her with a to-go coffee in each hand. “Uh, yeah, I think.”
Jordyn nodded, and then gave a little laugh. “You know, with the way you’re shaking … I’m not sure that I should give you this cup of coffee.”
She had to give her mom credit. There was something to be said about a person who could call you out on your shit without saying it directly. That was Jordyn Marcello in a nutshell. She was too polite to say something that someone might feel was rude, but she wouldn’t hesitate to still call you out in her own way.
Lucia had been acting like everything was fine leading up to this day. Every time someone asked her if she was okay with how everything was shaking out, she would nod and agree because she didn’t want them to know how nervous she was.
This wasn’t about her.
This was all about Ren.
His recovery.
His health.
Just him.
Today was the first day she was going to be allowed in to visit with him since he woke up almost an entire week ago. She’d spent day after day next to his bed wearing his sweater he’d left at her hotel room, and begging him to wake up. Because then, they didn’t know if he would. And if he did wake up, they didn’t know if he was going to be the same.
He’d looked like hell.
Like death in a bed.
Battered, bruised, and fragmented.
Broken bones.
Blackened eyes.
Swollen skin.
The injuries faded as they kept him in that induced coma, sure. The swelling went down, and in some cases, the casts came off for some of the broken bones that weren’t as bad as others. His face lost that blackened color from the worst of the bruises, and it was only then that they could confirm that the hairline fracture on his orbital sockets wouldn’t need surgery. The swelling had been so bad that they thought the X-rays were not showing them the full extent of the injuries.
It had been bad.
So bad.
Thing was … Lucia just sat there talking to him. She didn’t care if he woke up and wasn’t the same as he had once been. She didn’t care how long recovery would take, or the fact that he might never be one-hundred percent the same again.
She just needed him to wake up.
And then she got mad … she got mad because look at what he did to himself. He almost fucking killed himself, and she had to sit there day in and day out just to watch him fight for a life that she didn’t even know if he wanted.
If he did want his life, would he have done what he did?
Then, the guilt would come.
Because if not him … then it would have been her brother, her cousin, and so many others being buried. He was willing to sacrifice himself for them. For people who had never given him a second glance because that’s just who he was.
Lucia couldn’t settle it.
She couldn’t settle her feelings, or confusion.
She went from anger to guilt to hope … to a million other things she didn’t understand. But wasn’t that selfish of her to feel that way? It wasn’t her lying in that bed. It wasn’t her who made the choice to let the bomb blow.
It wasn’t her.
It was him.
“I was angry at him,” Lucia whispered. “For doing what he did. I told him that I was angry at him—that I would hate him if he died.”
Jordyn let out a quiet sigh, and dropped down to crouch in front of her daughter. She set the cups of coffee to the side, and rested her arms over her jean-covered knees. God knew she appreciated her parents more than ever lately. They were always there doing whatever she needed them to do. Whether it was words or actions, they were at the ready for her.
Like now.
Lucia refused to look up at her mom. It was just easier this way to stare at her trembling hands and pretend like she wasn’t cutting herself up inside because of shit she had let slip out of her mouth when she was reacting from emotions and a bad situation.
“Lucia,” her mom murmured.
She still wouldn’t look at her.
Jordyn didn’t push, thankfully.
“For one thing—he was in a coma for over a month,” Jordyn explained, “so whether or not he even heard you is a toss-up. Second—you’re allowed to feel, Lucia. You are allowed to have feelings about this, and you don’t have to understand them. Absolutely no one, and him included, will expect you to have all of this processed just because he’s alive and awake, okay? That’s not how this works.”
“But he’s—”
“Not the only one who is dealing with trauma,” her mother interjected firmly.
Lucia blinked.
She hadn’t thought of it that way.
Jordyn smiled when Lucia finally glanced up to meet her gaze. “We’re all human, Lucia. We all say things when we’re angry or hurt that we should never say—things we wish we could take back the second they come out of our mouth. And words hurt, no doubt, but words are also just words. Words can be corrected. They can be fixed with actions, and new words. But it’s what you feel in here,” her mother said, touching the spot over Lucia’s heart with her fingertips, “that makes all the difference. It’s in there that you know what matters. I promise, he’s going to know it, too.”
“Lucia?”
She looked up to find the nurse standing in the doorway of the waiting room with a clipboard in her hands.
“Yeah, that’s me,” Lucia said.
“He’s ready whenever you are.”
Now or never.
Jordyn smiled, and leaned in to kiss Lucia on her forehead. “Say hello for me and your dad. I heard his sister and brother are coming in today, too, so try not to get him too worked up while you’re in there, okay?”
Lucia laughed.
Right.
She was the one who would work Ren up.
It was always the other way around, right?
• • •
“You know, I worked twice as hard all week so that I would be able to sit up on the side of this bed to greet you, Lucia. Don’t make me regret that because you just want to stand in the door
way.”
Lucia smiled, and let out a laugh. Her gaze fell on the man sitting up in the bed, and her heart clenched in the best way. Oh, it hurt, sure, but it felt damn good, too. Like dragging in a deep breath that burned your lungs after holding your air for too long.
It burned.
And it relieved.
Yeah, that’s exactly how it felt.
Renzo grinned at her from the bed, and she just stared. Maybe it was stupid, but she just wanted to look at him. From the moment he woke up, she had been kept away. She didn’t want to, but the team of doctors were adamant this was what would be best for his brain. One step at a time, they kept repeating. His brain needed to process one thing at a time—including people.
The remaining bruises were pretty much gone—all the swelling was nonexistent. He still had a cast on his left arm, and one on his right foot up to his knee. She knew the one on his arm would be coming off within the next couple of weeks, and they would use a sling. The one on his leg … that was going to be another couple of months.
Maybe three.
Who was to say?
“You coming in, or …?” Renzo teased.
She wanted to cry.
His voice was normal.
His words were clear.
His smartass was back.
Those were all things that people had reported to her that he was struggling with over the last week. His words would get jumbled, he’d get confused when people couldn’t understand what he was saying to them, and then he’d react from that. Sometimes angrily, and other times, he’d be emotional.
It was a toss-up.
His brain heard one thing.
His mouth said another.
This meant good things, though.
Right?
“Lucia,” Renzo murmured.
“I was so scared,” she whispered.
Renzo swallowed hard, and nodded. “I know—I’m sorry.”
“Don’t … God, don’t apologize for doing an amazing thing, Ren.”
He tipped his head to the side, and chuckled. “You know, the police finally stopped hounding me yesterday, and your father explained the bits I was missing. Some of it came back, and some of it was still a black hole. I still can’t remember why I decided to let the wires go. I remember that I didn’t want to die.”
Oh, God.
Those tears she had been holding back finally made their appearance known when she blinked. They tracked lines down her cheeks, but she didn’t even bother to wipe them away or try to hide her emotions.
“I wasn’t ready,” he said after a moment.
“But you still did it.”
Renzo let out a loud exhale. “I don’t know why, though.”
Lucia nodded. “But would you do it again?”
That took him a little longer to answer. She didn’t know what he would say, and she didn’t have any expectations about it, either. It was his right to answer her question the way he wanted to—honestly, if he wanted. Or a lie, if he needed.
“Knowing what I know about the situation and the bomb … and the fact seventeen men were able to go home and tell someone they loved them again, yeah.” Renzo glanced up and met her gaze. “Even if that meant I didn’t get to do that same thing again—you already knew, right? Did you need me to tell you again?”
Lucia dragged in a ragged breath. “I need you to tell me that every single day of my life, Renzo.”
“Okay, baby. Okay.”
It seemed like with that out of the way, an invisible rope had come to tie itself around Lucia’s middle. Something yanked on it, and her feet started moving. She couldn’t stop, either. Not until she was all the way across the hospital room, and got her hands on this man she loved entirely too much.
She loved him crazy.
Lucia wrapped her arms around him, but not too tightly. Not that it mattered, he tried to wrap his other arm around her back—his only one that wasn’t in a cast. She felt the tremor working its way through his arm as she pulled back, and he tried to touch the side of her face with his palm. His arm just wouldn’t lift.
Renzo let out an angry noise, and shook his head. “Sorry, I just—”
“No, it’s okay,” she whispered quickly, dropping a kiss to his scowling lips to make him smile again. “Promise.”
When she felt his lips curve against her own, she kissed him again. And then again until her lungs were burning with the need for air, but she didn’t care. She needed his kiss as hungry and desperate as it was. She needed his lips working against hers to bring her back to reality because it felt like she had been in hell for far too long.
In the background, something beeped.
Entirely too loud.
Renzo pulled away with a chuckle, but tossed a glare over his shoulder at the machine that had made the offending noise. It looked like it was monitoring his blood pressure and heartrate. “Fucking thing—it gives me warnings.”
She grinned, and stroked his face.
Someone had shaved him.
It should have been her.
“Does it?”
Renzo nodded. “Yesterday, when they let Cree come in … it kept beeping, and they made him leave. I couldn’t get them to understand that’s what I needed. He was pushing me, and I needed it.”
She gave him a look, and Renzo only tried to shrug, but it didn’t come off right. She didn’t acknowledge it, and neither did he.
“Cree gets it,” Renzo muttered.
“He’s the guy that handled you at The League, right?”
“Yeah.”
She didn’t press for more.
He didn’t offer.
Lucia went back to hugging him where she stood between his legs, and used her fingertips to trace over the line of his features. He was happy to sit there, close his eyes, and let her do whatever she wanted. He couldn’t know, but she was imprinting his features to her memory.
She had been terrified she would forget them.
“Wait, wait, wait … we don’t want it to be a surprise for him!”
“Ren! Ren!”
Footsteps followed the shouting.
Diego’s shouts.
“Ren!”
“Young man, you wait just a sec—”
The machines started beeping.
Diego came into the room crying. “Ren?”
Lucia thought to step back from Renzo, and let his little brother come to greet him, but he didn’t let her. Instead, he used her to help him get off the bed. On shaky legs, sure, and an unsteady body, but he did it. She was sure he would need help to get back into the bed. She knew it probably took every bit of energy he had, like sitting up wasn’t already a taxing event for him.
And he waited for his brother to come to him. Because that was Ren. He’d always think about them before he ever thought about himself.
He didn’t know anything different.
• • •
Five months later …
Lucia tossed the keys to her apartment into the glass bowl at the same time she kicked off her heels. There was nothing like coming home after a long day, and just … breathing. Something about that was comforting to her. She needed it to keep her sane.
Although, lately, Lucia had to admit that California didn’t feel like home. She’d been back for almost three months—the second the doctor gave Renzo his walking papers, so to speak, from the hospital, she had to come back here to finish out her internship with Kelly and the gallery.
More than anything, she wanted to be in New York. That’s where Renzo was doing the majority of his recovery, although he did travel quite often to Vegas, and more recently, directly to her, too.
She also missed her family.
All the time.
And Renzo.
She missed him, too, even if he’d just walked out of her place after visiting for a span of days. It never got easier, and that’s how she knew.
Lucia wouldn’t be staying in California for very much longer. She’d let Kelly know before she left the ga
llery that day, too. The woman seemed to understand, and even admitted that Lucia just didn’t seem like her attention was where it needed to be after coming back from New York.
She’d almost laughed at that.
Understatement of the century.
How could her attention be where it needed to be here when her heart and soul was somewhere else entirely?
She had another month here before her internship would be finished. Kelly was kind enough to offer Lucia a full-time job at the gallery, if she wanted to take it. The pay was incredible, as were the benefits and the experience she would get from it.
It was her dream.
She could live that dream elsewhere, too.
Heading through the apartment, the first thing Lucia did was pull her phone out of her pocket. She was already calling Renzo’s cell before she even entered her kitchen. She froze all over at the sound of that ringing in her ear also echoing from somewhere in her apartment. Pulling the phone away, she listened.
Sure enough …
The ringing was coming from the back of her place.
Lucia shook her head, knowing exactly where he was in her place. Sometimes he did this. He just showed up, and she came home to find him sleeping in her bed, or sitting in front of the television with his favorite bowl of cereal.
She never asked Renzo what sent him running back and forth. She didn’t know if he just wanted to be around her, or if he wanted to escape something else.
He didn’t talk about it.
She didn’t ask.
Soon, she found him.
Lucia leaned in the bathroom doorway and eyed Renzo where he rested in a dry bathtub. Him, and those fucking bathtubs. All these years, and he still did it. It was sad in a way, but also amusing.
Whatever he needed.
“When did you get here?” she asked.
Renzo glanced up, and flashed her a sexy smile. “About an hour ago.”
“Did you come from Vegas?”
He shrugged. “Cree was driving me crazy.”
Lucia didn’t respond, but she didn’t need to.
Renzo was far better—he was even back at work for The League, although now, as far as she knew it, he decided what jobs he wanted to take, and which teams he wanted to work on, if that was the case. He was mostly healed, and back to normal. All his injuries were gone, and he looked perfectly fine.
