Page 63 of Weaponized

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Mother,” my brother gripes. “Her complexion looks that way because she hasthe flu. And, there’s nothing wrong with her waistline.” His annoyance is clear.

My mom pats his shoulder. “Us girls need to stay on top of these things, darling. You wouldn’t understand.”

My brother has reached his limit. “You might want to head out now, Mom. You don’t want to catch Gráinne’s bug if you’re on your way to Italy. I’d hate for you to be stuck at home, sick.”

She’s being dismissed, but he has done it well. Her pretty blue eyes widen in alarm. “Oh. I hadn’t even thought of that! I was too concerned about your sister to think—I’ll have Kathleen get me some zinc and some vitamin C!” She backs away from me as if she just realized I have the plague.

“Thanks, Mom,” I tell her. It’s nice that she didn’t think of her own health first, I suppose. “I appreciate you dropping by.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” She continues her path toward my doorway. “The things I ordered should be arriving any minute. I’m taking Kathleen with me to Milan, but Margaret will be available. Just call her if you need anything else while I’m away. There are some of your old pajamas down in the basement. Margaret can have them sent over while I’m away. I suppose they are appropriate for this.” She gestures to me and how horrible I look.

My mom is referencing simple flannel pajamas. She made me pack them away because they “aren’t very comely.” Nothing like the chemises that I brought with me. This is truly her way of trying to be helpful, allowing me an unfashionable item of comfort.

I nod because what else is there to say? My brother steps forward to kiss my mother’s cheek. “Travel safe, Mom. Text me so I know you arrive okay.”

My mother gives him a dazzling smile. “My sweet boy. Yes, I’ll be in touch.” She gathers her purse from my countertop and walks over to open my door.

“Drink lots of water, Gráinne. It’s not good for your skin to dehydrate. And get rest. You need plenty of sleep. I have a sleep mask in the supplies I ordered. It should help with all that puffiness.” She motions to my face.

“Thanks, Mom,” I tell her from my spot across the room. She blows me a kiss and, just like that, my mother is gone.

“Sorry about that,” Rowan tells me. “She refused to leave without seeing you, and I didn’t want to wake you.”

I sit down in my armchair and hug a pillow to my chest. “It’s okay. I appreciate you managing her.”

My brother looks me over. “Are you ready to tell me what happened?”

I shake my head. I am not ready to start crying again. “It doesn’t matter. He’s done with me, and I need to figure out my next step.”

Rowan’s eyebrows shoot up to his forehead. “Just like that, huh?”

I shrug.

“Maybe you could talk to him? Or, I could?” My brother suggests. The worry is back in his face.

“No. No, I don’t want that. Please don’t go to him. It was never going to work out between us anyway.”

“Why is that, Gráinne?” Rowan looks at me like I’m crazy.

I don’t want to have this discussion, so I ignore the question. “I need to pull myself together. Da seems to be on a timeline.”

He shifts in his seat. “Everything is in motion, so that he won’t be an issue. Look, if you don’t want to talk about what’s going on, I’ll leave you alone for now.” He stands. “I’ll check in tomorrow morning. Answer your damn phone. And, if you need anything—anything at all—you call me. You are allowed to feel bad for a little while, G. You can pull yourself together later.” With that last piece of advice, he kisses my forehead and leaves me to my thoughts.

Luca

“Get up.” Matteo is shaking my arm, but I don’t bother to move. I’ve been in this bed for days. I don’t know how many. All I want to do is sleep. When I do, I dream of her. The her I thought loved me. Sparkling eyes, brilliant smile, warm words, soft touch. Sometimes when I wake up, I reach over to her side of the bed before I remember what happened. Then the pain slams into my chest all over again. Sleep is better. Being awake hurts too much. I can’t control my thoughts and the voices in my head aren’t on my side.

“Luca, I’m not fucking around. You need to get up or so help me God—”

“Fucking Christ,” I mutter and roll over to see my brother’s irritated face.

“You’ve been up here for three days. I know you’re hurt,” he tells me, and I grunt. “But, you need a fucking shower. You stink. You need to eat. You can’t stay in your room forever.”

Actually, that sounds like a good plan to me. He must see it on my face, because he sighs loudly. “We’re gonna talk about this, motherfucker.”

I glare at my twin. Fuck him.

“Goddamn it. Now, Luca. Get the fuck up.”

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