They move to the door, and as Nathaniel walks out, Enzo lingers in the doorway. He wants to say something—I can see the inner battle reflected in his eyes—but instead, he shakes his head, presumably shaking the thought away. Then, he says, “Thank you. For patching him up. Couldn’t exactly take him to the hospital without questions being asked.”
The entire situation annoys me, but I push the feeling aside. I would do anything for my family, including helping someone close to them. “You're welcome.”
When they’re gone, I remove my surgical gloves one at a time, throwing them away and washing my hands thoroughly, before sinking into the leather chair in the corner of my one-room clinic.
Propping my elbows on my thighs, I lean forward, my head hanging. My cousin was shot at today by a Paladino. Or at least the men employed by them.
Meanwhile, there’s a Paladino doing God knows what in my apartment right this very moment.
So quickly, things have gone haywire.
The burning hatred lingers deep within, despising that family for what they’ve done to mine. What happens when you cannot forgiveorforget? There seems to be no end in sight for the clash between us.
Frustrated, I gather peroxide and the other supplies needed to clean up the blood Nathaniel dripped outside of the clinic door. The last thing I need is for someone to see it and grow suspicious, or for a young patient to see it and become too scared to visit.
Knowing the cleaning process may take a while, I settle in and prepare myself to ease the chaos in my mind, ready to take out my anger by scrubbing the concrete floor.
I need time to think. So many problems persist, and the most pressing issue seems to be what to do about the woman in my apartment whose family just tried to kill a member of mine.
Again.
But I’ve come to recognize that it honestly has nothing to do withher, and that bothers me.
My anger is the only thing I have to hold on to. It’s a living, breathing, tangible feeling I’ve harbored for so long, I’m not sure how she’s begun to soften it so suddenly.
If I let the emotion completely fall away in her presence, there truly isnothingkeeping me from exploringthese new feelings that have taken hold of me. Onesshe’sput in there. Curiosity. Warmth.
Temptation.
Blooming inside, they’ve grown roots. And as much as the dishonesty to my family may kill me, there’s nothing I want more than to water these feelings to see if they grow into something more.
Chapter 17
Vinnie
The sound of plates clattering jolts me awake, and for a moment I’m confused about where I’m at. Sitting up quickly, I scan my surroundings, recognizing the dark wood surfaces and muted color palette of Sly’s apartment.
On the TV, a rom-com I don’t remember putting on earlier plays. A plush blanket lays over my lap, and I realize I obviously fell asleep.
What time is it?
Rising from the couch, I drape the blanket across the back and walk into the kitchen, where I can now hear rustling. Sly’s back is to me as he takes Styrofoam boxes from a large brown paper bag and sets them neatly on his kitchen island.
“You’re awake,” he states as I walk up beside him. “Are you hungry?”
The Di Mercutio logo on the side of the bag, alongwith the rich scent of garlic and sauces, makes my mouth water. “Yes, thank you.”
“I picked up food on my way back—I took longer than expected and thought you might want a decent meal. Figured this was a safe bet since I’ve seen you at this restaurant. But I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I ordered a variety.”
Glancing at the clock on the stove, I’m surprised to see it's nearing five in the evening. How had I sleptthatlong?
“I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I’m so sorry.”
“There is no need to apologize. Both your body and mind were clearly exhausted. I’m glad you could find comfort from my couch.”
Sliding onto the same barstool I claimed earlier, I smile as I watch him finish arranging everything on the island. He looks so domestic, completing such menial tasks with the sleeves of his black button down rolled to his elbows. The top three buttons are undone, and his hair is slightly disheveled, like he’s been running his hands through it.
His entire demeanor at this moment makes my heart skip a beat.
