Sweetest Sorrow (Forbidden Book 2) (3 page)

Unnatural
.

Genna stood on the corner in Little Italy, her heart beating so hard she felt it in her throat. The thumping echoed in her ears in harmony with the footsteps along the pavement behind her. Slowly, Genna turned, her breath catching.

Matty
.

He swaggered past, brushing against her, his cologne swarming her like a cloud. Closing her eyes, she breathed him in. Something about his scent relaxed her, a subtle spicy aphrodisiac that was uniquely him. It was
home
.

When Genna reopened her eyes, she stared at his back, watching him walk away. It was like he hadn't even seen her standing there, waiting. He swung his car keys around a finger, the sight making the hair on her arms prickle from alarm. Something was wrong... so very wrong. What was happening? Where was he going?

She opened her mouth to call his name but no sound came out. Matty continued on, unlocking the driver's side door of the Lotus with his key.

No
. This wasn't right. What was he doing?

Genna tried to go after him, to warn him, to
stop
him, but it was as if a wall stood in front of her, blocking her, locking her in place.

An invisible boundary separating them.

Matty climbed in the car and shut the door. As if in slow motion, Genna stared through the back window, watching his shadowy figure as he stuck the key in the ignition. Frantically shaking her head, she screamed until her throat felt raw, her lungs scorching, but the neighborhood remained deathly silent, abnormally still.

One second... two seconds... three seconds passed, counted by the beats of her frenzied heart, as Matty turned the key. Silence reigned for what felt like an eternity.

In the blink of an eye, it was all gone.

BOOM

Gasping, trying to catch her breath, Genna sat straight up, blinking rapidly to adjust to the darkness.
No. No. No
. Her hands pawed at the bed, feeling only sheets.

No warmth. No body. No Matty.

"Matty?" she yelled, panicked, as she climbed out of the bed.

The door to the motel room opened, a burst of warm air rushing through. Matty stepped inside, clutching a cell phone.

Matty
.

Genna ran right at him, leaping up, jumping into his arms. Legs wrapping around his waist, she buried her face into his neck, trying to ward off tears as her body shook.

"What's the matter, baby?" he asked, kicking the door closed behind him before carrying her over to the bed. "What's wrong?"

"I woke up and you were gone. I thought… I mean…"

Matty dropped his phone down onto the mattress as he hugged her, rubbing her back. "Reception in here was shit so I stepped outside, trying to get a better signal."

"Who were you calling?"

"A friend," he said. "The one who helped us with everything. I was seeing if he knew of anywhere safe, you know… if he knew a place where we could settle for a while, get us out of these motels."

"Did he?"

"He's going to get back to me."

She wanted to ask more but the words wouldn’t form as he pulled her back into the bed, holding her.

"I'm here," he whispered, kissing the top of her head. "I'm not going anywhere. I
promise
."

"
D
id you hear
? Can you
believe
it? They said he's up in surgery right now."

"Is he going to make it?"

"Maybe… who knows? Does it even matter? I just can't believe the guy's not dead yet."

"Oh my God, you're
so
bad!"

Gabriella Russo glanced up from where she sat at the information desk in the Presbyterian Surgical ICU, glaring daggers at the back of the pair of nurses: Cindy Lou Who and her spiteful old friend, the Grinch. Cindy's blonde hair was French braided into pigtails, while the Grinch wore hers incredibly short, a sandy-colored mop balanced on top of her head. Both wore bright blue scrubs, the usual around there… a fact that Cindy often whined about.
Why can't we wear patterns? I've got these kitty-cat scrubs I'm dying to show off!

Oblivious to the attention, the nurses continued with their gossip as Cindy giggled.

She
giggled
.

"I'm just being honest. Who cares if he lives? They're going to send him over here to us, and for what? He's just going to take up a bed. And I don't care what the charge nurse says…
I'm
not taking care of him. I want nothing to do with that. I'm not busting my ass saving his life when we're all probably better off if the guy dies, anyway."

"I feel the same way."

Gabriella cleared her throat, loud enough to make both nurses look at her. Cindy was thirty, while the Grinch—real name Geraldine—had to be pushing fifty. Both had seniority over Gabriella, at barely twenty-six, but neither seemed to have a lick of
compassion
.

Cindy, at least, had the sense to appear ashamed at being overheard, but the Grinch just rolled her eyes, like Gabriella's intrusion was a mere annoyance to her.

Before Gabriella could say anything, chaos erupted in the ICU, security rushing onto the floor, escorting a tall, thick-built man wearing a black suit. Gabriella recognized him, shock running through her.

Primo Galante.

Oh my God.

It can't be.

Security showed him to the waiting lounge across from the information desk, trailing him. Whether they did it for his protection or everyone else's safety, Gabriella wasn't quite sure.
Probably a bit of both
. But his sudden presence on the floor meant one thing—his son had survived surgery.

"I've got other things to take care of," the Grinch said, keeping her head down as she scurried away. Cindy, on the other hand, couldn't stop staring as the man feverishly paced. It wasn't until the elevator doors opened again, the patient wheeled in, that Cindy sprinted from the hallway, ducking out of sight.
Friggin scaredy-cat.

At once, Primo was back out in the hallway, barking orders at everyone.
Do this. Do that. Don't just stand there. Do something!
Security intervened, to calm him, but the man was determined… Gabriella had to give him that.

"Nurse?" the attending on duty shouted.
Dr. Michael Crabtree
. He was a frigid little man, one Gabriella was never particularly fond of working with, but he was at least good at what he did. The doctor looked around, his face scrunching from annoyance. "Where did the nurse go?"

Gabriella sighed. The Grinch was on point. She'd been assigned that room and whatever patient ended up in it. But it was obvious from the disappearing act that she hadn't been kidding about not treating him.

"I can take this one,” Gabriella said before the charge nurse had to intervene and go hunt down the Grinch, who clearly wouldn’t be any help to the patient. "I'll switch rooms with Gr—uh, Nurse Geraldine. Not a problem.”

Monica Burns, the charge nurse, eyed her warily before shrugging it off and switching their rooms on the board, giving Gabriella the patient.

"What is she, a
teenager
?" Primo bellowed, glaring at Gabriella as she approached. "I want a
real
nurse, not some girl playing dress up!"

Gabriella let him have that one. She
did
look young.

"Nurse Russo is exceptional at her job," Crabtree said, shooting her a look that said he might not believe his own words. There was panic in his eyes, something that wasn't good coming from the doctor in charge. "She's fully capable of looking after Mr. Galante, as capable as every other nurse on staff."

"Maybe you're
all
incompetent!"

Gabriella ignored their back-and-forth, sliding past the men into the room. It cleared out as staff got the patient hooked up to all of the machines. The ICU worked like an assembly line in a factory. Everyone had a specific job and they did it efficiently.
In, out, away
. Until a problem arose, it mostly all fell on the nurse. Her job was to make sure he stayed alive. To make sure his heart kept beating. To make sure he kept
breathing
.

No big deal, right?

"If you mess up, so help me God, you're going to regret it," Primo growled. "Every single one of you will pay. I'll see to it. I'll have your jobs. I'll have your
lives
!"

Worried glances were exchanged between some of the staff as security again stepped in, attempting to calm the man down. Gabriella tried to shut it all out, focusing her attention on the patient. She paused when she looked down at him, her stomach clenching at the sight of his battered body.

Dante Galante.

Crabtree joined them, clutching a chart, the glass door to the small room sliding closed behind the doctor as Primo grudgingly stayed out in the hall.

Right away, they went through his diagnosis, listing a host of problems, a laundry list of wounds that had been inflicted. Gabriella listened, taking it all in as her eyes stayed glued to his face.

What in the world happened to him?

He was intubated, not breathing on his own, the whole gauntlet of intervention done. While alive, yes, she wasn't sure he would stay that way. Death knocked on his door, begging to be let in, and judging from the look of him, it wouldn't be hard for Death to pull off some
breaking & entering
, robbing him of his last breath in his sleep.

He lay there, not moving, his eyes closed. For someone with such a big reputation, she thought, he sure seemed…
small
.

"I want to be clear here that complications are
not
allowed," Crabtree said. "I'd rather we do too much than not enough. So we're going to monitor him closely and get him the hell out of here as soon as possible. Understand?"

A murmur of agreement flowed through the room.

Once Dante was stable, the room cleared out, all except for Gabriella and the doctor. She continued to stare down at him, not moving, watching as a tear slid from the corner of his eye, running down the side of his face, the pillow beneath his head absorbing all evidence of it.

"Are you okay, Nurse Russo?" Crabtree asked. "I need you on the same page with us here."

"I'm fine," she said quietly. "He's, uh… crying."

Crabtree scribbled something in the chart before closing it, not even looking at the patient. "It's a natural defense. All it means are his tear ducts are working. A miracle, really, considering everything else on him seems to be broken. Someone worked him over good."

Good
. That word felt so wrong in that context.

There was nothing good about the condition he was in.

"I know you were taking your break when you got pulled into this, so go ahead and grab a few minutes to yourself," Crabtree suggested. "Catch your breath."

"Yes, sir."

"Oh, and the patient's father is his decision-maker, so make sure you introduce yourself properly, you know, since everything will have to flow through him."

Gabriella scowled. Being a critical care nurse meant that a good chunk of her job was spent dealing with families. No matter how distraught, Gabriella had to help them see what was best for the patient. Just as she occasionally offered hope, more often than not, she was in the business of crushing dreams with realism. Often people clung to every miniscule sign of life, ignoring the blatant signs of an inevitable death, causing more suffering than what would've been natural.

But how do you explain that to someone without sounding like the worst person in the world?

Stepping out of the room, she hesitated, coming face to face with Primo. "Mr. Galante, I'm—"

"I don't care." His voice was sharp. "Who you are means nothing to me. Just…
fix him
."

Despite the harshness of his tone, Gabriella sensed the fear in those words.

"We'll do everything we can," she said. "They're going to be running some tests soon, but you're welcome to visit with him for a few minutes, if you'd like."

Primo looked past her, into the room. "I would."

"And I know he's unconscious, and he looks like he's sleeping, but it's widely believed that people in his condition are capable of hearing what everyone is saying. Talking to him may help him wake up sooner."

Primo simply nodded before stepping into the room, passing the doctor on his way out. Gabriella watched as Primo stalled at the end of the bed, just staring at his son in silence.

He didn't utter a single word.

Sighing, Gabriella walked away, giving the man some privacy. She headed to the elevator, taking it down to the first floor, and steered toward the cafeteria, desperate for some coffee.
Strong
coffee. The blackest, bitterest coffee ever produced, with obscene amounts of caffeine in it, the kind with enough of a jolt to jumpstart a racecar.

Still a few hours left in her shift before she could even think of going home.

"Oh my God, it's
so
crazy, right?" a young girl whisper-shouted into her cell phone, sitting alone at a small table inside the little on-site coffee shop. She wore a set of scrubs, a nursing assistant badge clipped to her. "Cindy that works up there texted me a minute ago and said he is
all
fucked up."

Gabriella shook her head before ordering a large coffee.
Un-friggin-believable
. The folks at the hospital would figure out how to cure cancer before they ever came up with a solution to eradicate the infectious gossip.

"It just makes me wonder, you know, about the other one," the girl continued, her voice no quieter. "You know, that thing that happened last night? The explosion? I heard that guy was one of them, too. I mean, maybe not
as
bad." She paused, laughing. "Don't you think it's all kind of… I don't know…
exciting
?"

Walking by the table, Gabriella snatched the girl's phone right out of her hand, pressing the button on the screen to hang it up. She dropped the phone back down in front of her, letting it hit the table with a thud.

"Hey!" the girl exclaimed. "What's your
damage,
lady?"

"They're people," Gabriella said, her voice shaking as she tried to hold it together. "Real people, with real lives, and people who love them. You want to talk about someone's death? Want some misfortune to find exciting? Go watch
Grey's Anatomy
."

* * *

T
hick black smoke
rolled out from beneath the hood of the truck, tainting the early morning sky. The stench singed Matty's nose, making him grimace when he inhaled. The sun was just starting to peek up over the horizon and already the day was off to a terrible start.

"So, uh... can I start worrying now or what?"

Matty cut his eyes at Genna as he turned the truck key for probably the tenth time, listening as the starter stuttered, but the engine refused to come to life. Cursing, he gave up and slammed his hands against the steering wheel.

Worry?

Yeah, it was time to start worrying.

Exasperated, he leaned back in the seat and stared through the grubby windshield at the long stretch of highway in front of them. Genna's gaze burned through him as perspiration rolled down the side of his face.

Matty was sweating, literally
and
figuratively.

He was so in over his head he was surprised he could still even breathe. It felt like the world was on his shoulders, pressing upon his chest, trying to suffocate him. It was a burden he willingly took on, a weight he was happy to carry if it meant Genna had less to worry about, but he could only do so much. He only
knew
so much. He had the best intentions, but he was nothing more than a guy—a guy with flaws and limitations, and little more than a fucking broken down truck.

"I don't know what to do," he admitted, offering the quiet concession as smoke surrounded them like an ominous black cloud.

"Well," Genna said, "lucky for you, I
do
."

Before he could ask what, Genna hopped out of the truck, slamming the door behind her. Matty climbed out and walked around to the back when she started that direction.

"There were some houses about a quarter of a mile back," she said, digging through the things they'd bought at the store. "They were right off the highway."

"You think we should go for help?"

"Something like that."

"I'll go—"

"Oh no, you won't," she said, cutting him off as she shoved something in her pocket, a smile touching her lips. "
I
will."