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“You were in a coma for months,” Gavino says quietly as he takes my arm. “The doctors say you have to relearn some things. You got shot pretty bad, brother.”
“The doctors can go fuck themselves.” I clutch his arm, glaring. “I’m a Bruno. There’s no such thing as weakness for me.”
Gavino’s expression softens. “I know that.”
“Let me go.”
He hesitates. I can tell he wants to keep supporting me, but I swear if he doesn’t back down, I’m going to slam this cane into his foot until he screams like a little girl.
Fortunately for him, he backs away.
I take a deep breath and start going. Each step is a shuffling, agonizing ordeal. My muscles atrophied from being in bed for so long, and though my upper body is still quite fit, my lower body needs more work. But worse than that, it’s like the signals I’m sending aren’t quite reaching. I think move, move, move, but nothing happens until I practically scream it at myself. And even then, I get barely a twitch.
The doctors said that with serious dedication to physical therapy I can get back to where I was, or at least close enough that I won’t need a cane or a walking aid. And for a normal person, that might not be a problem.
But I’m not a normal person and I don’t have a normal family.
Step after agonizing step. It takes me fucking forever, but I get across the parking lot. Gavino helps me up the curb, up some steps, and into the apartment building. I’m drenched in sweat, breathing hard, and my legs and shoulder hurt like fucking crazy.
“She’s on the second floor,” I say, staring at the steps. They’re like a mountain, and I know this will be torture. Each step will be like agony in my hips and thighs. Each movement will bring some new fresh hell.
“There’s got to be an elevator,” Gavino says, looking around.
But I get started. One leg up, a stumble, and I nearly fall on my face before I catch myself on the railing. I get up a step, and another, before Gavino curses and comes to help.
“Fuck off,” I grumble as pain flashes down my flesh like lightning.
“You’re going to hurt yourself.”
“I can handle it myself, god damn it,” I snap at him, my anger spilling out. I know it isn’t his fault—Gavino’s only doing what any brother would in his situation, even me if the roles were reversed—but I’m so damn frustrated at my limited abilities right now that I’m taking it out on him.
He glares at me. “I know you can, but you don’t have to do it alone.”
“Fuck off and let me go on my own.”
Gavino hesitates, but he listens. He understands that walking up the steps right now isn’t about the steps at all—it’s about a war with myself. With my own frailty, my own failings. My own mortality. I simply can’t accept that I’m not the man I was a few months ago, and I won’t let my injuries stop me.
Even though they should.
I climb the steps. It’s not pretty, and he has to catch me once to make sure I don’t tumble down half a flight, but I eventually make it. My legs are screaming with pain and I’m drenched in sweat as I stagger down the hall to the girl’s apartment, which is mercifully nearby.
“You’re such a fucking asshole,” Gavino says, standing off to the side. He shakes his head. “You’re going to hurt yourself, you know that? You want to get better but you’re only going to make yourself worse.”
“Fuck off,” I mutter and knock on Mirella’s door.
“Imagine if she’s not home.” Gavino grins and laughs, shaking his head. “You’ll have to do this all over again.”
“She’s home.” I knock again, louder. She’d better be home because I’m not sure I can survive the trip back down, let alone another climb up, let alone Gavino’s smug smile.
The door opens after my third knock and Mirella’s standing there with wet hair, a skin-tight white t-shirt over her bra-less chest and a pair of short cotton shorts.
I feel something wake deep in my chest. It’s dark and dripping, a lustful hunger that I didn’t know I had anymore. I stare at her and feel my heart miss a beat as my eyes roam down along her pert, hard nipples to her hips, and back up to her pretty face. She’s a beautiful girl with full lips, thick, dark hair, and dark eyes. She looks nothing like her father, nothing at all.
Desire rushes through me in a sudden, shocking pulse.
I haven’t felt this since I woke up from my coma. No, longer, I haven’t felt this in years.
She’s striking. No, that’s an understatement. She’s unreal. Ever sweet curve of her full figure is like a symphony. Her hips, her thighs, fuck, her lips. I can’t help my reaction. I’m half hard and pulsing. I found her attractive yesterday, but seeing her like this, with wet hair and tight clothes, it wakes something deep inside my body I never thought would return.
