My eyes snapped to his. They were glued to the doors.
“Regret and shame we must contend with as men, when we cannot protect our women from harm. You refused to look her in the eye after she told you what Nemours had done to her. Do not do that to her now. When she comes around, it is imperative that you be there. It is never what we can do for them, only us that they want.” He glanced at Lola, who had the rosary beads to her mouth, praying silently. “Do not push her away because of your own feelings. You do, when you are afraid to lose—to lose her center, where she holds her love for you. You should know by now that to love a woman is to love a butterfly. You must love all of her metamorphosis to truly love her. You must not fear the change. With this loss, change will come. I speak from experience.”
“When she comes around,” I said.
“When.” He nodded once, fiercely. “I will give the family a generic update, where we stand on her condition. The rest will be up to you. After, I am going back in to be with her.” He hit his chest with his closed fist.
Eva’s voice broke through the deep fog, the madness that I kept at bay with sheer will of mind.She knowswhoyou are,whatyou are to her, and she'll remember. You need to remember that too. It’s very important.She’llremember.
You better remember, Scarlett Fausti. Do you hear me? Even if you can’t feel me, you better remember. You better. I’m there with you. I’m here. Hold on to me. Don’t let go, don’t you dare let go of me.
I collapsed to the floor, hands to my head, praying, pleading for someone to have mercy, for someone to saywhen.
Chapter Thirteen
Scarlett
Under and above, I swam in and out of consciousness. I’d pop up only long enough for a sustaining breath before being pulled under again. I felt light as a feather underneath, but weights fought against me when I tried to rise.
Head floating, I swam in perfect, balmy pools with no waves, easy strokes, moving like the water that took me. I saw things underneath the surface, things that sometimes felt beautiful, other times, disturbing. I couldn't seem to put words to images for them to make enough sense. It was all instinct, all feeling.
I know what you are, but I can’t name you, so then what do I call you?
I yearned for the surface, and when the time came that I could float above for longer than a minute, I came to myself in two separate parts—body and soul. A rock had shattered the glass that joined them together.
“There you go. Look at me now.”
Overwhelming nausea seemed to bring me up from the depths. I came to completely, whispering my discomfort.
“Okay. Okay.” A familiar voice said softly. “I will make you better.”
Not long after, the urge leveled. A feeling of warmth enticed me to sink once again. I had to fight it, but I found it difficult to muster the energy required. Drained. Hollowed out to my core.
“Uncle Tito?” I whispered.
“I am here,piccola colomba. How are you feeling? Still sick?”
“I feel better.”But not like myself, in two separate parts.
“Bene. That is good.”
I swallowed hard, my mouth dry, and the soreness of my throat made me wince. “Brando?”
“He is right outside. The attending doctor wanted a word, and then your father did. The last I checked.”
It took me a moment to remember more words. “How is he?”
“Are you breathing?”
I felt the air around me, sharp with cold, before inhaling so deeply that I tasted it on my tongue. Antiseptic. Blood. The general aromas that make a hospital instantly recognizable—perhaps the scents of life, of death, and some precarious ledge in between—lifted me even further, loosening the constraints of the swirling tide. “I believe so.”
“Then he breathes.”
“Has he seen me?”
“Yes, when it was time, I gave him word that he could. He stepped out only for a moment.”
“What—” I struggled to remember and then tried to hide from remembered feelings. Pain, fear, panic, a reverberatingpop!, and then nothing. Still, curiosity nagged at me. “What happened to me?”
