Page 82 of Arranged Hearts


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“As are you.”

I pull the shirt over my head, and he turns, walking back the way they came. I follow him, unsure of where I am. “How far out are we?” I ask Joey as we get to the car. Lucas has the music blaring but turns it down as we walk to the car.

“A few hours.”

“My head hurts,” I tell him, rubbing my temples. It pounds as he opens the back door and tells me to get in. He follows right behind me, then Lucas takes off. Joey pulls out a first-aid kit and reaches for me, and I let him do what he needs. He is gentle with every single touch. First, cleaning the nick on my ear, then the wound on my back, where Scott knifed me, then he bandages the wound and drops the shirt back down.

“Rest,” he says, pulling me, and my head drops to his lap.

Lucas turns the music back up.

“Can you call Jerome?” I ask Joey.

He nods and grabs his phone, putting it on speaker.

Merci’s voice comes through. “Jerome is still asleep, and your dog is annoying.”

“Merci, is he okay?”

“Adora! Oh God, it’s good to hear your voice. And yes, he’s fine. When we got to Joey’s, we had some ice cream, then watched a movie. And he’s been asleep since.”

“Let me know when he wakes.”

“Will do. We stayed up late watching movies, so he may be asleep for a while.”

“Thank you,” I manage to say before my eyes become heavy.

Joey starts talking, and the last thing I hear him saying is to feed the dog.

* * *

“Adora.”

Someone is gently shaking me.

I wake up and scream, my hands hitting whatever is close, simply trying to escape this nightmare.

“Adora, calm down. Breathe. You’re safe.” Joey pulls me to him, and my head falls to his chest. I inhale, and the smell of everything safe comes back to me.

Joey.

Safety.

He’s my home.

Who would have thought that a mafia brother would be safe? He should be anything but.

“We’re at the hospital,” he says into my hair as I curl closer to him. “We can stay here for as long as it takes.”

“Everything hurts,” I say into his chest.

“You took a beating,” he whispers, kissing the top of my head, which is probably covered in dirt and God knows what else. “But you’re strong… the strongest woman I know.”

“That’s your mother,” I correct him. “She’s remarkable.”

“It’s why I love you. You remind me of her. Both such strong women.”

I push away from him, and he gives me the softest smile imaginable.

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