Page 68 of Mafia Fire

“Trust me. Please.” He kisses me in a way that’s meant to be reassuring but even his perfect lips can’t quiet the storm brewing in my mind.

There’s a knock at the door. “Go away,” he calls.

I take the opportunity to hop up from his lap, to have a moment away from him and clear my head. “It’s fine. I’ll get it.” I smooth down my shirt and my tangled hair as I go to the door.

He grabs my hand as I go, tugging me back to him. “Kylie, don’t use this as an excuse to build your wall back up. Please.”

He’s pleaded with me over both of his last requests. He’s fearful I’ll let Kat come between us. I try to give him a smile of reassurance but I’m afraid it probably looks more like a grimace.

“Don’t be silly,” I say, my voice as tight as leather spread over the top of a drum. “I’m fine.”

His brow knits together as he tries to read me.

I work my hand out of his. “I’ve got to get the door.”

Booker stands on the stoop, the usually playful light in his eyes replaced by a flash of fear, his hand over his heart. “Kylie. Thank God I’ve found you. You’ve got to come with me. It’s Nonna.”

“Nonna?” My heart sinks in my chest.

He nods. “Yes, I’m so sorry. I went to wake her from her afternoon nap, and I couldn’t rouse her. She’s breathing just fine and when I took her pulse, it seemed normal but still, I’ve called a doctor in to take her to the hospital and then came straight here to get you.”

Cannon appears over my shoulder. “Has anything like this happened before?” he asks.

“No, no.” I shake my head. “Nonna’s been lucky. She really hasn’t had any health issues before.” I grab my sweatshirt from its hook on the wall, no time to even shower. “Take me to her, Booker, please.”

“Of course.”

As I pass through the kitchen of the spotless guesthouse, I notice the fresh flowers I ordered sitting in the center of the kitchen table. Back in her room Nonna lies on her bed, completely still, the color gone from her face, a sheen of perspiration covering her forehead. The doctor sits beside her, a stethoscope pressed to her chest.

I hover over her, waiting for him to finish. “Oh, Nonna.”

Her eyelids flutter open at the sound of my voice. “Is that my Kylie?”

“You’re awake!” I move past the doctor, excusing myself, and take her hand in mine. “How do you feel?”

“Just fine. So I slept a little late. Why all the fuss?”

“Nonna, Booker couldn’t wake you.” I stare up at the doctor, looking for answers.

The doctor stands from his chair. “Pleasure to meet you both.”

“Same, thank you for coming. What’s wrong? Do you know?”

“Everything looks good, strong heartbeat, good breaths. We will go to the hospital and run a few tests. I’ll have more answers for you at that time.”

Nonna frowns with disapproval. “I hate hospitals.”

Booker steps in. “I’ll go with you. We’ll bring a deck of cards to pass the time.”

Cannon wraps his arm around my shoulders. “I’ll drive you behind the ambulance.”

“Thank you, Booker. Thank you, Cannon.” I think of what would have happened had Nonna and I been on our own with no support, and the thought is so jarring, I have to push it away. “Let’s go.”

Cannon doesn’t leave my side for a single moment at the hospital. They take Nonna away, running tests. When they’re done, they settle her into a bed to observe her for the evening. I sleep with my head against Cannon’s chest, his arm wrapped around my shoulders.

In the morning, we’re visited by the doctors, who found nothing wrong with Nonna with the exception of a little low blood sugar.

“One more question, though,” the doctor says. “What about alcohol consumption?”

---