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All we could do was hydrate them, feed them, and give them iron, then hope their bodies could make it work.
“I could do that,” Cesare agreed, nodding.
“Good shit, not crap,” I told him. “And electrolytes,” I added.
“Got it. Anything for you?”
“Coffee.”
I had a feeling neither of us would be getting sleep for a while.
With that, he took off while I continued to flick through the news stations until they eventually gave way to infomercials before the morning news cycles started up.
Then it was time to check on her, and I found myself at once both too eager and oddly hesitant because of that eagerness.
But no matter what was going on in my head, or other parts of me, I had to go in and test her for her temperature.
Then there she was.
Awake.
Freaked the fuck out.
Those warm brown eyes of hers watching me with the same sort of look a small prey animal stuck in a trap looks at the person circling them. With fear and suspicion. Even though that person was trying to take care of them.
“You could be less of a dick,” Cesare said after dropping off Whitney’s food.
“I could,” I agreed, tipping up my coffee to drain the last of it, annoyed to find it not sweet enough.
Years inside with somewhat limited access to sugar, I found myself craving it since I’d gotten out.
“She’s not one of us,” Cesare reasoned.
“Noticed that,” I agreed. “What’s your point?”
“That she’s hurt and confused and scared, and maybe being an asshole isn’t the right move.”
“Luckily don’t have complaint cards for her to fill out,” I said, reaching for my phone, figuring it was time to call Lorenzo, whether or not his baby kept him up all night.
And it was right about then that she started to scream bloody fucking murder.
“I got it,” I said, holding up a hand as Cesare stiffened.
“Well, are you going to get it this lifetime?” he asked when I didn’t rush right in.
There was no rush.
We hadn’t done a whole fuckuva lot to update the place, but we had drilled some holes into the walls and blown in some thick fucking insulation to muffle the noises of people being treated without proper anesthetic.
It helped that we were on the ground level, too, with the two buildings next door not having basement levels.
“Sounds like she needs to get it out of her system,” I added, shrugging.
“Salvatore,” Cesare said, brows raised.
“Alright. I’ll go,” I said, moving out from behind the desk and toward the exam room.
“You done?” I asked as her gaze fell on me while I leaned back against the door.
