He yawns. “If you could cut this fucking metal out of my leg that would be cool.”
“I think you’re better off waiting for a professional.”
Another yawn. “In that case, I think I’ll take a nap.”
Anxious to get back to Julian, I’m in the hallway when Angelo calls my name. I pop my head back into the library.
There’s now a funny look on his face. “I’m sorry,” he says.
I’m not sure these words have ever come out of his mouth before. There could be a lot of meanings behind the sentiment. He might mean he’s sorry for going along with our grandfather’s plan to use me as a pawn. He might be apologizing for all the years when our relationship was far from friendly.
But I think he’s saying he’s sorry that I saw Gabriel at his worst. And he’s sorry that I’ve lost my twin.
“Me too,” I say because he has also lost a brother.
There’s already been so much loss tonight. I cannot yet bear the idea the losses might not be finished with us.
Julian is just walking out of his father’s study. The worry lines in his forehead smooth out when he sees me coming.
“Where did you go?” he asks, pulling me in for a hug.
I lean into his strong body, eager to feel his warmth and inhale his scent. “Just checking on Angelo.” I nestle my face in the hollow beneath his neck. “How is your father?”
His hands feel so good as they rub my back. He presses his face into my hair and I feel his breath shudder.
“He can’t see, baby,” Julian whispers and the anguish in his voice puts a new crack in my terribly bruised heart.
I lean my head back and stare into my husband’s red, tormented eyes. I place a soft kiss on his lips because it’s the best and only comfort I have to offer. Julian keeps his arm around me as we return to the room.
Sonny is doing his best to lighten the mood with his colorful wisecracks but soon the sight of his beloved boss and mentor fading away before his eyes is too much for him to handle. With tears in his eyes, he mumbles something about checking on his men and hastily leaves the room.
Grace brings a tray of coffee mugs and then checks on Cass’s vital signs. His breathing has become more tortured and he keeps asking for his boys despite being repeatedly assured they are all here.
“I called the hospital,” Grace says. “The weather has improved so the medevac will be able to take off shortly.”
She tries to sound upbeat but no one in this room is fooled. The condition of the Tempesta patriarch is desperate.
“Cecilia,” rasps the voice of my father-in-law. “She’s in the safe room.”
“I’m right here,” I assure him and Julian pushes a chair over so I can sit by his side.
Dried blood is now matted and caked over the head wound. Grace said there’s not much doubt his skull is badly fractured. His dark eyes are feverish and unfocused. The damage to his brain caused by the blow to the back of his head might have always been too severe to repair but every minute the snow keeps the medevac away, his fate inches toward being sealed.
I touch his shoulder, which is covered by a quilt checkered with pictures of running horses. Peeling back the edge of the blanket, I search for his large hand. He doesn’t resist when I guide his palm to my belly.
“Your grandbabies,” I say. As if on cue, there’s a flurry of activity within as the twins flex their limbs.
His mouth stretches into a smile of wonder. “Sometimes I’d spend so long listening to our baby kick that I’d fall asleep with my cheek on her stomach. It was the same with all four of them.”
This short speech is far more than he’s said since he woke up after being knocked unconscious. I don’t know if this is a good sign or not. But his sons are overwhelmed by this rare glimpse into the life their parents once shared.
Tye breaks down and buries his face in his hands. Getty leans his forehead against the window and says nothing. Fort sinks down on the end of the sofa by his father’s feet with his hat in his lap and his face wilted with sorrow.
And Julian takes a knee right beside me and covers his father’s hand with his own. Their hands are so similar. Big and calloused and powerful.
The smile disappears from Cass’s face. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”
“You didn’t,” I assure him. “You were protecting me.”
