“You’ll need to come with me,” Andy says. The object of her attention looks around in confusion.
“I…ah…”
“Into my office, please,” she says, still firmly. “And I’ll need you to strip.”
“Strip?” he says, his dark brows drawing together. “I’m sorry…what?”
“You appear to be running a fever,” she says, then bobs her eyebrows. “Because you’re Just. So. Hot!”
“You’re hitting on me… here.” He deadpans.
“Maybe…” Andy flirts.
“And does that work for you?” he asks coolly.
“If it doesn’t, I can always roofie you,” she replies. I make a choking sound. If the administration gets wind of this, she’s going to be in so much shit. But I’m still trying to recover from my initial surprise. Not surprise…horror.
The man leading this group is Dario Caraldi. Beside him is a younger man, who could be related. The one Andy has latched onto like a limpet is Mateo Ricci. He’s not amused.
“Stop fucking around,” Dario snaps now. “Where’s my son?” As he says the words, the little boy we’ve just attended to comes flying across the room.
“Papà!” he calls out, flinging himself at the man. Dario swoops down and swings him into his arms. After a brief embrace, he draws back to look into his face. His eyes move over the neat bandage on the boy’s forehead.
“What is going on here, Daniele?” he asks. His tone is firm, but his expression is tender. I can’t seem to reconcile the man I know him to be with this loving father in front of me.
“Noah threw a rock at me,” he replies. “It cut my head. But Dr. Andy fixed me up. And Sister Lovie was nervous, so I held her hand.”
“Sister Lovie?” Dario says, looking at me. I’m struck dumb in the face of that slate-gray stare.
The boy leans forward and whispers something into his ear. Dario smiles, then looks at me.
“An angel, huh?” he says. I’m wishing the ground would open up and swallow me now.
“He was a very brave young man,” Andy steps in. Her previous indiscretion melts away as her medical professionalism takes over. “Eight stitches in total. But I did my very best work. There’ll barely be a scar.” She smiles.
“I don’t mind scars,” the kid pipes up.
“Scars make a man,” he and his father say in unison and then smile at each other. If I wasn’t so shellshocked, my heart would melt a little. Though I have no recollection of seeing any scars on the man. Of course, my attention was elsewhere.
“Thank you, Doctor,” Dario says to Andy. “And you, Sister Love,” he says to me. I nod mutely. “Now, who is this Noah person, Dani? Did you give him a taste of his own medicine?”
“Yip,” says Daniele. “He’s got a black eye!”
Dario chuckles. “Good man.”
Andy shoots me a look, but I say nothing. She’s not a big believer in teaching kids to settle disputes with violence. Neither am I, to be honest. But bullies seldom respond to reason.
The boy squirms, and Dario sets him on the ground, just as Noah’s mother flies in like an angry crane.
“That child…!” she begins, then eyes the three men and takes a step back. One look is enough to tell her this is a fight she doesn’t want to start. She changes tactics and rounds on me. “I’m reporting you for misconduct,” she hisses, then turns and flounces off.
Dario’s son grins at me, then turns to his father, who is aiming a narrow-eyed stare after the retreating woman. “Sister Lovie yelled at her for being mean to me,” he says. “She told her she was going to put handcuffs on her.”
The younger man next to Dario snorts out a laugh. “I’d pay money to see that,” he says.
“I’m guessing there’s paperwork to attend to?” Mateo asks, ignoring the others. I nod.
“See to it, Mateo,” Dario says. “And find out more about that bitch. I’m taking Dani home.” He glances back at me. “Thank you.”
