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“I’ve been out for a day, and he still hasn’t woken up?”
He shook his head. “Your grandfather said he might never wake up.”
“But,” I choked out, tears streaming down my cheeks. “That’s not… No, he has to wake up.”
“We have to wait and see,” he said with sadness in his eyes.
“So he’s in a coma?”
He nodded. “Marcello could wake up a minute from now… or never. It’s too early to tell. At least he’s breathing, and his brain function looks good.”
“His heart stopped, didn’t it?”
“Yeah, baby.” He held the back of my head, running his fingers through my curls. “He died on the table twice before your grandfather revived him.”
“But he promised me,” I sobbed. “He said he would come back…”
“Shh,” Luca whispered as he held me tighter. “It’s going to be okay.”
“No, it’s not,” I muttered between crying fits. “Not if he dies.”
I pushed on his chest, ripping myself from his arms so I could see Marcello. Luca attempted to stop me, but I shoved his hands away.
He’s just sleeping, I told myself. He will wake up.
Luca stood behind me as I swept the dark strands off Marcello’s clammy forehead. Even in sleep, he was beautiful. He looked so peaceful. As I touched his skin, I felt a flicker of heat spread down my arm. That connection was always present. The same energy I’d felt every time he touched me.
I traced the length of his jaw with my fingers. Bent over the side of the bed, I whispered in his ear, “Come back to me, Marcello. I need you.”
I checked each dip in the heart monitor, studying it like a hawk. Gripping the metal bars on the bed, I leaned forward to kiss his forehead. “Wake up, Marcello. Your queen demands it.”
“Let him sleep,” Luca said over my shoulder.
“Shut up, Luca,” I snapped, anger surging through me as I spun around to face him. “Stop telling me what to do.”
A moment passed between us. My heart thudded as his teeth clenched, and I realized I was out of line. Marcello was his brother, not mine.
“I’m sorry.” I closed the distance between us and brushed my fingers against his. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. It’s just…” My words died off in my throat as I glanced over at Marcello.
“I know,” Luca muttered, his eyes downcast.
I slid my hands up his chest, wrapping my arms around his neck. Our eyes met for a moment. He looked so sad and beautiful I wanted to kiss his lips. Luca held me with a firm grip like he was afraid I would disappear if he let go.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered again, my head foggy from the drugs. “I can’t handle losing another person I care about.”
He tensed at my words. “I know. Try to relax, okay?”
“Okay,” I sighed.
His delicious scent consumed me as I rested my head on his chest.
“He’s going to live,” I muttered, needing confirmation. “Right?”
Luca rolled his shoulders. “Only time will tell.”
My chest tightened as I whispered, “He has to live.”
“He will, baby.” He kissed my head. “Stop worrying about Marcello. He’s a fighter. If anyone can pull through this, it’s him.”
Someone cleared their throat behind us.
Until then, I hadn’t noticed we were still in the ballroom. My eyes traveled around the room and landed on Arlo, Pops, and the Knights who were there before I’d passed out. They sat at a dining table that wasn’t there before, on elaborate dining chairs with the Salvatore snake crest emblazoned at the top.
Drinks in hand, they studied me with curiosity. Arlo sat beside Pops in a new suit. My grandfather looked as if he’d aged ten years within days. Sonny and Drake wore their suits from the day before, looking as if they hadn’t slept in weeks. Dark circles ringed their eyes, their hair messy and without its usual polish.
The golden boy of Devil’s Creek always looked like a billion bucks. But seeing Sonny so disheveled and heartbroken made my stomach hurt. This had to be killing him. He’d been Marcello’s best friend since they were in diapers. When Marcello couldn’t count on Luca, he had Sonny. They had each other.
Arlo watched me with curiosity, his gaze drifting to Luca’s hand on my hip. His intense stare unsettled me. Luca often looked at me the same way. Like he was staring through me, digging deep into my soul, attempting to extract my secrets.
Pops ran a hand through his white hair, forcing a smile as our eyes met. The stress of Marcello’s operation must have taken a toll on him. At his age, he hadn’t operated on anyone in years, and it showed.
I slipped out of Luca’s grasp and walked over to the table. Pops slid out his chair, standing to his full height.
I launched myself into my grandfather’s arms. “You saved him,” I said as he hugged me. “Thank you.”
