Page 253 of Ricardo

I reach for his hand, then stop above it.

“What if I hurt him?”

“You won’t.”

My fingers tremble as I touch his.

His hand is warm.

I did not realize I was afraid it would not be.

A sob slips out before I can catch it.

I wrap my fingers around his carefully, avoiding the IV, the tape, anything that looks breakable.

“Dante,” I whisper. “It’s Julia.”

Nothing.

Of course there is nothing.

He is unconscious. Sedated. Hurt.

Alive.

I force myself to remember the last word.

Ricardo’s hand remains in Dante’s hair.

I look at him.

His face is turned down toward his son, and for once there is no mask. No polish. No old-world elegance. No command.

Only a father standing beside a hospital bed, touching his son’s hair reverently.

“Dante,” Ricardo says. “You did well. You protected her. You survived. But your job is not done. Now you have to stay. Do you understand me? You stay.”

The monitor answers in beeps.

Dante does not.

Ricardo leans down and presses his mouth to Dante’s forehead.

“Resta con me, figlio mio,” he whispers against Dante’s skin. “Hai ancora troppa vita davanti. Non lasciarmi adesso.”

I close my eyes.

Fresh tears fall.

Stay with me, my son. You still have too much life ahead of you. Don’t leave me now.

Chapter Thirty Four

Ricardo

The waiting room feels different when we return.

Dante is still unconscious. He is still pale beneath hospital sheets, surrounded by machines, with a wound in his body that should never have been there.