I look away, unable to deal with this conversation right now. Not when I’m living on the edge of another emotional breakdown. I take a steady breath and look back at him. “I was going to call your mother for you,” I tell him, quickly changing the conversation. “See where she is.”
“No point,” he tells me and shifts a little on the spot. “She died just under a year ago. Stage four breast cancer.” I see his eyes glaze over at the thought, and I grip his hand as a wave of grief washes over me. He then releases a short burst of laughter. “She always did want me to get back with you. She told me time and time again to grovel my way back into your life. Fight for you.”
I sit on the side of the bed, and he looks at me sleepily, reaching out as he does so. “There was never going to be a fight.” My admittance might be said with delicacy, but the words resonate within the room. “I thought I could withstand your attempts, but the moment I saw you in that bar, I felt like my life was rewound back to when we were together. Everything I felt never went forgotten. I just buried it, and I don’t want to ever live without it.” I take a moment, keeping the tears back. “I don’t want to live without you anymore, Zane. When Enzo said you’d been shot, my world stopped.” I struggle with my emotions, fighting a battle I’m only losing. “Nothing else mattered in that moment. I felt like I couldn’t breathe.” I allow my tears to fall now with my confession. “I never, ever want to feel that breathless again if it’s caused by you dying on me.”
“I really fucked up your birthday,” is Zane’s only response to me and he offers me his guilt. He is currently riddled with it, and it’s the last thing I want him to feel.
“Maybe so,” I comment back, placing my hand on his arm. “But you gave me a sense of morality. I thought I had to fight keep myself from loving you, but that’s not an easy feat, so why fight a losing battle?” I ask him gently. “I realized that instead of fighting against you, I was really fighting for you. Especially when we had more details about the shooting. This was a set-up, and I will find out who is behind it. I don’t know how, but you deserve justice.”
“No,” he calmly states, reaching for me. “What I deserve is time to work my magic on you and seal the deal.” My heart stutters upon a few choice beats, but regains its rhythm. I go to argue, but he shakes his head. “I have so much lost time to make up for. I didn’t realize how much until I was lying there bleeding out. All I could think about was you, Amelia. I regret so much and much of it is in regards to you.” He looks at me, full of convicted desire to right his wrongs that I feel myself pant on each exhale. “You deserve to have some form of happily ever after, and I don’t want anyone but me to give that to you.”
“Okay,” I respond and drop all my defenses at once.
A silence settles over us and Zane gives in and stops himself from being the tough guy. His passionate tirade has exhausted him entirely. He needs rest and trying to be an alpha male or trying to keep my spirits up will not help him. So I sit silently behind, watching him just lie there, sporadically blinking between waves of exhaustion.
My fingers trace across his tattoos until they’re drawn to my name. My fingertips trail lightly over my name, and I feel the beautiful beating of his heart under them. He’s still here, still fighting for me. I have a man who cheated death for me when he knows that’s the ultimate Abbiati plan for him – a brutal end. He denied the easy way out to show me that my father’s request may hang over us, but he doesn’t care. He will fight to be with me and make me rethink.
Stupid man really, I rethought the moment our lips reunited after months of separation. The chemicals that swam into my bloodstream cried for its addiction, and still even now, I know, within my heart of hearts, that our end is not consequence of my family’s brutality. No, our end is far in the future, a distant swan song.
I know that I will fool my father into thinking that I am working to get enough of Zane’s trust so he enters our home where he will be killed and laid to rest, but that isn’t it at all. I’m really biding my time. I’m dancing with the devil with the fast-spaced steps, praying I don’t fall out of sync until I find myself with the only option left – freedom.
Seeing my lifeline, laid out weak and hurt, is the most murderous thing anyone could ever bestow upon me.
A knock on the door has us both jolting from our reveries. I look up to see a middle-age male doctor standing in a while coat with a file in his hands that I can only suppose is Zane’s.
“Sorry to interrupt, but I heard you were awake, so I just want to check on Mr. Maverick’s progress,” the doctor announces politely, breaking into our soundless haven. “I just need you to step out of the room.”