I barely tighten my grip on the phone in time to keep from dropping it. I’m imagining this, right? This is some kind of side effect from the painkillers.
“Sorry, did I kill you? Are you still with me?”
I don’t know what to say. She doesn’t sound outraged. More like she thinks this is funny. I hope that’s a good sign. “You already knew?”
“Yeah,” she continues with an exasperated sigh. “Listen, it’s not my favorite thing in the world, but it is what it is. And yes, Dad knows I know.”
There I go again, almost dropping the damn phone. “How long has he known?”
“Only a few days.” I guess it slipped his mind. Not like I haven’t given him other things to worry about since the accident, but still. He could have at least thought to mention it. One less thing for me to feel terrible about.
“I’m sorry. I really am. You’re not mad at me, are you?”
“I’ve known for years you had a crush on him.” She laughs at my gasp. “Please. He’d walk into the room, and your face would go bright red, and you’d start looking anywhere but at him. That’s a crush. And I mean, I guess I can’t blame you, even if it’s a little weird. But I’m not mad. I want you to be happy.”
She pauses, and it’s a heavy sort of pause. “Are you happy?”
Am I? She deserves an honest answer, not something I fire off without thinking. It isn’t easy admitting to myself how rocky things have been, but I believe things are going to get better. Because at the heart of all of this is one fact I can’t get around or talk myself out of—he’s what I want. I can’t get him out of my soul and don’t want to. So there just has to be a way for everything to work out and for us to be happy without all these roadblocks and problems.
“I think I will be,” I decide. “I mean, honestly, worrying about how you would take it was a lot of the reason I was nervous and questioning myself. Now that I have you out of the way, yeah, I think there’s a lot more room to be happy.”
“Now that you have me out of the way,” she mutters. “Boy, you have a way with words.”
“You know what I mean. I couldn’t let myself be happy because I was so worried about what it might do to us.”
“I get it, and you have nothing to worry about from me. Just don’t ask me to take sides if you guys get into a fight. I don’t have it in me to get into that drama.”
“Understood.”
“I’m still coming home. I’ll have Dad arrange for the jet, and I’ll let you know, so you’re not, you know, humping each other when I get there.”
“And I’m the one who has a way with words?” It’s so nice to laugh with her for the first time in weeks. I feel a weight lifting off my heart.
A soft knock at the door gets my attention a moment before Gianni appears. His brows draw together, but I shake my head with a smile to ease his mind.
“I better let you go so you can rest,” she says. “I’ll see you soon. Love you.”
“Love you, too.” And once the call is over, I rest my head against the mountain of pillows at my back and release a deep breath. With it goes all the guilt and worries that have weighed me down for weeks.
“Everything all right? I figured she would call you right away once I told her.” Gianni sits beside me on the bed and takes the hand resting at my side. I love the way his calloused fingers feel against my skin.
“You didn’t tell me she knew about us.”
He looks almost sheepish, which I didn’t know was possible. Not for him. “It slipped my mind. I had other things to worry about, like your health. How are you feeling?”
“Better, now that I know I didn’t lose my best friend.”
“You have no idea how glad that makes me.”
But he doesn’t sound so glad. In fact, his voice is heavy, almost like he’s in pain.
“What’s wrong?” I turn my hand over so I can wind my fingers through his. He looks worried, with deep lines etched across his forehead and over the bridge of his nose.
The corners of his mouth tug downward. “You should get some rest. We’ll talk about it later.”
His dismissal only makes me sit up. “Here’s one thing you need to know about me. There is no chance of me getting any rest after hearing you say that. Besides, I’ve been resting for days.”
It was supposed to be a joke to make him laugh, or at least smile. But all he does is grimace, and his worry lines deepen. “I’ve been wrestling with myself, deciding whether to tell you.”
“Tell me what? Did something terrible happen? I already know Tatiana’s okay because I talked to her.” I can’t imagine what else it might be.
“I’m telling you this because I know the way you think, and I know you would hate to find out after the fact.”
Is it my imagination, or is it suddenly colder in here? That must be where the goosebumps are coming from. “Find out what?” And why am I so full of dread now? You don’t start off a story the way he just did unless there’s something ugly coming.
“It has to do with the accident.”
Yup, there it is. The pit in my stomach right on schedule. Now I wish I had never asked if there was something wrong.
But I’m not a child. And I can’t run away from what happened.
“I can handle it. Whatever it is.”
He doesn’t look convinced. His frown only deepens before he heaves a sigh. “I had Roger reach out to the businesses on that block in case any of them had security cameras pointed toward the street. A few of them do, and they let him look at the footage. He was able to get a clear look at the plate on one of the cameras.”
“Did he… see the accident?” I don’t know why the thought makes my heart pound. It’s unnerving knowing there is footage of me coming close to being killed, but a twisted part of me wants to see it. Because I survived.
“No,” he murmurs, but the way he averts his eyes makes me wonder if he’s telling the truth. “That’s not the point, anyway. We found the name the vehicle is registered under.”
He stares down at our clasped hands, and something in my head clicks into place. “It wasn’t an accident, was it?”
Right away, his head snaps up, his eyes widening. “What makes you say that?”
“Because the way you’re making it sound. It’s a name you recognized, or one I would recognize. Right? And if it’s somebody I know, that means it wasn’t an accident. They deliberately hit me. It’s okay,” I insist when he grimaces. “I can handle it. Because you’re here with me. And I’m safe.”
With his free hand, he reaches out and cups my cheek. I lean into his touch. It’s my salvation. I couldn’t handle any of this without him. “You’re right. It was someone you know.”
Which tells me it could only have been one person. The only person from my life, besides his daughter, whose name he’s familiar with. Even though I want to turn away from the idea, it makes too much sense.
“Tell me,” I whisper, bracing myself.
“It was Luciano. I’m sorry. I really am.”
I close my eyes, forcing myself to accept. “Are you going to kill him?”
His grip on my hand tightens. “What makes you ask that?”
“Let’s skip the pretending.” I say it with as much affection as I can, so I don’t hurt his feelings. “I know that’s what you want to do because I know you.”
“You want to hear the truth?” I open my eyes and nod slowly, even though I dread hearing it come from his lips. “All that’s been in my head since we got the confirmation is the different ways I could extend his life as long as possible while making him wish I would take mercy and kill him quickly.”
He leans in, staring intensely. Looking into my soul, it seems. “But that wouldn’t be fair to you. You’re the person he hit, which means you get to decide.”
I can’t believe I’m hearing this. “You want me to decide if you kill him?”
“You’re the only one with the right to make that decision.”
I wish I could believe he was joking, but I know better.
A man’s life is in my hands—when he could have ended my life easily. When he has already robbed me of five years.
“There’s one more thing,” he murmurs. “From the footage, it looks like he sped up halfway down the block.”
Yes, he did. I remember now how the engine revved like he was picking up speed.
It was deliberate. Luciano deliberately hit me. He tried to kill me.
But is that worth a death sentence?