Alina blinks slowly.
“Good. Can you squeeze my hand, honey?”
Alina’s fingers twitch weakly in the nurse’s grip.
“Perfect.” The nurse checks the monitor again. “Alina, do you know where you are?”
“Hospital,” she whispers hoarsely.
“That’s right. You had surgery, but you’re doing well.” The nurse turns slightly toward me. “Her throat will be sore for a while from the breathing tube. Small sips of water or ice chips only for now.”
She presses a call button into my hand. “If she gets nauseous, confused, or the headache suddenly worsens, press this. Otherwise, let her rest.”
With one last glance at the monitors, she leaves us alone again, which Alina doesn’t seem happy about. Her eyes widen as she lets out a small, pathetic whimper. Fear flashes across her face. She tries to move, to pull away, but her body betrays her, too weak to respond to her panic.
“Don’t,” I say quickly, keeping my voice soft. “You’re safe. You’re in the hospital. You were hit by a car at the airport. Do you remember?”
She blinks slowly, processing the information. Then she winces before speaking, her voice a fragile whisper. “The car… I was running…”
“From me,” I finish, unable to keep the pain from my voice. “You thought I wanted revenge for Andrea.”
At the mention of his name, tears fill her eyes. Her hand trembles in mine. “I killed him,” she rasps, the words barely audible. “I killed your dad.”
“And I would have killed him myself if you hadn’t,” I tell her fiercely. “He was going to murder you, Alina. I saw the security footage. Everything.”
Confusion clouds her features again. “You… you’re not angry?”
“The only thing I’m angry about is that I wasn’t there to protect you.” I bring her hand to my lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “That I let him get near you at all. That you felt you had to run from me.”
A tear slips down her cheek. “Why did you come after me?”
The question hits me like a physical blow. How could she not know? How had I failed so completely in showing her what she meant to me?
“Because I love you,” I admit, the words breaking free from deep inside me. “I love you, Alina. Not as property. Not as my wife on paper. I love you. And I should have told you a thousand times before now.”
Her heart monitor speeds up, the electronic beeping marking the acceleration of her pulse. More tears fall, tracking silently down her pale cheeks. “You’re not here to kill me?”
The question guts me, splits me open, and leaves me raw. “No,” I whisper, brushing tears from her skin with my thumb. “Never. I could never hurt you. You are everything to me.Everything.”
She tries to speak again but winces, pain clearly washing over her.
“Don’t push yourself,” I tell her. “Rest. I’ll be here when you wake up. I promise.”
Her eyelids droop, the medication and exhaustion pulling her back toward sleep. But before she surrenders to it, she manages four words that remake my world. “I love you too.”
Simple words. Profound words. Words I never thought I’d hear directed at me, never thought I’d deserve.
As she drifts off, I keep hold of her hand, my thumb continuing its gentle circles on her skin. I talk to her through the night, my voice a low, steady presence in the darkened room.
I tell her about the first time I saw her at the bakery. I confess my fear when she ran from me, my terror when I saw her hit the pavement.
I tell her things I’ve never told anyone; about my childhood under Andrea’s brutal hand, about the boy I once was before the Russo name hardened me into the man I became.
She drifts in and out of consciousness, sometimes responding with a squeeze of her hand or a murmured word, sometimes simply listening in her sleep. The nurses come and go, checking vitals, adjusting medications, eyeing me with a mixture of wariness and sympathy.
As dawn approaches again, I make her a promise. “When you’re strong enough, we’ll go home. And you get to decide where that is, Mogliettina. It can be Cleveland, or somewhere new. Somewhere that belongs just to us. No ghosts, no debts, no pasts. Whatever you want.”
Chapter 45
