“It will heal, darling. Dr. Flemons says it will hardly leave a scar, and even if it does, he can fix that too.”
“Do you believe him?”
Cassius gives me a reproachful look. “Of course, I believe him. He’s a plastic surgeon to the stars. A sorcerer with a scalpel. And I’d like you to avoid looking at it for as long as possible. I don’t want you spiraling. Maintaining a positive attitude is paramount to your recovery.”
“What about the other thing?”
“What other thing?” he asks, eyes narrowed quizzically.
I motion him closer. He leans in so that I can whisper, “Am I going to hell?” My father would certainly say so, but he believed that even before I left home.
Cassius sits up and chuckles, petting my arm. “Adam, you say the strangest things sometimes. You’re the victim here, remember? Elliot did you a terrible disservice. Put those thoughts of eternal damnation out of your head. This is L.A., after all, not Pigeon Forge. We’ve already sold our souls to the devil. It’s practically a prerequisite of the zip code. And what have I told you before about beautiful people?”
“Worrying gives them wrinkles.”
“That’s right.” He draws one hand down my stomach. “And terrible indigestion.”
“Do you still think I’m beautiful?”
“Oh yes, Adam.Absolutely.One tiny silver shadow on the far side of your face won’t change that, I promise. And as far as your career goes, I can only see this as an advantage.Everyoneis talking about you. Why, the whole town is abuzz. Damien is working overtime as we speak.”
Damien Bancroft is my publicist. We’ve only met twice, but according to Cassius, he’s a real miracle-worker when it comes to “owning the narrative.” God, I hope so.
“Thank you for saving me back there.” I stare at him intently. “You know what I mean.”
He shrugs like it’s nothing, but we both know it’s not. “As I’ve told you before, there’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do to keep you safe.”
“Because you love me?”
He smiles softly and strokes my ruined face. “If this doesn’t prove my love for you, Adam, I fear nothing will.”
Chapter26
Cassius
While Adam dozes, Isaac leaves to procure us something edible for lunch, and I pace the short hallway outside Adam’s hospital room, going over the minutiae of all that’s transpired and making sure there are no loose ends. I’m so focused on my musing that I don’t notice Lucia stroll up with a burdensome vase of flowers until I detect her perfume.
“Lucia,” I greet her with kisses to both cheeks and take the flowers from her arms. “What a lovely arrangement.”
“You look like shit,” she says flatly.
“Yes, thank you for noticing. How very thoughtful of you to point it out. Adam is resting at the moment, but I will put these inside.”
I go into the room to find my sweet angel still sleeping peacefully, lying with his good cheek pressed against the pillow and mouth part-way open. The scar will not reach those heavenly lips. I set the vase on a shelf by the window, taking the time to pluck off a few wilting petals, then return to the hallway, shutting the door behind me. I’m relieved that Adam is indisposed. He might pass the police’s inquisition, but Lucia’s? Doubtful.
“So, what the hell happened?” Lucia asks, never one to mince words. I lead her to a semi-private alcove to the side of the waiting room where there are two industrial-looking seats. I attempt to sit down without actually touching anything. I abhor hospitals for obvious reasons. I relay to Lucia the events of the day before, the same story that the press is running with and hopefully the LAPD too.
“You killed him with a tripod?” she asks. Her disbelief couldn’t be more apparent.
“It was an accident.”
“Cash, I’ve never seen you swing a bat in your life.”
“It wasn’t a bat.”
“But you know who is good at swinging bats?” she muses, tapping her chin with one acrylic nail. “Adam.”
“Yes, he’s the one who showed me how. At the batting cages.”
