“By being a family,” Zane replies, sitting back down on the bed. “You have brothers who need you and you need them. You have to use each other to grieve together.”
“Manuel did nothing to deserve this,” I whisper, my murmur so softly issued it barely reaches my ears. “He was the one who was never meant to be hurt.” As my eyes begin to water, I close them. “Where is Carlo now?” I ask, opening them only to look at him and get a quicker response. He could pause, waiting for me to focus, but I need to know these things now. “And Enzo?”
“Carlo left after telling you. He’s distraught. Last I heard, Enzo was sleeping. He’s barely spoken since he woke up. When we told him Manuel was gone and that you were in a coma, he closed down. He wanted to be left alone, so Carlo’s been between sitting outside his room and waiting by your bedside.” There’s a heavy break, again the sound of my heart monitor takes over the room, but suddenly, Zane intakes a huge breath to gather some courage. “I hate that this is happening to you, Amelia.”
I take a moment to absorb it all and taking in Zane’s solemn exterior only adds to the misery of the moment. My eyes burn once more, my throat tightens, and I reach out for his hand. “It’s happening to you, too.”
“I’m not family,” he whispers, giving me a small smile.
“You’re mine,” I murmur my response, and the tears that I swore wouldn’t fall begin to drop. If there is one thing I’ve learned in this life, it’s that a man who repeatedly comes back to me is someone worth paying attention to. The one who loves me regardless of what I say and do is one worth treasuring. Before, when he let me go, the circumstances were different, but now he knows everything. There aren’t any hidden secrets, no dire skeletons I want to keep hidden. In my rashness to be cold, I turned against him in the hope he’d lose all manner of faith and love in me, but it only strengthened. A man like that, one who I love so unwittingly, is one that I will only ever want. “There are a lot of things I could wish for right now and having you here is definitely one of them.”
“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart. I’m here to stay. I only leave when you tell me and I want a damn good reason. I think even then, I won’t be able to leave.”
I lick my lips as the tears become heavier and I close my eyes to prevent them from falling just now. In the face of grief, I have this man to present me with so much love and support. While I become unbidden, shattering into millions of pieces, Zane is the rope I need to hold me together. Without him, I dread to think what mess I would be moving through the day as. As the memories of Manuel’s demise and my own and Enzo’s stabbing briskly stir alive, I cave. I shudder on the first sob, it becoming a tremendous wave that crashes over me and begins to drag me away. Quickly, my tears disperse into a frenzied flood I cannot stop. Grief captures me and I am far too weak to fight against it.
Zane gets up, his weight leaving the bed, but it returns moments later as he comes to my side, crawling beside me. Gently, and with ease, he pulls me into his arms, wary of my fragility and allows me to dissolve wholly as he just holds onto me. He minds every line and wire that runs from my body just so he can keep his arms around me and gives me any piece of peace he can offer me. I thought having him here playing bedside vigil was enough, but the moment I am surrounded by everything that makes Zane – his arms, his scent, his breathing, his love – I find myself able to find some salvation from the grief I only know will develop into a maelstrom in the coming weeks.
Then with a hushed voice, he whispers the one thing I need to hear– “Va tutto bene, dolcezza.”
It could be an empty promise, and right now I fear nothing will ever be okay, but he’s here holding me when I need him the most. That tells me there is some distance glimmer of hope for us all.
***
It’s been hours since I woke up the second time. I seem to sleep in snippets, waking up every other hour after having the horrors of life brandished at me on repeat. Zane dozed off in the seat beside my bed, his hand clasped in mine after holding onto me to settle. I wanted to ask him about my own health, but every time I thought about it, I realized I didn’t care. I’m alive and that’s what matters. I got lucky while my baby brother didn’t. What else do I need to know?
Staring up at the ceiling of my hospital room, I allow the room around me to fade away; the gentle hum of machinery around me becomes distant, as does Zane’s heavy breathing. All I’m left with is the ticking of my thoughts as they roll over and lapse into one another, fighting for my attention.
But the front runner is the thought of death.
There is no romanticism about death. There’s no warmth, only that aching feeling as everything you know is torn from you. And that’s the bittersweet truth of becoming too comfortable in life – there is nothing more final than death.