59
Gianna (22 years)
I woke to a soft sound of whispers, an earnest conversation, my eyes roving up to the unfamiliar ceiling. It was plain white where my bedroom was a white molded beauty edged with gold trimmings. There was a daunting moment of hearing Salvatore’s voice and I frowned. He was dead. Slowly my memory began rolling in.
Zayne! The sniper. The shock on his face. The tears in his eyes. The cry on his lips. The shake of his head.
Panicking, I banded my arms around my stomach, it was no longer cold, my body didn’t ache, yet the gut-wrenching fear persisted. Did he survive?
I wet my lips. “Zayne,” I called out.
Someone moved into my vision. “Shh,signora, it’s okay.” Rosana’s smiling face comforted me as she reached for my hand, squeezing lightly.
“Is he all right? Did he make it? Where’s Julian.” I rasped, gripping her hand tight. “How long has it been since the shooting...” The breath caught in my throat, the tears immediate. I blinked it back. Zayne had to be okay.
“You were in and out of consciousness for the first two weeks. Then mostly sedated for another two but you’ve been moving around, you just forgot the incident until today,” she whispered in Italian. “Dr. Lipschitz calls it temporary amnesia due to trauma. But you’re healing well, remember.”
“Almost a month of not remembering the incident and I thought I was on a holiday. It’s no wonder I feel so well rested.” My attempt at humor was lost me as much as Rosana. She looked away for a second. Then I felt the mattress dip near my feet, and I dropped my gaze.
“Ciao, bella.”
My body froze, my heart leaping from my chest, and my every muscle pulled taut. The familiar voice brought me upright, wincing as my shoulder stung a little, my gaze crashing with Salvatore.
“How the fuck—” I could hardly get the words out. Sucking in a breath, I tried again. It didn’t come. Dressed in dark jeans and a white knitted shirt, I’d never seen him this casual, ever. He looked...different. Older or maybe tired would be a better description. And then another memory railroaded Zayne’s completely. I’d been dreaming of Salvatore a lot lately, had he been here all this time. And what about the last, it felt the most real of all the dreams. Was it real?
My eyes narrowed, I climbed out of the bed, inching away from him. “What are you doing here?” I muttered as Rosana left the room. “Wait. How the fuck are you alive?” I had no idea if it was adrenaline at seeing him that was pumping energy into my body or was it just the desire to run away from him.
“Nice to see you too,bella.”
My hackles rose. “Really? You appear out of thin air after I fucking shot you and you’re arrogant as ever.” Christ, the man riled me up like no other. “Where the hell is Julian and where am I?” I could feel the tendons pulling at my shoulder. I headed for the door and Salvatore grabbed my arm. I swiveled sharply, knocking his hand away.
“You need to go easy on that shoulder.”
“Wow, I’m shocked you care,” I scoffed.
He cocked his head to one side, studying me. “I always cared.”
I stared at him for a full two seconds before incredulous laughter burst out of me. “Then you’ve got a fucked-up way of showing it,” I snorted between laughter. “I can’t believe I actually dreamt we made love last night.”
