Page 130 of With this Ring

As if needing to see for herself, her mother brushed hair back from Sasha’s face and studied her carefully.

In the doorway, she saw her father.

The weight of his worry made his shoulders roll forward, and she experienced another wave of regret.

Unlike her mother, he didn’t rush in, but he took in everything—the IV in her arm, the hospital gown she hated, the ugly bruise blooming along her forearm.

“Che diavolo è successo?”His voice was low, gruff with the kind of emotion he didn’t show easily as he softly demanded to know what had happened. “You should have called us sooner.”

For their sakes, Sasha forced a small, tired grin. “I’ve been a little busy.”

“Madonna santa!”Her mother scowled. “Don’t joke about this.”

“I’m sorry.” Instantly, she was contrite.

In their situation, she’d be scared, too. And, really, she should have known better.

This was how things seemed to go in their family.

Her mother led with emotion, and her father was always more reserved, stoic, keeping his voice even, never overreacting, pretending he had everything under control.

She landed somewhere in the middle, balancing between the two, keeping it together because she didn’t know how to do anything else. Her older sister was much more like her mother—dramatic, always going to the worst-case scenario.

Had it always been this way? Or had that been a result of that night that changed all of their lives?

The moment her father’s focus shifted, she knew it.

His gaze landed on her wrapped ankle, then lifted to meet her eyes. “Sprained?”

She nodded. “And some bruised ribs. I’m fine.”

“You’re in a hospital bed, Sasha.”

“Would’ve walked it off, but they frowned on that.”

His mouth pressed into a tight line, but it wasn’t from amusement.

Her mother sighed, brushing a hand lightly over Sasha’s forehead before her fingers trailed down her arm, landing just above the IV tape. “They said you weren’t shot,” she murmured, “but… You were in the middle of it, weren’t you? That story on the news this morning… The shooting.”

Sasha exhaled, closing her eyes for a beat. “Yes. I was there, Mom.”

“At least two dead.”

“I’m afraid so.”

Before they could ask any more questions, Adriana rushed in, still wearing her pajamas with whimsical coffee cups on the pant legs.

“God, Sash! You’ve done it this time.” She rushed over, her bunny slippers making no sound on the floor. “What happened?” she asked, standing way back from their parents,as if afraid that whatever was happening to Sasha might be contagious.

“What do the doctors say?” her mother asked.

“That I can go home today.” If she hadn’t passed out, she wouldn’t be in here to begin with.

“So what happened?” Adriana demanded.

In response, Sasha offered only vague details. “I was working on a case where the wife thought her husband was cheating—”

“Don’t they all?” Adriana interrupted.

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