I grab hold of the doorframe before he can pull me any further, which finally makes him stop.“Or what?You’ll make me?”
Actually, I wouldn’t mind one of those fiery, demanding kisses from him right now.And I wouldn’t mind him dragging me into one of the empty rooms and ripping my clothes off to do things to my body that only he can.Things so good I forget where I am.Who I am.
Because I desperately need that.To forget.To feel good.Need the pleasure only he can give me.
“This is neither the time nor the place for this,” he says as though he could read my mind.And maybe he can.Because I could see how much he wanted exactly what I wanted for that split second before he silenced me.In his eyes, that’s where I got the idea.
“Go be with your sister,” he says.“I’ll be right back.”
I want to say, “Don’t hurry,” but I stop myself.He’s all I have, and he’s all I need and that’s already a scary enough thought.I don’t need to add worrying that I’ll end up losing him too because I can’t keep my big mouth shut.
Chapter42
GIANNA
Matteo is takinghis time getting back with the coffees and whatever protein bar he’s going to call breakfast today.The beeping and flashing numbers around Chiara are making it harder and harder to breathe the longer I look at her.How can she sleep with all that noise going on around her?They call this a hospital?
“Good morning, Gianna,” the doctor from yesterday says behind my back, startling me so hard I forget how to breathe altogether.“Did you get any rest?”
“Some,” I manage while trying to remember how to draw breath properly.
“Your sister is doing better,” he says and opens the door.“Her vitals are stable, so we’ll try to wake her up now.Put on the protective suit and follow me.”
A nurse is holding out a translucent white onesie for me and I don’t think I’d ever put on a piece of clothing as fast as this one.
Being in the same room as Chiara brings it all home with renewed force.What if she doesn’t wake up?What if I never see her open her eyes again?Or speak?Or smile?What if her hand never squeezes mine back as I hold it.Looking at her through the window was different.More distant.Something that didn’t touch me quite the same as standing next to her bed, holding her lifeless hand in mine, watching her chest rise and fall so very slowly.Her skin is neither warm, nor cold, but something in between.Chiara has never beensomething in between.She was always so full of life, whether exploding in joy and love, or raging in anger.
“Are you ready?”the doctor asks, and I almost say no.We have to wait for Matteo to get here.Because if she doesn’t open her eyes.If she doesn’t recognize me…
But I don’t have to say that, because he’s already here.I don’t even have to turn to know when he walks into the room.The heat of his gaze on my back is telling me he’s here clearly enough.
“I’m ready,” I tell the doctor just as Matteo places his arm around my shoulders.I lean on him just a little.Just a tiny bit.Just enough to stay steady.Doesn’t mean I forgive him.
“Now, your sister lost a lot of blood, and we had to resuscitate her twice during surgery as I already told you,” the doctor drones on, making my heart go wild.“She’s young so I expect her to make a full recovery, but there’s always a chance that?—”
“Just get on with it,” Matteo cuts in.
“Please,” I add to dull some of the edge of his demanding tone.Not that he didn’t say exactly what was on my mind.
“Yes, fine,” the doctor says and starts switching off some of the machines, while nodding at the nurse to administer whatever is in the syringe she had attached to my sister’s IV line.
“You can call her name,” the nurse says.“She’ll want to hear a familiar voice.”
I watch my sister’s face so intently it’s the only thing in the whole room I truly see.And Matteo’s arm around my shoulders is the only thing I truly feel.
“Chiara,” I whisper.“It’s me, Gia.”
“You can speak louder than that,” the nurse chides me affectionately.
“Chiara, wake up,” I say a little louder.“Please, wake up.”
My heart is still thundering in my chest.And it grows even wilder as nothing happens.Chiara doesn’t open her eyes.Her face is just as expressionless as before, her hand just as lifeless in mine.
I call her name again, squeeze her hand, caress her face.Nothing.
But I don’t stop, calling her again and again, telling her to wake up, fighting the urge to shake her, to start screaming her name and make her stop pretending she can’t hear me.
And then it finally happens.Her eyes flutter open, the bright green flashing amid all the colorlessness of her skin and lips.And it’s as though all my birthdays came at once.And all Christmases too.
