Page 92 of Fool's Gold

The doctor who comes out for an emergency house call tells me pretty much the same thing the EMTs had last night: Marcus needs rest to recover. Keep him confined to a bed, lots of fluids and pain pills for healing, and he’ll be fine.

No permanent damage.

At least, no broken bones that they were able to see, although he could do with an x-ray. There’s no way for them to check for internal bleeding, either, but until Marcus changes his mind, I’m right there with him; we stay home.

Maybe it makes me a shit person for confining him to my bed. Mine, not the bedroom he claimed across the hall.

I need eyes on him constantly to make sure he’s not going anywhere. This is real. He’s here, he’s alive, and he loves me.

It definitely makes me a shitty person when I end up passed out beside him. I can’t even wake up during the night to check on him. The worst nurse in the history of the world.

Marcus is still asleep by the time I get up, the night gradually fading beyond the hills. My head is pounding, my dress is ruined from all the blood, and my feet ache even though I kicked off the heels hours ago.

Still, there’s a certain sense of peace with every step to the espresso machine.

The love I feel, the love Marcus feels, is a warm blanket of safety, cocooning us until the rest of the world disappears. But love isn’t going to give me the jolt in the veins I need to get through today—it will only make every next action easier to take.

My hands tremble, several granules of espresso shaking loose and spilling all over the counter.

It’s done. I swipe the grounds into the sink with a curse.

It’s done, and there’s no going back from what I had River do for me.

Except there’s not a whole lot of anger, the kind I expect to feel. Numbness, sure, and a little bit of shame for the forced hand I played, but there’s not a lot of choice.

I wasn’t going to let them do anything to Marcus. Those goons he got involved with, on my account, weren’t going to let him go without a fight.

So I played my part and made sure any counter moves they might attempt were ineffective. For the first time in a long time, I feel larger than life instead of the small, vulnerable girl I’ve been for so long. Rather than reacting, I took decisive steps to make sure the future is really mine to control.

Freedom. Not only for me but for Marcus.

Haven’t we been through enough?

We deserve our happy ending in whatever form it comes.

I might be taking charge for the first time ever, but it doesn’t make me any better in the kitchen. The scent of burned bread fills the space, and I carry a tray with the ashy edges and coffee back to the room.

Marcus is sitting up in bed with his phone in his hands, scrolling through whatever is on the screen.

“Are you seriously working?”

He glances up at me with one eye nearly swollen shut. The whiteness of the butterfly bandages stands out against the swarthiness of his skin. “Did you seriously make breakfast for us?”

I scoff, determined not to let my nerves show. “It’s not breakfast. It’s just something to take the edge off,” I reply. “I think the best thing to do is call in some delivery. Or we can wait until Mrs. Norris gets here for the day and pay her extra to cook a seven-course meal.”

“Please, don’t start spoiling me now.” Marcus lifts a trembling hand and immediately drops it to his lap. “I’m not sure I’m able to handle much more. You did send a goddamn SWAT team after me.”

The admiration in his tone has me giggling. I set the tray down on my nightstand, spilling espresso in the process.

“Of course I did,” I reply. “I’m not going to go against the Mafia alone. I’m good, but I’m not that good, Marcus.”

His expression sobers at the word, and it kinda lands home how absolutely fucked up this is. People like me aren’t involved with the Mafia. Except I am, by proxy. Because Marcus is involved, and I want him.

We all make our choices. There is no going backward.

“Actually, there’s something I want to show you. I’m not sure if you’ve seen the alerts yet. You were probably about to deep dive into doomscrolling.”

“I literally just picked up the phone. So no, I’m not working. I’m a casual browser this time.” He grips the phone, and I wonder if he’s worried about losing the lifeline.

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