The curtain settles behind Massimo. The second he’s gone, I can breathe easier. Able to delay the inevitable conversation I owe him. My pulse is still high, the adrenaline still sitting hot in my throat from the way he almost fell apart at the desk. Almost collapsed onto me in relief when we locked eyes.
I know he’s protecting me with everything he has, but in the moment back in the ER waiting room, he looked like the young guy he is. Too freaked out to go through this twice. Too inexperienced to handle what I see and deal with on a daily basis. And that innocence and purity, I wanted to protect. Finally, understanding how he feels about me, because I feel it for him.
“Sof?”
I turn back to the disaster on the gurney. Emilio is staring at me like he’s been waiting for this exact moment. Scraped up, walking boot half torn, shirt ripped to shreds, and bleeding scrapes everywhere. Still holding his hand, I catch his wrist and turn his palm toward the overhead light.
“You let the mailbox win, Nene. Shameful.”
His mouth curves, that reckless, too-bright grin that makes you want to hug him and smack him at the same time.
“It didn’t win. I did. The mailbox lost. Look at me. Still hot. Still irresistible. And my plan worked.”
My stomach twists.
“You planned to get into another wreck. Maybe you don’t get to ride anymore. You wrecked both bikes, yes? Then no more motorcycles for you.”
“Technicalities.” He tries to wave the hand I’m inspecting and hisses when it pulls. “Owie, my angel. I’m delicate.”
“You’re not. You’re my brave, tough guy that’s going to let me get all these out.”
He shrugs and beams. “I AM all those things. And your mi burro.”
I open my mouth to tell him exactly what kind of idiot he is, but he beats me with some confusing words. “Mi burro?”
“Yeah, it means boyfriend. I’ve been learning Spanish on my phone, so I know what those DSLs are saying when you turn away from me.”
It’s cute if not completely wrong. I don’t bother correcting him. If he wants to learn Spanish from an app so he can know when I’m talking about him, it will take years for him to catch on.
“You weren’t gonna come back.”
No lead-in. No softening. No filter. Just a verbal punch straight to the sternum. My breath gets stuck halfway down my throat.
“Emilio…” I start, but even I can hear the guilt in my voice.
He lifts his brows, waiting, like he already knows he just ripped open something I’ve been keeping down. Not dealing with. My fingers tighten around his hand. He hisses but doesn’t move. I hate how the truth burns all the way through me.
Before I can answer, the nurse comes back with a tray. Tweezers, gauze, chlorhexidine, and that tired look ER nurses get when the shift has already been too long.
“Are you family?” she asks, glancing between us.
I snort under my breath. “Algo así. ICU upstairs.”
Her eyes catch on my lanyard. That’s all she needs. She puts the tray in my hand like she’s glad to be rid of the problem, then moves to the monitor to check his vitals. Emilio relaxes back on the pillow, his hand still in mine like he trusts me with his life.
He should. He’s given it to me twice now. I pick up the tweezers. First splinter comes out easily. Tiny thing. Too much blood for such a little piece of wood.
He flinches. “Ouchie, my angel, have mercy on my dirty little soul.”
“Be quiet. I’m working. And you deserve worse.”
He lets his head loll to the side, eyes glued to my face.
“You came,” he whispers as if the nurse standing right beside him can’t hear. Even over all the craziness down here, veteran nurses like her can hear conversations two curtains over and down the hall.
“Of course I came.” I keep my eyes on his skin, not his eyes, and not on her. “When the brother of one of my patients calls me, crying into the phone about another accident, I’m going to show up. Especially when he’s dumb enough to steal his brother’s bike.”
I keep it strictly on the facts. It’s no one’s business here what I did with the twins. No one needs to know where this might go from here. Doctors and nurses are always hooking up here. Cheating on spouses and hiding affairs. I’ve steered clear of all that drama. I don’t need people to realize they missed out on mine and need to be the source of all the gossip. I’d hate that.
