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The bullet in my shoulder was wedged in the soft tissue. Which meant they could fish it right out, pack it up, and wrap it.
But the one in my hip, well, it went ahead and got itself lodged in the bone, creating some fracturing that needed to be dealt with.
I'm sure it was more technical than that, but that was the gist of it.
Then I was being wheeled off, and fell into a blissful oblivion.
The next thing I knew, the beeping of machines penetrated through the fog of anesthesia, a constant, annoying noise that had me grumbling awake.
"Wake up, sunshine," Gio's voice said.
"Ugh, I must be in hell if your ass is here," I said before my eyes even fluttered open.
"Glad to see they didn't carve out your bad attitude with those bullets," he said, giving me a smile as I looked over at him.
Gio was not someone who worried. I think when you were in the line of work that he was, not much got a rise out of you, or made you sweat.
He looked strained, though. Worried, even.
For me.
"Surgery went well," he told me, moving closer. "Got the bullet and the fragments. You'll be walking like an old lady for a few weeks, then you can be back to kicking ass and protecting little kids in no time."
"How is Avi? He hit his head, right?"
"He's fine. No concussion."
"So he's home?"
"No. Got those stubborn-ass Costa genes. Refuses to go home until he sees for himself that you're okay."
"Did Lorenzo find the guys?" I asked.
"How about you stop worrying about that right now?" Elio said, coming in the door. "Everyone is on it. We'll worry about that. Not you. You need to get better. Mom is going to set up the living room for you," he added. They had a brownstone, and the bedrooms were on the upper floor.
"No!" a little voice joined the ones of full-grown men. "She's coming home with us," Avi insisted, pushing past Elio to rush to my side. But then losing his nerve at the last foot away from the bed.
"Hey, bud. How's your head doing?" I asked, reaching toward him, but he flinched away from me when he saw the IV in my hand.
"Avi!" Santi called, voice raised, panicked.
"Snuck off on the old man, eh?" Elio asked. "In here, Santi," he called out the door.
"Avi, I told you that you can't..." Santi started, then trailed off when his gaze landed on me. "Alessa." He breathed out my name. That was the only way to describe it. Like it was pure relief. Like he'd been holding his breath this whole time.
"Hey," I said, hearing a crack in my voice. But, no, that couldn't be right. My voice didn't crack. I didn't break down. That wasn't me.
"Hey, man," Elio said, whacking a hand into Gio's chest. "Let's go get some coffee, and check in with Pops," he suggested.
"Yeah, we'll be right back," Gio agreed, following Elio out the door.
"Does it hurt?" Avi asked, drawing my attention away from his father.
"See this button?" I asked, finding it with slow, clumsy fingers. "If I push this button, I get pain medicine. I don't feel anything."
"Dad said you're coming home with us," Avi said, lower lip pouting out at the idea that his father had given him false hope. "So we can take care of you," he added. "I was gonna make you tea."
"You make good tea," I said, nodding. "Maybe I should come home with you then," I told him, watching the way his eyes lit up.
"Hey, bud," Santi said, grabbing his son's shoulder. "Can you go sit with Nonna for a couple minutes, so I can talk to Less?"
"Okay," Avi grumbled, clearly unhappy about it.
"You can come back and see me in a little bit," I told him.
"Okay," he said again, then launched himself at me, his upper half draping over my midsection.
That whole not being in pain thing? Well, that wasn't so true right then.
"Hey, I'm okay bud. I'm okay."
"I shouldn't have made you go ice skating," he said, holding too much guilt in his too little body.
"Hey, this was not your fault," I said, giving him a squeeze. "Do you hear me? None of this happened because of you. I promise."
"I'm sorry you got hurt," he said, pulling back, eyes a little glassy.
"I'm doing okay, bud. Don't worry about me."
"I'm gonna make Nonna get you some snacks," he declared, giving me a firm nod, happy to have a mission.
"You know all my favorites," I agreed, giving him a smile.
"I'll be back."
"I'll be waiting," I said, watching him walk away in his changed clothes his grandmother must have brought in for him. Because his other ones must have been soaked in my blood.
"Alessa," Santi said again in that low, hushed voice.
And something about that softness from such a hard man, well, it seemed to put a crack in the damn inside.
