“Hello, everyone. We’ve got a room upstairs for Miss Jade now, if you’ll all just follow us.” The nurse's cheerful tone interrupts and allows me to breathe again. She assists me into a wheelchair, pushing me as Vito grabs my bag of belongings, which I suspect are now garbage.
I don’t see anyone from Blue Heights in any of the other rooms as we make our way upstairs, and that worries me. Hopefully, I wasn’t the only survivor…that would kill me. Already, the grief of losing Taylor and Leslie weighs down my heart. They were so young, so full of life. I can’t believe they’re no longer in this world.
Turning my sight to Vito, he watches me like a hawk. The strain in his eyes shows that he’s reading me like an open book. “Are they all dead?” I whisper when we’re in the elevator.
“No.” He crouches down, ignoring the ding and doors opening as he continues, “Chet and Martha are in surgery. Tanner was going for X-rays to determine if surgery was needed.” He doesn’t mention anyone else, so I take that as answer enough.
“Thank you.” My eyes close when he gently presses his lips to my forehead before pulling away, and we move to where my room will be for the night.
Once I’m settled, I can tell that my mother is struggling. “Mom, are you okay?”
Her wide eyes fly up to meet mine. “It’s tough.” She sits in a chair next to my bed.
Vito steps beside her, then whispers something, for her ears only, that makes her nod, and he helps her to her feet before escorting her out and leaving me alone. “I’ll be back,” he promises on his way out, and I believe him.
Slinking deeper into bed, I pull the covers up high around my neck and snuggle into the pillow as my eyes drop shut with exhaustion. This is by far the most emotionally charged day I’ve ever experienced.
A sound startles me awake, my eyes shoot open, and I search the room. Nobody is here. The door remains closed, but my bag of belongings has been moved and is now lying open on the chair in the corner.
Weirded out, I sit up and slowly survey the room. There’s nowhere for someone to hide, unless they’re under the bed, which freaks me out, but I can’t concentrate on that. However, someone was definitely in here.
“Hey, you okay?”
I jump as Vito enters, the door too quiet for my liking. The snick of it closing must be what woke me up.
“I just…it’s stupid.” God, I feel lame and like a fool.
“Tell me.” He seems on high alert now, ready for an attack at any angle.
“Someone was in here.” Blurting it out feels easier than trying to explain.
He goes on the hunt now. Looking under the bed, in the small locker for personal belongings that no one but a child could fit in. He tenses when he spots the bag, and I start to feel better, while still being creeped out.
Bringing it over to the bed, he dumps it upside down for me to look through. “Can you throw the uniform out, please?” I ask, the mere thought of touching it churning my stomach.
Once they’re tossed, all that’s left is my purse, which is not zipped like I ordinarily leave it. My wallet’s clasp is no longer closed, and as I open it, I immediately notice that my ID is gone. “Oh god.”
Vito is quick to pick up on it, too, and cups my face in his hands, waiting for me to meet his eyes. “Not a damn thing is going to happen to you. Do you hear me, sugar? Nothing.” He pulls me into his chest, holding me until I calm down and can breathe without feeling like my throat’s about to close.
“I’m going to text the detective, let him know what’s happened. I’m sure they’ll be here tonight, and they’re going to have more questions.” I nod at him but barely register his words. “Stella.” He blows out what appears like a frustrated breath, then speaks more slowly, “Your mom and I spoke. She’s agreed to go to a private rehab facility in Tallahassee. They have space for her and an excellent recovery rate.”
“H-how did you know?” It’s not like she’s ever been around him until today.
“I’ve seen addiction and withdrawal enough to know the signs.”
“Okay… When, uh, when does she leave?” Pausing, I take a second to truly process, and more questions form. “Wait, I can’t afford that, and I don’t think she can either.”
“It’s on me.” His straightforwardness stuns me speechless. “You think I’m just the customer you spilled food on, but sugar, I don’t go to that diner for the food. It’s you. It’s always been for you.”
“Me?” I must look addled because his smile softens his face.
“Yeah, Stel, you. I’ve been addicted since that first day you served me. Just been waiting for you to give me the time of day again. Today, I had planned to make sure you did.”
“Today,” I repeat. A day from absolute hell.
“Yeah,” he murmurs into my hair.
“I can’t go home, can I?” Resting my head on his chest, a sense of peace washes over me at how protectively he holds me.
