I huff a small laugh. “You’ve seen me in the ICU, Papito. I don’t know how to love quietly either.”
His hand comes up, slow, like he’s giving me time to pull away. I don’t. He laces our fingers together, big palm warm over mine.
“You’ll let me protect you? Not like you’re helpless. Just let me stand in front when it makes sense. Beside you the rest of the time.”
“I’ll let you stand with me. Not in front of me. Not behind me. With. And we handle my ex legally. Police. Restraining order. Whatever it takes. No vigilante bullshit.”
His mouth twists, looking good enough to eat. “I was hoping for a little vigilante bullshit.”
“No,” I say firmly, withdrawing a hand to place on his chest, over his heart. “That’s how you end up back in my ICU bed. And I have had enough of you, Dimas boys, in my hospital for one lifetime.”
A reluctant chuckle escapes him. “Okay. Legal. We do it right. We have a great family lawyer that I can call to get started?—”
“Papito, you don’t fix my whole life for me. I will still do things, but you can help. I still send money home. I still work my shifts. But maybe I don’t do it from a place of panic and isolation anymore. Maybe I do it from your couch. From your bed. From a place where Paco is safe too.”
He squeezes my hand like he’s anchoring himself to the words.
“Okay, okay, I get it. No fixing everything, just split the bullshit. Share the good stuff. Together.”
Together.
The word no longer feels like a threat. It feels like relief, support, and love. I lean forward, cup his face with both hands, and give him the softest kiss, which has him growling.
“You can do better than that,” he mutters against my lips.
His hands move to my hips to scoot me off my stool and onto his lap. Before I can fully straddle him, a familiar shout hits my ears.
“SOF, MY ANGEL? WHERE ARE YOU?
We both jump to our feet when the curtain flies open. Emilio rolls back in, grinning like he won the lottery. Somehow, they got an IV in his arm while he was down there. Good, he’s going to need it for fluids and meds overnight.
“I told you they didn’t leave. They would never!” he crows as if the staff would actually place bets on whether the family stayed or left. “My favorite duo. Did you kiss? Tell me you kissed. The vibes in here feel like kissing.”
“Cállate,” I scold, but my cheeks heat with embarrassment as the nurse casts me a curious look. “You almost died. Show some respect.”
“Almost only counts in horseshoes and orgasms. And I plan on having many of the second ones once I’m cleared for activity.”
Massimo groans. “I’m asking for sedation. Right now.”
The ER doctor slips in behind Em with the X-rays. Slide them up on an old light box. White ribs glowing against black.
“Good news, Mr. Dimas.” She traces her pen along the healing ribs. “No new fractures. Old injuries are stable. Significant bruising along this side, some deep abrasions, but you got lucky.”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. My knees go soft for a second. I grip the end of the bed.
Em flexes his free arm, then immediately winces.
“Told you. Blessed by Sofia’s hot nurse hands.”
The doctor shoots me a look. Massimo looks at the floor. I glare at Emilio, who’s oblivious to all the innuendos flying around the room.
She clears her throat and continues, “We’re going to keep you overnight for observation because of the impact and your history, but I don’t see anything surgical.”
“I don’t want to stay. Mas, tell her no.”
His brother shakes his head. Em’s chin swivels to me so fast, his neck pops.
“Sofia, my angel. No, I can’t stay here. They will hurt me. If you’re not here, they will jab needles in my eyes. Do experiments on me. Take my boy’s juice and sell it on the black market. They’ll?—”
