Page 27 of Tesoro: Mayhem Makers

“Nothing against the hospital, just not a big fan of one of its alumni.”

A laugh bubbles from my chest as I run the towel over his skin, “Maybe I could stand in front of the hospital and take a selfie, send it to Dr. Raymond.”

But then he’d know where I was. Another shiver blankets my skin as I think of how quickly Brady would find out. He knows everything that happens in the hospital, every tiny detail. I assumed it was how he kept his job, considering all the rules he broke and still remained. Blackmail is a powerful thing if you’re the one holding the cards.

“How’s Angelo?”

A gasp leaves my throat, my heart hammering in my chest in reaction to Dante slipping inside the door. The man is a walking wet dream, and as much as I need to remind myself he is technically my boss, I can’t help imagining what it would be like to take him for a ride.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He chuckles, the sound going straight to my core. “I thought you heard me walk down the hall.”

Shaking my head, I discard the washcloth, “It’s fine. I was focused on Angelo, that’s all.”

“I heard.” He snickers, covering up the laugh by coughing into his fist. “I mean, what made you decide to become a doctor?”

Drying my hands, “Are you sure you want to hear this? It’s quite boring.”

Dante takes a seat in the chair beside the bed, resting his feet along the edge. “Let me be the judge of that,” he motions for me to have a seat in the chair opposite him.

Clearing my throat, I take a seat, rubbing my hands up and down my jeans. “My nona was the neighborhood doctor. Virtually every day someone would knock at the door with this ailment or another.”

“And you wanted to be like her,” Dante added, boredom lacing in his tone.

“Good assumption.” I toss back, “Perhaps you can tell me the rest instead.”

Tipping his head back in laughter, Dante adjusts in his seat before motioning for me to continue.

“I was bounced around several foster homes until I was four. Nona, who in addition to being the neighborhood doctor was also everyone’s grandmother, took me in when the last house I lived in burned to the ground. She helped me trace my family, where I learned my mother was thirteen when she gave birth to me. Candy, my birth mother, tried to raise me, but she was an alcoholic and chose the bottle over me. I was six when the police found me practically starved to death in a storm drain beside Candy who was passed out. Luckily, the cop who found me knew Nona and brought me to her.”

Picking at a piece of imaginary lint on my jeans, I keep my eyes downcast, the memory was as fresh as the night it happened.

“I worried for a long time every knock at the door was the state coming to take me away. Nona said it wouldn’t happen, but I…” Emotion coats my words, tears clouding my vision.

Dante was out of his seat and kneeling between my legs, his fingers rubbing gentle circles on my back. “Nona’s are the best,” Dante admits with a smile.

“When I was seventeen, my nono got sick, too sick for nona to fix him. He died from cancer six months later. After the funeral, I swore I would go to school and study to find a cure so cancer wouldn't take the life of anyone else we loved.”

Shifting my gaze from Dante’s deep eyes to Angelo’s prone body. “She told me death was a natural part of life, that I should give comfort to the sick and hold the hand of those who are dying.”

Pulling my attention back to Dante, “She died the day after I graduated college. Making me swear I would take her and nono’s ashes back to Italy where they were from.”

Slamming my eyes shut, I hadn’t meant to tell him the latter, a secret I’ve kept for years. “I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to share that part.”

“Why?

“Because the last person I admitted that to was my best friend Andi, and she hates me now.”

Chapter

Twenty

DANTE

Reaching up, I wipe a tear from Kate’s face with my thumb. She’d shown such vulnerability while allowing me a glimpse into her world, it was only fair I do the same.

“You and I aren’t that different, you know.” Moving back to my seat against my better judgement, I leaned my arms on my thoughts, locking gazes with hers.

“My father died in a foundry accident where he’d worked since the day he turned sixteen. He met my mother when he was getting lunch at the company food truck. They married young and Angelo was born before they celebrated their first anniversary. I came along eleven months later.”

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