“Austin.” Luca knocks my hands away from him, and my heart sinks. “Austin, look at me. Focus on me.”
I blink. Then blink again. I think sweat’s dripping into my eyes because he’s blurry. So blurry. Swimming before me with terror etched into every line of his face. “Baby?”
“Hey, shh.” He steps toward me, raising his hand slowly to cup my face. “You’re okay.”
Of course I’m okay. “But you… You—”
He shakes his head. “I’m okay too. It’s okay. We have to call 911.”
What? Why would we do that?
“Austin. Sit down.”
Warm hands land on my forearms, and then I’m being pulled. I go, my feet moving independently of my brain. “Sit.”
“I’m sorry,” I choke out. “Please don’t be afraid of me.”
Big gray eyes fill my field of vision. “Austin, I’m not afraid of you. There’s a lot of blood, okay? Damien’s barely breathing. I need to call 911.”
Luca steps away from me, and I watch him go. Then I glance down at my hands. I’m covered in blood, and my knuckles are aching, screaming in pain.
I can hear Luca talking, but I can’t make out any of the words. Everything sounds loud but far away at the same time. It’s deafening. Like the roar of a house fire. Like wood splintering and collapsing, the roof caving in as the flames shoot higher and higher.
My stomach twists and rolls, damn near making me double over. Where’s Luca? I sit up, eyes darting around the room in my frantic search for him.
He’s kneeling a few feet away, body hunched over a prone Damien. He’s… wiping his face, clearing blood from his skin.
I’m the worst fucking person. I hurt him. I beat him half to death, and my only thought is that Luca is showing him more kindness than he himself ever received.
It looks like he’s trying to assess the injuries, and my stomach lurches again when I take stock of how bad Damien’s face looks. The aching in my knuckles intensifies, a burn spreading up my arms and settling in the muscles of my shoulders. God, how many times did I hit him?
Holding my hands up in front of me, I look at my knuckles. They’re raw and bleeding, bruised and red.
“Luca?” I whisper.
“It’s okay. Help is on the way,” he says, barely sparing me a glance over his shoulder as he continues tending to Damien’s wounds.
I come back to myself in pieces. The feeling in my fingers comes back entirely, making the pain there worse than I thought possible. Spreading to my hands and up my arms. As more of my body comes back to me, more pain blooms across my skin before settling in my heart.
Oh my God. Luca is never going to forgive me. He’s never going to trust me again.
Sirens blare outside, and my head snaps up.
Fuck. I was defending Luca. I know this. But I’m going to have to answer questions, and I don’t want to. I want to be with Luca.
The door slams open as EMS rushes in. Luca moves out of the way. Someone starts a line, someone checks his vitals, and they give him morphine.
I stare at Luca’s back as he watches on. What is he thinking? Is he horrified? Does he think I’m a monster? And worse, what if I am?
Damien’s loaded onto a stretcher as the paramedics talk back and forth in hushed tones.
More sirens sound out, and seconds later, the sheriff is walking through the doors, taking in the scene with assessing eyes.
Luca approaches him, saying something I can’t hear over the ringing in my ears. He’s probably telling him to get him far away from me. I wouldn’t blame him.
I stare at my lap, shame threatening to swallow me whole.
A gentle hand cups my chin, then tilts my head back. Luca settles his eyes on mine. “Hey, baby,” he coos. He’s never called me baby before. “It’s okay. Come back to me.”
