Holy shit.
I can’t help but letting myself smile, wide and enthused. “Fuck, I wish I was recording that. No one will believe me without proof. Matteo Moretti, Apollo’s favorite brother.”
He glowers, but it’s half-hearted at best. “I literally didn’t say that.”
“That’s not what I heard,” I tease, smirking. “Leon and Cassio are going to be so crushed when I tell them they’ve been replaced.” Poor bastards.
He pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling. “They won’t believe you.”
Rubbing my hands together, I give him a mischievous look. “We’ll see.”
“How about you start helping me carry these boxes downstairs instead of plotting whatever scheme you have cooking up in your mayhem brain.”
Resigned, I sigh. “Fine. But I’m only doing this because helping you is proof that you need me.” Snatching up a couple of boxes, I escape before he can make this weird interaction even weirder.
Anya is okay, and now I am too.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Anya
After waking up from my medicine-induced sleep, I found my phone flooded with worried messages from Matteo. Guilt hit me hot and hard, realizing that I didn’t warn him I would fall asleep for hours and be unreachable. I should have sent him another messagebeforeI took my Ativan.
It’s rare for me to need that particular medication, especially since I’ve been getting better. But when I woke up from a horrid nightmare—a vivid replaying of the worst night of my life—I knew I couldn’t go on acting as if the day would be normal. I would be riddled with discomfort and anxiety. I knew I was likely to experience a panic attack and asthma attack or two.
So I waited an hour, willing my heart to stop racing and my peaceful mindset to return, but it was a fruitless endeavor. I texted Matteo that I was having a bad day as soon as I woke up, figuring that I would be abed and not a very good conversationalist later on. I should have brought my phone with me when I sought out our live-in doctor.
While our doctor’s main purpose is taking care of the family and patching up the occasional wound, he’s been given the responsibility of handling my medication when my psychiatrist or Tiffany aren’t around. I can take my daily meds on my own just fine, but with my history of suicidal ideations and attempts, everyone agrees that it’s best I don’t have open access to the harder stuff.
I took my pill in his quarters, and by the time I made it back to my bedroom, I was half-unconscious. When I woke up past noon, I learned that not only Matteo was unaware I took my emergency medicine, my father was too. I expected that he would hear from our doctor after I went to my room, but he was busy around the house and didn’t inquire after me until Apollo Moretti called him on Matteo’s behalf.
Dad has just finished filling me in on all the details of that phone call—after repeatedly asking if I was feeling better now—while sharing a light lunch with me. I have, of course, already sent Matteo several text messages apologizing for worrying him and assuring him that I’m okay too.
He replied with words that I haven’t been able to reply to yet, nor have I been able to stop thinking about.
Matteo
I’m coming to see you as soon as you feel better.
“I’m very proud of you,dochen’ka,” Dad says, patting my hand on top of the dining table. “I’m sorry that I took so long to check up on you, it was a busy morning?—”
“You don’t have to be sorry,” I interrupt. “The doctor would have come to find you if he thought I needed you. I just needed a dreamless sleep to shake off the nightmare. I’ve been a lot better, but there are always going to be bad days. Tiffany and I havetalked about it a million times. I won’t let one step back force me to retreat. I feel better, really.”
He grunts, accepting my reply. “Matteo did good, getting a hold of me. I…I have not always been the most accepting of your friendship, but he’s proven himself to be a good man. I won’t doubt him from now on, not unless he suddenly gives me a reason to.”
“He won’t.” I can’t help but smile. “Maybe you could work on getting Uncle Lev on the same page as you?”
Dad sighs, shaking his head. “Your uncle has his own reasons for being so protective over you. I’m not sure anything I say will warm him toward Matteo, but I can assure you he won’t act on his feelings. Irina and I have both ordered him to keep his desire for violence away from the boy.”
Somewhat amused, but also relieved, I nod. “If he’ll listen to anyone, it’s the two of you.”
He grunts, agreeing.
“Dad?” I ask nervously. “If I wanted to go see Matteo—on my own—would you allow that?”
He stiffens, eyes widening a fraction. “Why can’t he come here?”
“He can,” I acquiesce. “He said he would come as soon as I’m feeling better, but I think I want to go there and surprise him instead. I want to get used to doing things that make me uncomfortable, and I’d like to see where he lives, you know?”
