He's gone.
My breath hitches. A scream builds in my chest and I swallow it down hard.
He's back.
He kneels again, hands shaking, water bottle in hand. "Here. Drink. Come on, baby. Please." He holds it to my lips. I can barely hold it. He does it for me. My throat burns. His hand touches my cheek. I lean into it. Tears keep falling. "Can we go back inside and clean your—"
"No."
I don't even know why I said it. I just don't want to go back inside. He leans in and kisses my forehead again, slower now. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm so sorry for everything. For all of this. For putting you through it." His voice shakes. "I never wanted you to see this part of me," he says.
I close my eyes. Let myself fall forward. Into him.
"You did so good," he whispers. "Rava, you did something fucking amazing." My hands are cold. I feel him kiss the side of my face. "You didn't freeze. You didn't run. God, you found the box. You saved it. You saved me."
I want to talk. I want to say I was scared out of my mind, that I didn't know what the hell I was doing, that my chest hurts and my fingers are going numb. But he won't stop. And I don't want him to.
"You saved my ass. You saved everything. I don't even know how you did it. You were alone. You were scared, and you still knew what to do." My fingers clutch the back of his shirt. It's the only thing holding me upright.
"I owe you my fucking life," he whispers, forehead to mine. "And I'm not saying that to be dramatic. I mean it.You saved me. You're the bravest person I've ever met. I'm not joking, baby," he breathes. "You thought quicker than me. You acted. You protected me. That's supposed to be my job."
I let out a choked breath, something like a laugh. His hand grips the back of my neck. "I'm so fucking proud of you."
Gio's voice is quieter now. "Hey," he says gently, brushing my hair back. "Wanna go inside? Let me take care of your hand. Please."
I nod fast. Everything still feels like it's spinning. "Did you hit anything else?" he asks, crouched in front of me.
I don't answer right away. I just move my head. He nods, like that alone is a miracle. "Good. That's it. Deep breath, baby."
"I thought—" My voice breaks immediately. "God, she was so close. Gio, I could hear her, she was right there. I thought—I thought she was gonna find me."
His arms are around me again before I finish the sentence. He holds me tighter this time. "I know," he murmurs, voice shaking. "I know, baby. I'm so fucking sorry."
"And then—" I let out a sharp breath, almost a laugh, almost a sob. "She threw some kind of metal thing. It hit my shoulder. I had to stay completely still. I wanted to scream so bad."
He presses his lips to my temple. I close my eyes. My fingers are still clutching that goddamn box. "You did it," he says, voice barely a whisper. "Rava, you did it. You saved everything."
Just as the adrenaline starts to crash, something clicks in my brain. "It was my dad," I say suddenly. "He told me. That night. He said he'd make you pay."
Gio stiffens. "Don't worry about this now. You're here. That's all that matters. So let's clean this up. Please. Before it gets worse." My shoulder hurts. My hand is still bleeding. But Gio is still here. And I'm not hiding anymore.
36) Smile For The Camera
Rava
Gio lifts me off the balcony floor gently. I'm still clutching the box. It feels wrong to bring it back into the house. Letting poison seep in again. He sees it on my face.
"Listen to me," he says. "We'll take care of your hand first. Then we're getting rid of that thing for good, okay?"
I sniff, nod. He nods too, like we're making a pact. "Okay." We step back inside. The bedroom is a fucking mess. Things are everywhere. Open, torn through, scattered. It doesn't feel like his room anymore.
Not the warm, quiet space I woke up in this morning. I feel tears start to sting, but I hold them back. Gio notices. "Don't let this stress you out," he says softly. "I'll fix it. All of it. It'll look exactly the way it did before."
Then he smiles a little. "Good excuse to actually dust under the bed." I let out the smallest laugh. I sit down slowly on the edge of the bed, still holding the box in my lap. I hate that this happened to him. I hate that I know who did it. And I hate that I'm definitely right.
"Stay here," he says gently. "I'll grab everything we need."
He jogs off down the hallway. I hear him rummaging through drawers, cabinets. Then he's back, nudging aside the scattered mess on the floor with his foot as he makes his way to me.
