“I’m sorry for the few encounters we’ve had as well,” he continued. “My sister is a grown woman, and she’s always been capable of making her own choices. It was her choice to make, not mine.”
“Well, she chose me anyway, so you only delayed the inevitable.”
“Holidays are going to be awkward as fuck,” he grumbled.
“Not if you’re not invited.”
He chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “I deserved that one.”
“And more,” I pointed out.
The scraping of the chair against the hospital floor told me he was getting up, and my grip tightened on the knife. He might have apologized, but it didn’t mean I trusted him.
However, the echo of his footsteps grew distant and I slightly relaxed.
“Jet,” I called out.
“Yes?”
“Does Anya want to leave you?” I questioned.
“I’m not sure, she’s too busy throwing shit at me and trying to kill me to voice her plans,” he grumbled.
My lips twitched. That was my sister alright. “A word of advice: If she wants to leave, let her.”
“I really am sorry, Santos,” was his answer, choosing not to comment on my advice.
The door shut with a soft click, and I knew he was gone. The worry for my sister remained, but suddenly, I felt lighter because I knew Anya could handle Jet, and if I were a betting man, I’d wager that it wouldn’t end well for the fucker.
Gabriel
The days came and went, the hospital routine giving me way too much time to think, and that alone was enough to make me insane. My sight was still useless. The doctors insisted it would take time, yet I’d seen no improvements in the days and weeks that had passed. It was hard not to despair. I kept imagining the future, and it didn’t look very bright and colorful. Literally and metaphorically.
My brother claimed it would return, and Sailor suggested I see a therapist. Although, what I would talk to a shrink about was beyond me.
But on a positive note, my shoulder had healed very nicely.
The door to the room opened, and I had to swallow a bark of frustration. I had never felt so helpless in my entire fucking life and the adjustment was hard. I hid it, sending guilt that haunted Amara and what I hated more than my sightless condition was knowing she beat herself up for it.
“Ahhh, there’s my uncle.” Nikola’s voice filled the space. “He looks like an uncle, doesn’t he, Matteo? Although I have to say, I’m a bit disappointed not to see you in a hospital gown. I was so ready to commemorate the moment.”
I sighed, preparing for an exhausting conversation. At least the fucker wouldn’t have a photo of me in those idiotic hospital gowns with my butt hanging out. Small mercies.
“What the fuck are you two doing here?”
“Now, now, is that any way to greet your nephew?” Nikola drawled, the sound of his cane following behind him. Although, it sounded as if he wasn’t using it for every step he took.
“It’s certainly not a way to greet your friend,” Matteo piped in, dragging a chair forward. “But I can understand it when it comes to your annoying nephew.”
I chuckled. “Hello, you two annoying assholes.”
A gasp echoed, bouncing against the walls. “Did you hear that, Matteo? He fucking called us annoying.”
“I was more bothered by him calling us assholes,” Matteo said, although there was no bite to his words.
“Not me,” Nikola piped in. “I’m used to it.”
I scoffed. “So nice to see…” My voice caught, and I had to clear my throat before continuing. “Thanks for visiting me, you two.”