When we pull apart, he starts in on the apologizing too. “I’m sorry, Dad,” he says.
“No,” I remind him. “All that matters is that you’re safe.”
I return to Marlena’s side because she looks like she needs an anchor. I put my arm around her again, intending to take her upstairs and get her into the shower. We all need to relax, and the best way I know to accomplish that is by cleaning up. Frankie holds up his cup, indicating that he needs a few more drinks before doing anything else. I give him a knowing smile. He maynot be a soldier, but he’s shown me today that he’s got the courage of a lion.
“Wait, wait,” Marlena says, extracting herself from my embrace.
I look at her studiously, wondering if there is some minor injury I’ve missed.
“What about my brother?” she asks.
“Where is he?” I respond. I forgot all about her brother in all the chaos, the cause of this whole debacle.
“He’s upstairs,” she says. “They put him in a guest room.”
I look at Frankie, who shrugs. I can see that he’s done for the moment. I pull out my phone, taking charge as I always do. I put in a call to my private doctor, a man who knows how to be discreet.
“How soon can you get here?” I ask.
“I’m on my way,” he says. He knows better than to ask anything else over the phone.
CHAPTER 43
MARLENA
“The doctor is on his way,” Francisco says.
I hang my head in shame. I’m so embarrassed that I got caught up in all this and that I forced my husband to rescue me. I’m grateful for what he did, obviously, but that doesn’t stop the negative soundtrack that’s running through my head.
At least Brandon is safe. Although I have serious concerns about his health. In the warehouse, it seemed like he was able to get up. I try to remember, but the whole thing is shrouded in shock and fear. Did he really get up? Or was I imagining that? Or maybe he was trying to get up, but he was packed full of adrenaline.
Brandon slept the whole way home in the car and didn’t stir as Francisco’s men carried him inside. I tucked him in upstairs in a guest suite opposite mine. And that’s when I heard Francisco’s car pull up.
“I’m going to go and check on my brother,” I say.
“I’ll come with you,” Francisco offers.
I don’t have the strength to argue, so I let him escort me up the stairs. Glancing over at my own door, I wonder when I’m going to get the chance to move into my husband’s suite. And do I even want to?
I was trying to escape this life, not get sucked back into the thick of it. Yes, I knew Francisco was the Don, and yes, I was well aware of all that meant. But for some reason, the truth hadn’t smacked me in the face until today.
I’m chewing on my bottom lip, nervous about a lot of things. My stomach feels raw, as if I’ve just thrown up, although that isn’t the case. I’m glad Francisco is here with me, but at the same time, I wish he weren’t. If I’m being honest with myself, part of me wishes we had never met. Then Brandon wouldn’t be here, laid out in bed possibly unconscious. But at the same time, none of this started with Francisco, so I can’t lay all the blame at his feet when my father is the real culprit.
I knock on Brandon’s door just in case he’s awake. There’s no answer, so I go inside. I left the bedside lamp on so that he wouldn’t become disoriented if he awoke with no one beside him. But he’s still sleeping.
Francisco puts his arm around me, and I let him. I want to explain why I did what I thought I had to do. I glance over at him, ready to bare my soul, but I can see that he already knows.
“Let’s let him sleep,” Francisco suggests. “The doctor will be here soon.”
I allow myself to be guided out into the hallway, but that’s as far as I’ll go. Francisco takes pity on me, putting his back to the wall and gathering me into his arms. We stand there like two sentries outside my brother’s door. Francisco kisses my neck. Ifeel myself melt against him, and I realize that I’m running on fumes. I’ve got to keep it together long enough to listen to what the doctor has to say.
Luckily, it seems the doctor has raced over. Francisco gets a text, and a moment later there’s a commotion at the front door. My husband goes to retrieve the doctor, allowing a short and balding man into my brother’s room. He’s not wearing a hospital coat or any clothing that would indicate he’s a doctor. But he does have a bag with him, and he goes straight to my brother’s bedside without saying a word.
Francisco comes around to hug me. I’m not sure if he’s trying to protect me from what the doctor will say or trying to protect the doctor from what I’m going to say. Either way, his presence is calming.
The doctor checks for a pulse, and then peels open Brandon’s eyes and shines a light in them. He tugs the blanket off and frowns at the soiled clothing my brother still wears.
“Help me remove these,” the doctor instructs.
