AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I’ve never had a sling on my arm before. It’s a strange feeling just having your arm hang there, constantly bent. My fist occasionally brushes against my boob for some reason which I find very funny.
Although it’s probably the drugs in me making me laugh.
“These painkillers are awesommmmme,” I slur my words as Dante gently takes me up the stairs to the bedroom.
Despite my bad shoulder and literally just coming back from the hospital, I still have it in me to turn around and say, “Ooh, we’re going to the bedroom. Are you going to kiss me and make me better?”
Dante chuckles.
“Let’s just get you to bed, Bambola.”
I pout as he maneuvers me onto the bed and under the sheets.
“You know… it doesn’t really even hurt that much.” I try to wink, but it comes off as a slow blink.
Dante smirks at me before leaning down and brushing his lips against mine, whispering, “Go to sleep, wife. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
He pulls back with a smile, rubbing my brow with his thumb. I see pain wash over his features for a second, but I feel the drowsiness kick in, and before I can say anything, I fall asleep.
The next morning, I wake up to birds chirping and the sunlight getting me right in my eye. I put my hand over my face, shielding myself from the way-too-bright rays. The clock on the nightstand says six a.m.
Why am I awake?
Oh, right.
I feel the pressure on my bladder as the need to pee suddenly hits me. I take very tentative steps toward the bathroom. After relieving myself and washing my hands, I can’t help but look at myself in the mirror.
Dark circles, tired eyes, messy hair. Man, I look like shit. But I’m alive. And so is Dante.
The sound of Dante calling my name echoes in my head. The whole moment does. Seeing the Donnelleys and the gun he had pointed at Dante, me spinning around to shield him, and then the pain of the bullet. It was the gunshot that I passed out. I recall waking up a few times in the hospital and then coming home, but it’s all foggy.
I assume it’s the drugs.
Before heading downstairs, I do my best to clean up my face and comb my hair. I can smell breakfast, and my stomach makes loud noises, telling me how I’ve deprived her.
Walking into the breakfast nook, I see Dante sitting behind a stack of pancakes.
I remember the first time I walked in here. It was the morning after he kidnapped me, and I drank his liquor. I was hungover and mad as hell, and Dante… well, I thought he was weirdly nice, but the way he ordered Mateo and what he said as he left made me tingle with excitement rather than fear.
I believe that was the first sign that I would end up here.
The second I step into the kitchen, Dante’s head lifts from his paper, and he rushes to my side.
“Bambola, you should have called me. I would have carried you down here.”
He helps me to his side of the nook.
“It’s been a few days now, and my shoulder hurts, not my legs. I’m fine.”
He sits beside me and pours me a glass of orange juice. The sweet liquid feels good running down my throat. Since we returned, I’ve only had room-temperature water and soup for the last few days.
I’m feeling so much better. I can walk without holding the wall, and I’m on less pain meds. I feel pretty good. Just messy. I haven’t been able to take a shower. I feel like such a grease ball.
“I want to take a shower after breakfast,” I say, plopping a cherry in my mouth. My tongue battles to try to find the pit.
“Are you going to let me help you?” he asks.
Aww, he’s so sweet. He’s asking permission for something he’s definitely going to do.
