Page 29 of His Reward
“Is everything okay in here?” the voice of one of the junior nurses, an eager young omega named Johnny, pulled me from the intimate moment.
I stood quickly, but still held onto Lucien’s hand, even though he’d fallen asleep. “Yeah,” I answered. “It looks like it’s been an emotional morning for Lucien.”
Johnny gave us a sweet, sympathetic look. “Don’t tell anyone, but I heard Pietro Monteverdi saying that Lucien’s skating career is over. I’m really sorry about that. Lucien has always been one of my favorites, and I was sure this year was his year for gold at the Winter Games.”
“He’ll bounce back,” I said with more confidence than I actually had. “Give him time. They hold the Winter Games every three years, right?”
“Right,” Johnny said slowly, like I was kidding myself. “Well, let me know if you need anything.”
He ducked back into the hall.
I turned to Lucien. He’d fallen asleep. I guessed that he’d been given his meds shortly before I’d come in. As nice as it was to talk to him after all these weeks, I knew he needed as much sleep as he could get. Sleep meant recovery, and recovery was what my omega needed if he was going to climb that mountain to reach his goals again.
I kissed Lucien’s forehead one last time, then headed out of the room. I’d hoped for a longer visit, but now that Lucien was out of the thickest part of the woods, I was certain we’d have a lot more time together.
I didn’t want to leave the hospital to go back to the firehouse without saying goodbye to Lucien’s mom, so I headed for the family waiting room that I knew was at the end of the hall. Justmy luck, I walked in on Mr. and Mrs. Monteverdi in the middle of an argument.
“You can’t say those things to him,” Mrs. Monteverdi argued. “He’s still in a precarious position.”
“I was just stating the truth,” Mr. Monteverdi said, arms crossed. “His career is over. There’s no point in denying it.”
“You don’t know that,” Mrs. Monteverdi countered. “Lucien is strong. He’s always been strong. He’s fought his way back from injuries before. He can fight his way back from this.”
“From burns over fifteen percent of his body?” Mr. Monteverdi snorted. “Scar tissue isn’t flexible, Bea. He’ll never have the range of motion to compete at an elite level again. Skating isn’t just about muscle and jumps. The cameras aren’t going to want to look at someone with a singed head and half an ear on one side.”
I cleared my throat to stop Mr. Monteverdi where he was before my alpha got the better of me and I punched him.
“Lucien is sleeping now,” I told them, unable to keep my feelings about Mr. Monteverdi out of my tone. “I need to head back to the firehouse.”
“Thanks for coming, Bos,” Mrs. Monteverdi said with as much of a smile as she could manage.
“This is all your fault,” Mr. Monteverdi rounded on me, taking both me and his wife by surprise.
“Pietro!” Mrs. Monteverdi snapped at him.
“It is,” Mr. Monteverdi insisted, marching up to me and trying to intimidate me with his size. I was bigger than him, so the posturing did nothing. “How do we know you weren’t negligent when you pulled Lucien out of the fire?” he went on. “How do we know that he wasn’t perfectly safe and sheltered until you dislodged flaming debris on him or something?”
“Pietro! Be reasonable,” Mrs. Monteverdi gasped. “If it wasn’t for Boston, Lucien would be dead. Bos isn’t just afirefighter, he’s the chief of his engine company. The city gave him a commendation for heroism for saving Lucien.”
Mr. Monteverdi huffed and marched over to the counter with a coffee machine. “It was just a theory,” he grumbled.
“Then keep your theories to yourself,” Mrs. Monteverdi scolded him, moving to stand by my side in support. “I know you’re upset over Lucien’s injuries and the possibility that he won’t be able to compete anymore?—”
“His career is over,” Mr. Monteverdi spat back at her, grabbing the coffee carafe so hard I thought he might shatter it. “All that work. All those years I put into his training. I let Marco’s training go because I saw more potential in Lucien. Now I wish I’d stuck with it and made Marco the champion.”
My opinion of Mr. Monteverdi sank several notches. I was pretty certain his wife’s did, too.
“Marco and Lucien are more than just your toys, Pietro,” she scolded him. “They are our sons, men with their own lives and interests. They are more than the medals they win.”
“You’re not the one who put everything you have into getting them on that medals podium.”
“I’m the one who put my entire life into raising them to be happy, thriving people,” Mrs. Monteverdi said, poking her own chest. “I’m proud of the work I’ve done, and I will love my boys whether they win gold or decide to, I don’t know, get office jobs and live lives of their own.”
“That’s because you’re an omega,” Mr. Monteverdi scoffed, turning back to the counter so he could pour his coffee.
A beat later, he set the carafe down and straightened. He turned back to where I stood with my arm around Mrs. Monteverdi’s back in support and just stared at us. I didn’t like the light in his eyes from whatever idea he’d just had.
“That might just work,” he said, tilting his head a bit in thought. “That actually would make a great story.”
