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We both fell into silence. Through the window, I watched the waves of the river lapping at the shores down below. Lucien had fallen into those waters and they’d done their best to keep him. My throat closed up and I swallowed hard past the lump.
He’d done what he promised.
He’d come back.
Despite the river. Despite death. He’d fought his way back to me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
OLIVIA
Lucien wasn’t well enough to be moved for a month. Cosimo brought the boys from the island and I stayed with them in my childhood home. I would have done anything to be able to stay with Lucien, but I knew he needed quiet to rest and recover.
I also knew he didn’t want the boys to see him weak and injured.
His pride wouldn’t allow it.
It was incredibly healing to see my children happy in the home where I’d been so miserable. It felt like writing new memories over old ones. In the kitchen, where I’d often been denied food, weighed, punished for gaining a half pound, I made their favorite meals. In the dining room where I’d cowered and hoped I wouldn’t be singled out to be berated, I served them nourishing food and listened to them chatter.
Happy, carefree.
In my bedroom where I’d been locked any time I angered my father, I read my sons bedtime stories. I stroked their hair until they fell asleep, I sang nursery rhymes to them, I told them I loved them unconditionally.
The yard where I’d hidden from my parents neglect and abuse, my sons hung a swing and played in the garden.
I did it on my own. Every morning, I got out of bed and poured everything I had into my sons. I didn’t have words to explain to them how grateful I was that we were all alive and together. So I tried to tell them with hot breakfast, with hugs, with loving words, and sometimes with my silence as I watched them play together from the front porch.
Sienna came at noon every other day to watch the boys. Marco befriended Porter quickly and he loved playing video games in the basement with him when he visited. After she arrived, I had a car drive me to the harbor where Viktor waited to take me to Lucien for a few hours.
He looked better every day, but he also looked bored.
Bored Lucien scared me.
I visited him one afternoon and curled up in the chair opposite the bed to wait for him to wake. He was stretched out on his back in a pair of black sweatpants. His bruised chest was bare and the dressings on his left hip had been freshly changed.
Downstairs, I heard the clock chime twice. Lucien’s eyes fluttered open and fixed on me.
Still ice cold, still a barren wasteland of nothing.
I smiled and jumped up to sink onto the bed beside him. His hand came up and rested on my hip, rubbing my jeans.
“I think I’m ready to go home, Liv,” he said, his voice husky.
I knew he was going to push to get up before he was ready. Worried, I ran my fingertips gently up his bare stomach and traced the yellow marks from his bruises.
“Viktor said you walked after I left on Monday,” I said.
“I went out to the porch,” he said. “It’s fucking dull here, Liv.”
I patted his thigh. “Well, you can’t always get what you want, Lucien.”
There was a short, shocked silence. His brow twitched and he eased himself into a sitting position against the pillows.
“Feeling a little snarky, baby?” he asked.
I shrugged. “There’s nothing you can do about it.”
His grip tightened on my thigh and I was surprised to discover that a lot of the strength had returned to those lean hands. A spark of desire flickered deep inside where I hadn’t felt anything since returning to the city.
