Page 108 of Hostile Love
My husband already bought our children dirt bikes and matching helmets, claiming they’d be racers as soon as they’re out of diapers.
But now they’ve arrived looking all tiny, vulnerable, and fragile. I don’t know if I could handle my nerves when they zoom off down a dirt track.
I guess I’d have to go everywhere with them.
Given the shit relationship André and I had with our own fathers, he deserves the opportunity to break the cycle and show our wee ones how a real father treats his kids.
He assured me that being a devoted father came before ruling Miami drug gangs and our involvement in the Sicilian mafia.
And now he’s incapacitated in a hospital bed with tubes and wires everywhere.
The knots in my stomach tighten and that nauseating wave of dread hits me again.
I close my eyes momentarily and exhale a long sigh.
What happens if there’s lifelong damage to his insides…if he wakes up traumatized by his injuries, and can’t deal with the painful agony he’s in?
I shake my head. He’s stronger than that. I know him. But the surgeons can’t tell me how his body would respond to the repair work.
All we can do is wait for him to open his eyes. Those dark, hungry eyes that I’ve had to live without for too many hours.
I need my husband's arms around me.
And my children need to learn the sound of their father’s voice.
I swallow the lump in my throat and sit forward, burying my face in my hands. Tears sting my eyes and my stomach rumbles from not being able to eat.
God, I’m a mess.
Yet there’s only so long I can put on a brave face without my mask cracking.
Blowing out, I feel the sharp tug in my heart. The need to be where he is too.
I suck in a tattered breath and decide it’s time to leave the twins for another few hours and return to their father’s side.
A little spark of excitement catches me off guard. It won’t be long now.
I clear my throat and stand. My legs ache and my back cracks when I slowly straighten.
I’m still healing too. The cesarean section wound pinches a little. I ignore the uncomfortable sensation as I look down at my son and daughter.
My heart swells.
The internal war between staying and leaving freezes me to the spot.
I’ve pretty much lost track of the days and hours we’ve been in this hospital.
After the latest attack, both Carina and India were swept away by their men.
The girls were hesitant to leave, but I’d insisted. Tomás and Giovanni wore the stress of the day's events on their faces.
I know that feeling all too well. It was a close call and Tomás went deadly silent afterwards. I get the impression he’s rethinking having a big wedding.
Then again, when Souzas fall, they always rise.
None of us knows what that man is planning to do next. Except for Carina.
And I’d sure as hell hate to see the state of the world if anything bad happens to her.
