“The truth is,” he says quietly, “I learned how to do this from my father. Upper level first aid is a good skill to have when your family is involved in criminal activity. You never know when someone’s going to get shot or stabbed. So. I stitched up my first bullet wound when I was fifteen.”
My eyes are wide. “Your dad?”
“One of his associates. The hospital wasn’t an option. He healed up fine. You will, too.”
“Jesus. That’s a lot to put on a teenage kid,” I murmur. “What a life.”
He snorts and then picks up a roll of cotton gauze, which he starts wrapping around my foot and securing with medical tape.
“It’s not like I had a choice,” he says. “I mean…you’re born into what you’re born into. I might’ve run away if it weren’t for my brothers, but we had to stick together. Especially after we lost our mom and Liliana. There was no love lost between us and our dad, but at least we had each other.”
For a moment, I say nothing. This is the most open and vulnerable Armani has ever been around me, and I can only hope he says more, keeps showing me this tender, hidden side of himself.
Despite the fact that I was convinced he was going to kill me on this trip, he honestly doesn’t seem to be in a hurry about it. Maybe there’s time for me yet. And maybe…maybe the tiny sliver of him that feels something for me can be made to grow. There was no mistaking the look on his face when he scooped me up of the beach and carried me here. He was concerned. He was gentle. Hecares.
Even if he won’t admit it.
Finally, I gently say, “I’m sorry. There wasn’t a lot of love in my house growing up, either. But that doesn’t decide your fate. It’s okay to want more than what you’ve been given.”
I reach over and cup his face, but he immediately pulls back and clears his throat.
“All done,” he says gruffly, his eyes barely meeting mine.
With that, he sets down the gauze and walks out.
But now I’m certain of it. He does care about me. More deeply than I ever realized.
And it scares the hell out of him.
14
CANDI
Since I can’t getmy stitches wet, I have to skip the shower and take a long, luxurious bath instead. Hardly a punishment, especially once I’ve got the tub loaded with lavender bath salts and mountains of bubbles.
As I ease myself down into the hot water, I let out a content little sigh. Nowthisis what I call honeymoon-worthy. My injured foot is firmly propped on a towel draped over the edge of the tub, the rest of my body relaxing amidst the suds. I wash my hair quickly, put in a leave-in conditioner, and then scrub myself from head to toe. Well, with the exception of the sole of my foot. Then I close my eyes and allow my thoughts to drift. But all I can I think about is the way Armani acted at dinner.
Over the course of the meal, he played the part of his cold, distant, stoic self, but for the first time in our relationship, his attitude didn’t make me feel discouraged. In fact, it was the exact opposite.
Because I knew his behavior had nothing to do with me. Instead, it was apparent that he was still deeply uncomfortable about what had happened in the kitchen earlier—when he’d revealed more about himself and his troubled childhood than he’d intended. That vulnerability had wounded him. He was in uncharted waters, having exposed himself like that to me. The weak spot in his armor had been revealed.
Now that I’ve seen the hurt little boy inside Armani, I understand him so much better. Unlike the rest of the world, I’ve finally gotten a glimpse of the man behind the intimidation, the cruelty, the guns, the tattoos. Beneath all that is a son who longs for so much more from his father than a legacy of tyranny and violence. How can I not feel tender toward him?
I’m not saying the Big Bad Wolf has been tamed, but this definitely shifts my perceptions.
It reminds me of a conversation I had with Frankie, back when we were still friends, when she tried to tell me that the Bellanti brothers were the kind of men who’d put you through hell before they let their walls down. She said it was because of their rough childhood that they had so many defenses. Which, yes, makes total sense. She also said…that sticking it out with a Bellanti was worth the effort.
Maybe she was right all along.
I doubted her words at the time, but now I’m not so sure.
The water is starting to cool, so I carefully get out of the tub and dry off. Then I wrap up in the fluffy spa robe I’ve been using and limp back to the bedroom to find some pajamas.
I’ve just tossed the robe over a chair and slipped into a silky green chemise when the door opens and Armani walks in. Before I can say a word, he’s crossed the room in a few strides and stopped in front of me. His expression is so intense that I just stand there, expecting some kind of bad news.
But what comes out of his mouth is, “I need you.”
He doesn’t even have to explain. Because I immediately realize that this is his way of asking for more—just like I told him it was okay to do when we were in the kitchen earlier. And I meant it.
