I open my mouth to ask what she means, but nothing comes out. The question never makes it past my throat.
Then pain detonates, ripping through me all at once. I drop to my knees, clutching my chest, breath coming in shallow, useless gasps. My vision swims.
Why am I on the ground? Where’s the cage?
When I look up, Adora is standing in front of me, smiling.
I try to speak again, panic clawing its way up my spine. But a blinding white light crashes down, swallowing everything. Sound fractures. Echoes ring in my ears, distant and warped, like someone calling my name from the far end of a tunnel. They blur together with the sound of my violin, distorted and muffled.
When I manage to open my eyes again, agony greets me like an old friend.
Everything hurts.
A different Adora stands over me now, her face twisted in panic, tears streaking down her cheeks.
Why is she crying?
What the fuck did I do?
I try to lift my arm, to wipe the tears from her face, to fix whatever I broke, but my body doesn’t answer. Not a single muscle twitches.
“It—Italy,” I rasp, the word grinding out of my throat like sand mixed with sawdust. My tongue feels too heavy. My mouth barely works. “You. Me. Italy.”
I cling to the words like they’re a lifeline. Like if she can just hear me say them, I won’t disappear again.
37. Rules
Adora
Would you be okay if you never saw him again?
I once asked Temperance that question when she didn’t know what to do about Bones. I never thought to ask it of myself.
So I stayed in limbo, ready to reject him, but also not ready to let him go. I had good reasons, I know I did. I couldn’t trust him again. And yet I still let him crawl under my skin, little by little, until, before I knew it, he was swimming inside my veins again. Just like before.
Unfortunately for me, life forced that stupid question down my throat and then ripped the answer out of my screaming lungs.
Suddenly, nothing mattered anymore.
And now it matters again because he’s finally awake.
I can look into his eyes, hear his voice, get lost in that crooked smile of his. And above all, I can finally accept the fact that he did the impossible — he ignited the spark of trust back inside me.
“Are you okay, adorable?” His raspy voice pulls me back to the present.
It’s late now. He fully woke up about an hour ago, after drifting in and out of consciousness for a while. But we didn’t really get a chance to talk. Too many people wanted to be here for him. Hearing Mama call a whole bearded, tattooed, full-grown man ‘pumpkin’ is a memory that will forever remain burned in my mind. I’ll never let him hear the end of it.
“Yeah. I’m just happy the doctor said everything seems fine,” I murmur, taking his hand in mine. “If there’d been any more bad news, I swear my heart was ready to call it quits.”
His fingers flex against mine before he speaks.
“Not possible,” he says, a weak smile dancing at the corner of his lips. “Your heart is too strong for that.” His brows furrow. “Now tell me the truth — how have you been holding up?”
I raise my chin and look down at him like I have no idea what he’s talking about. “I’ve been holding up just fine. Why wouldn’t I?”
His eyes narrow, pinning me in place, calling my bullshit out without a word. My shoulders slump.
“The first days were really bad, but I powered through,” I whisper. “I have a lot of friends now. And a cat. They all helped me take it one day at a time.” I glare at him, swallowing the tears climbing up my throat. “It was stupid of you. Stepping in front of me like that. You should’ve run. Pushed me away. Yelled. Anything else.”
