Page 134

She hated being so weak, especially now that she knew Gregorio was conscious.
Before she collapsed entirely, her mother helped her back onto the edge of the mattress.
Frantically, Rosa looked to the nurse.
“I’ll get you a wheelchair.”
“I can walk—”
“If you want to see Mr. Conti, that’s not going to be an option, Ms. DiLuce.”
“But—”
“Honey, if you hurt yourself even more, you’ll be no good to anyone,” her mother said.
In frustration, she raked her hair back. She wanted, needed, to get to Gregorio’s side—where she belonged—as soon as possible.
“Can you at least help me into some real clothes?” she asked her mom. She’d feel better if she wasn’t in a hospital gown.
“Will the staff be okay with that?”
She shrugged. Did it really matter? “I’ll be checking myself out of here really soon.”
Rosa pursed her lips. “Not if you can’t stand up.”
Forcing back a sigh, she nodded.
After squeezing her hand, Rosa crossed the room to pick up the bag she’d brought along.
Her mother turned her back while Sasha struggled into her underwear and bra, then she helped her with the cozy fleece sweatshirt.
Getting the sweatpants over her bandaged ankle was a challenge, making her glad she hadn’t asked for a pair of jeans. No way would she have been able to get into those.
“I don’t suppose you have a brush with you?” Sasha asked. Her mother carried a purse the size of a small piece of luggage. Whatever anyone needed, she always seemed to have.
Rosa smiled. “I promise you, he’s not going to care what you look like.”
“But I do.”
“Of course you do.” Without another word, Rosa pulled out a brush.
On the first pull through her hair, the bristles caught on a tangle. Sasha grimaced. Every damn part of her hurt, and the pain seemed to be getting worse instead of better.
Rationally, she knew it was because she’d had an adrenaline dump, but that didn’t help her frustration.
“Let me help you, honey.” Her mother’s warm hand curled around her shoulder.
She didn’t remember her mother brushing her hair since the night of the robbery. Until now, she hadn’t realized what a dividing line that was. Between being a kid and becoming a grownup.
Since she couldn’t go anywhere until the nurse returned, she nodded. “Thank you.”
A few minutes later, she was settled in the wheelchair, an IV pole attached to the side. The nurse draped a blanket over her legs, and her mother stroked her hair one last time.
“I’ll be here when you get back.”
“Thank you.” She looked at her mother’s pale, drawn features. This had really taken an unfair toll on her. “I’m sorry.” She extended her hand. “I mean it. For everything.” Getting hurt, the Gregorio situation, hurting her sister.
Her mother offered a small smile. “As long as you’re okay, everything else will be fine.”