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My little boy.
He really was my boy already. Beth was right. DNA didn’t fucking matter.
In the span of the fifteen minutes it took me to go get coffee and breakfast, I’d gone from calm, to pissed off, and back to calm. People with real mood swings must be fucking exhausted all the time.
I saw Gia’s foot tapping on the floor as I approached the curtain around my father’s bed in ICU. I smiled to myself knowing she did that whenever she was anxious. My girl was anxious for food.
But the smile ripped from my face when I pulled back the curtain and saw Gia wasn’t alone. Elliott was standing two feet away from her.
The burn of hatred heated my face. I wanted to beat the crap out of him more than I wanted anything else in the world at the moment. A stare-off ensued. I didn’t give a flying fuck that he looked like he hadn’t slept a wink in two days or that we were standing in front of a man he loved who was on his deathbed. My heart couldn’t even consider those things; all it knew was that he was standing two fucking feet away from Gia—Gia, whom he’d been inside of—and I was about to explode.
My fist opened and closed, clenching at my side. I felt like a raging bull and, to me, Elliott was painted head to toe in the color red. I took a step toward him, but then something stopped me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Gia. She was white as a ghost and trembling in her chair.
Without giving my brother another thought, I went to her. I dropped the bag and took both her hands. “You okay?”
She nodded fast. Her hands stopped shaking inside mine. I looked down at them and then back to her. “You sure?”
“Yeah. Why don’t I go wait in the waiting room and give you two a minute?”
“I’ll walk you.” Still ignoring my brother, I grabbed the breakfast bag, wrapped my arm tight around Gia’s shoulder, and escorted her to the visitors’ lounge. I knelt at her feet once we were there. “Did he say anything to you?”
“No. I just got nervous when he showed up.”
I wasn’t sure if she was telling the truth. My gut thought she might be lying, and Elliott had said something to her. Gia just didn’t want me to make a scene. But right now, it didn’t matter. As long as Gia was okay.
“He didn’t touch you?”
“No! Not even a handshake.”
I looked her over and let out a deep breath. “Fine. But you look exhausted.”
“Thanks.”
I brushed her hair from her face and kissed her forehead. “Eat. Your food is probably half cold to begin with. I’ll go back in and deal with Satan while you feed our boy.”
She gave me a soft smile. “Okay. But don’t do anything to get yourself arrested. Because my father would probably show up here from the precinct in three minutes, and he’d kick your ass for leaving me stranded in the City.”
My lip twitched. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Promise me?”
“Fine.”
On my way back to ICU, I looked over my shoulder and saw Gia already digging into the bag. I watched her lick her lips and tear into the Styrofoam containers and realized in that moment that nothing else mattered. Not even my asshole brother. So long as I could put that smile on Gia’s face.
And then it hit me.
Something that Oak, of all people, had said to me.
“You have to figure out whether your love for Gia is stronger than your hate for your brother.”
For the first time, I started to believe it just might be.“Your opinion doesn’t fucking matter.”
I shook my head at my brother. The doctor had just walked out from ICU after giving me and Elliott an update on Edward’s condition. He’d told us the morning scans had shown the bleeding had stopped, but they needed to keep him in a coma until the swelling in his head could go down. He wasn’t out of the woods yet, but he’d taken a step in the right direction.
“The doctor asked us for our opinions,” I said through clenched teeth.
“No one cares what you think. My father needs educated decision making. Did you even graduate from high school?”
“Let’s not have this discussion near Edward. There’s a possibility that he can hear every word that we say, and the last thing he needs is to hear us at each other’s throats.” I wanted to be at my brother’s throat—with my hand crushing his windpipe—but I’d promised Gia not to get in trouble.
Elliott started to go off again, when Lauren suddenly walked into the curtained area.
“You made it.” She smiled at Elliott. What the fuck did she see in him?
My brother’s entire demeanor changed. A mask slid over his face, covering the contorted anger he wore for me. “Sweetheart. I’m so glad you’re here,” he said. I watched his entire act. Elliott morphed into the dutiful husband—hugging his wife like he’d missed her and kissing her on the cheek with a mouth that had undoubtedly been buried in some skank’s pussy while he was down in Florida.
