Page 105 of Always Mine
“Wound has been packed, but he’s lost a lot of blood.”
“Needs surgery.”
“We need to stabilize him first.”
“Has anyone notified his family?”
“They’re on their way.”
I try to talk, but it’s just a jumble of garbled sounds behind the oxygen mask. Where’s Sophia? Is she okay? Then I feel it. Thefamiliar stroke of her soft, delicate fingers as they lace through mine. Relief mixes with all the other sensations assaulting me. She squeezes my hand, her voice breaking over the cacophony of chaos. “I’m here baby; I’m here.” I try to focus on where the voice is coming from, to turn my head in the same direction, but everything still feels so heavy. Then she comes into view, the same angel who was with me before everything went black. She lowers her face directly in my line of sight so she’s all I see as we move through the busy hospital. She’s crying, the black of her makeup keeping track of just how many tears have fallen, clearing the path for the ones still coming. She’s still the most gorgeous thing I’ve even laid eyes on. A glint of metal catches the light, bathing her in a golden glow. I realize it’s my necklace.
“We need to operate to remove the bullet.”
“He needs a blood transfusion. Anyone know his blood type?”
Noise and time are starting to fade in and out again. I just want to close my eyes
“Mother said AB negative. But she’s not a match.”
“Rare. We’re going to need more units.”
“Any family or friends here we can test for a blood type match? There’s no time to wait. We need blood now.”
“Yes, me.”
There’s some more talk, but I am trying to work out who that other feminine voice belongs to. It’s strained with emotion, but still, the lilt of the accent feels familiar.
“Name?”
“Chiara Gigioliotti.”
More questions, and low hum of her answers. Sophia’s still got a hold of my hand, squeezing and stroking, helping to keep me here. I fight hard to stay conscious so I can hear Chiara’s answers to the doctor’s rapid-fire questions. Some words are garbled, but I don’t miss the last ones, which hit like another bullet.
“Test me. I’m his first cousin on his biological father’s side.”
Then the darkness takes me again.
Chapter seventy-four
Waiting Game
Sophia
WatchingthebullethitMarco in the back plays out like a horror movie on repeat in my head. No amount ofChicago PDprepares you for the brutality of the real thing. The gut-curdling shock of seeing the vivid burst of vibrant red instantly spread across his white shirt as his blood seeped through it in the same way red wine seeps through a tablecloth. It feels burned into my retinas. I stare at my hands, still covered in his blood from when I tried to stop the rush of it as it poured from his body. My attempts were futile. It just kept coming, seeping through my fingers, pooling around us. By the time the paramedics arrived minutes later, Marco had lost so much blood, his eyes had taken on a faraway look before they closed completely. Once he was stabilized and in the back on the ambulance, the paramedics took the gold chain from around his neck, and I secured it to mine. Instantly, I felt comforted in being able to have a piece of him close to my heart.
I know I’m in shock. I feel heavy, almost like I want to sleep for days on end but also entirely too wired to even contemplate it. I’m not even sure I’m blinking right now. Stress and anxiety swirl with panic, a lethal combination fueling the rampant what ifs that ping-pong around my brain. People talk about wanting something with every fiber of their being. The dream job. The new house. To move across the world. For me it was always him. Marco is the very fiber of my being, even if I kept trying to fight the inevitable for the sake of taking it slow. The reality is, there was no going back to slow or anything else after I had a taste of that elusive once-in-a-lifetime kind of love in his every touch. In the small and big ways he loves me. Now I could lose him. For good this time. I’ve never had more regrets for things left unsaid than in this moment. I wish I had let him walk me down the red carpet. I wish I had told him to kiss me. I wish I had asked him to come back home. I wish I told him I choose him because I need him to feel whole. My breathing becomes labored, my hands start to shake, and the tears I thought had run dry are back with a vengeance. They stream down my face and off my nose, swirling with the blood staining my hands to create a watercolor painting of my very worst nightmare brought to life.
“Sophia. Sophia, darling.” My mom is calling me, but I can’t make my mouth move to form the words to answer. I’m lost in my grief. A grief so big it feels like it’s swallowing me whole.
“He’s going to make it, darling. The doctors were confident that once they got him stabilized, the operation to remove the bullet would be successful. Please, let’s get you washed up and out of this dress,” she says, kneeling before me, a hand cupping my face gently like she’s dealing with a skittish animal.
“H-h-h-how long has he been in surgery?” I was there when the doctors outlined the next steps, but I didn’t register a word, just watched as their mouths moved and jumbled sounds tumbled out.
“They’ve given him a blood transfusion, and he’s in the operating room with the trauma surgeon now.”
“Did you know?” I whisper on a sob, lifting my eyes to meet hers where she’s crouched before me.
A look passes over my mother’s face that conveys everything she’s having trouble finding the words to say.