Page 132 of Heartless Game

“I’ll be the judge of that,” the doctor said. “If you’ll give me some space, sir.”

Sir. Why was he calling him sir?

And then it came back to me.

If Abe Silver was dead, that meant Isaac was now in charge of the family.

The exact opposite of everything he’d ever wanted.

“Isaac,” I said urgently, tugging on his wrist. “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault, I?—”

“Quiet,” he ordered, kissing me again. “Nothing’s your fault. There’s nothing for you to be sorry for.”

“Sir,” the doctor repeated.

He moved out of the way, still hovering, as the doctor checked my vitals, looking me over.

“You’re lucky,” he said, when he was done. “Incredibly lucky. The bullet missed your heart by only a few inches and almost destroyed your lung. And then you were in surgery for days, and there could’ve been a terrible infection, or you could’ve gotten stuck in the coma I induced. It’s a miracle you pulled through. You’re going to have quite the scar, and you’ll need bedrest for weeks and physical therapy, but you’ll be okay.”

He straightened, glancing at Isaac. “Sir, I recommend no…strenuous activities for the next month. Including that kiss you greeted her with.” He smiled slightly. “But then you should be fine to…proceed as normal.”

That same strange look flitted across Isaac’s face, here, then gone.

“Marcus says you owe him a favor for this,” the man said.

“Got it, Doc,” Isaac said, and with one peculiar look at me, the doctor left.

Once he was gone, Isaac glanced at my mom. “Hana, can I have a minute alone with your daughter?”

She rose. “Of course.” Kissing my cheek, she said, “I’ll be right outside.”

Alone, Isaac, sat on the bed, holding my hand carefully. “Tovah, I don’t know where to start. I’ve fucked up, from the beginning. Didn’t trust you, treated you horribly. Put you through hell I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. I said awful, horrible things to you, words I’ll always regret, because I was so?—”

I interrupted him. “You were a fucking asshole.”

“I know,” he said. “I was terrified about what it meant that I couldn’t control myself around you, and then later, what it meant to love you. I was broken at the possibility that I couldn’t keep you, so I took it out on you. It was dick behavior after dick behavior, and I’m going to do everything in my power to make it up to you. For every single horrible thing I’ve done. For the rest of my life. I promise.”

What it meant to love you.

He loved me.

He’d said it before, but I’d never been able to truly believe it. Not until now.

“The things you went through,” he swallowed, continuing. “If you hadn’t killed your stepfather, I’d kill him right now, slowly and painfully. I want to bring him back to life just to rip him apart, piece by little piece.”

My eyes were wet. My throat, still dry, stung from the tears.

“Oh, god, bashert, don’t cry,” he said. “I hate when you cry. I want to tear the world apart and rebuild it, bit by bit, into something that will never make you cry.”

“I’m okay,” I told him. “I never thought I’d have someone want to protect me like this. Who would care so much. It feels overwhelming.”

He nodded, not speaking.

“I love you, too, you know?” I said. “So much. I didn’t know it was possible to feel this way about anyone.”

“Like you suddenly have a heart when you never think you did, and that it exists outside of your chest now, and you want to wrap it in bubble wrap and put it in an indestructible glass case and surround it by barbed wire so no one can get near it or ever hurt it?” he asked, his eyes troubled.

I squeezed his hand and laughed a little. “I mean, maybe not that exact imagery, but something like that.”

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