Page 134 of Falling Into Forever
“Fine? You’re fine? You were shot in the chest four weeks ago, Dante. That is not fine. That’s near death. That’s four days I thought you were gone. Four weeks is not enough time and—”
“Saylor.”
I hate when he uses that tone on me. The one my body responds to even when my mind wants to stay angry.
“What?” I growl.
“Come here,” he says gently, then lowers himself to the sofa and places the laptop he was holding onto the coffee table.
I hate this house. We’re still in LA because his doctors didn’t think it was safe for him to fly with a collapsed lung—not to mention the bullet they had to dig out of his heart. Well, maybe not his heart, but close e-damn-nough.
“Come here.” He beckons again, and this time I do. I march to the sofa with my arms crossed, my brows furrowed, and my lips pursed.
His laugh makes me angrier.
“This isn’t funny, Dante. You almost died.”
He nods, and his face falls solemn for half a second. “Almost, sweetheart, but I didn’t. I’m here. I’m doing physical therapy, respiratory therapy, and all the other therapies you signed me up for. You were terrified, Sayls. I get that, but you need to remember that I’m going to be fine.”
“I almost lost you.” My lip trembles, and I jut it out in protest.
This is a conversation that won’t end because I can’t seem to let it go. I fixate on the what-ifs, and every time I see the scar healing on his chest, marring his skin, my body instantly falls into panic mode.
“But you didn’t because I promised you I was coming back. It will take more than a stupid bullet hole to keep me from you.”
I drop carefully onto the sofa beside him, and he wraps his arm around my shoulder. I try not to lean on him too much, but he’s not having it. He tugs me into his side until there’s not an inch of space between us.
“I can’t wait to go home,” I mutter as a chill tickles my spine. “I hate it here.”
“Oh, Sayls. We’ll go home as soon as we can.”
Dante was released from the hospital last week, and we came back to his house that was already mostly packed up, but I refused to come here alone. The blood had been cleaned from the bedroom, but I couldn’t do it, and I still won’t step foot in that room.
“Trent called again,” Dante says, holding me a bit tighter because every other time he’s told me that Trent called, I stalked away from the room.
Someone somewhere dropped the ball, and Trent is out on bail. I’ve barely slept since we got the call.
I stay silent.
“I answered this time,” he says gently, and my body goes rigor mortis still. Even my thoughts are morbid these days.
“He said he’s giving Lena sole custody—or at least he’s filling out the paperwork.”
I focus on my breathing, and he tucks my hair behind my ear, but I bury my face deeper into his chest to hide my tears.
I’ve only felt hate this powerful one other time, and it was for Blake’s father. It’s a hate that burrows into your heart and will never let go. There will never be a second chance for Trent with me.
Dante sighs, then rubs my back in slow circles. “He’s trying to get help but admits he might be a lost cause. He doesn’t have the will to fight, and it’s…”
“It’s hurting you that you can’t fix it for him.”
“Yes,” he says in a throaty voice. “If he keeps going the way he is, he won’t live to see forty. But I can’t allow him to ruin those I love and I—I told him so.”
“What did he say?” I’m almost scared of the answer.
“He said—goodbye.”
“Do you think…”
