Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84442 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84442 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Not after what she almost cost him.
Not after what she did cost him.
“Okay.” I haven’t made eye contact with him since he introduced himself, still in too much of a tailspin to feel like anything is really okay yet. “And Nick? Is he…”
I can’t even finish the sentence, too scared to put the thought of him going to jail out into the ether.
He was protecting me. I would have died if he didn’t do what he did.
I’ve been in the nicest hospital I’ve ever seen for half a week, being monitored and tested and treated for my head wound and the various cuts and bruises. It could have been so much worse than the minor concussion and top-of-the-line doctors I wound up with. I can’t stand the thought of not being able to see Nick again after everything that happened.
If he gets put away for saving my life, I’ll never forgive myself.
“Bruno D’Amico’s death has been ruled as self-defense,” the cop says. “No one is facing any charges.”
He doesn’t sound particularly thrilled about that, green eyes flat with disapproval, my fingers twisting uncomfortably in the stiff hospital sheets as I realize what’s happening. Lucy might be the one handling everything, or it may be Nick himself, but clearly the D’Amico family has some hand in cleaning this whole mess up.
As much as the thought of Nick using his mafia ties to keep himself out of trouble unsettles me, I can’t deny that I’m glad for it right now. I couldn’t bear to lose him after all of this.
“Thank you,” I say softly, smiling weakly at the officer. “I appreciate you coming by to tell me all this.”
He nods sharply, a tight smile on his thin lips.
“Just doing my job, ma’am,” he says, tugging his cap back over his buzzed brown hair. “You and your boyfriend will likely get a call from us in the next week to tie up some final details.”
My boyfriend.
Is Nick my boyfriend? It feels kind of presumptuous to say that without even talking to him about it.
After everything that’s happened, the term also feels kind of juvenile.
Whatever, that’s not something for me to think about right now.
“We’ll make sure to be available,” I promise, even though I have no clue how Nick will want to handle this.
“Just be sure to only answer calls from numbers you recognize,” he warns. “It’s a good idea to keep your head down for now. Money goes a long way with keeping the media quiet, and I’d advise you not to waste a chance to keep your name out of things.”
With that, he turns to take his leave, and I take a deep, steadying breath.
It’s finally over. There’s nothing left to worry about except for my relationship with Nick, and I can’t pretend that I’m conflicted on what to do anymore.
I know what I want, and it’s Nick.
One of the nurses comes in and unhooks me from the machines, placing my discharge papers and a set of clothes from the gift shop on the edge of the bed before telling me to go home and get some rest. As ready as I am to get out of here, the thought of going home sends a chill down my spine.
Logically, I know there’s nothing to be scared of anymore, but the memory of opening my front door to Bruno’s smiling face is enough to scare me off.
I don’t know if I’ll be comfortable being alone there again.
I quickly change into the clothes the nurse brought for me, debating where to go. Taylor’s is the obvious choice, even though she’ll be at work for another few hours. She’s stopped by every night after she gets off, keeping me in the loop with everything and distracting me from it all when I need it.
It seems like a waste to go sit in her living room when she’s not even there, and I haven’t seen Nick since I passed out in Bruno’s torture shed.
Taylor said he wasn’t allowed to visit me while I was here since the investigation was still ongoing, but I want to see his face again so badly it hurts. All I know is that he’s been waiting in the lobby the entire time, grilling her for details on my condition every night when she leaves.
It’s been nearly four days, so I can’t imagine he’s still there, and the decision to head over to his place comes easily.
Taylor brought me my phone and charger, so I snag them and place them into the small baggie the nurse left my discharge paperwork in and head toward the elevator. The trip doesn’t take long, but by the time I reach the lobby, I find myself coming to a complete stop.
Nick is tucked away in a secluded corner, his beard grown out, his hair tousled like he’s been running his hands through it non-stop. He’s slumped over in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs, looking like he’s about a quarter of a second away from passing out, but he glances up and scans the lobby after a few seconds.