Page 110 of The Consequences of Love and Vengeance

“Fine,” he grits out. “Call me if you need anything and you better be prepared for IA to be there. You’ve pissed Tom off. He’s going to be hell-bent on canning your ass.” With those last words, he leaves, leaving me with only my dad and Drago.

“D,” I whisper. “I don’t know where to start to explain it all.”

Somewhere along the way, I fucked up, and I’m not even talking about my job. I should never have gotten personal with Drago, but even as that thought comes to me, I know I never stood a chance keeping everything on a professional level. For whatever reason, I was drawn to him from the start and I should have laid it all out, telling him everything, not just pieces by leaving Gabriel out.

“How about the facts? That’s a start.” His tone is defensive and it’s understandable, but knowing that doesn’t stop the wedge that’s seeping between us.

“Your case fell into my lap when a woman dropped Gabriel off at the police station the night I happened to be on-call. She made vague accusations and that’s how it all started. She made claims that she and her baby weren’t safe—from you.”

His eyes are darting everywhere, so I’m not able to get a read on him.

“I’m not following,” my father says.

“Dad.” I look over. “Please stay out of this.”

“So.” Drago backs away from me. “You’ve had that kid in your care for”—his head shakes from side to side—“how long? And you’ve thought from the beginning he was mine, right?” He doesn’t give me a chance to respond. “You should have told me from the first time we spoke. You should have said something, Bri.”

“D,” I call out, but he holds up his palm, stopping me as his head shakes again.

“This has fucked-up written all over it. He’s not my kid, for the record.” He takes another step away, making me swallow hard because I know what’s coming. “I’m out.”

“Drago,” I try to stop him with my voice since I can’t readily jump out of bed to go after him, but it falls on deaf ears. He leaves, exiting my room without looking back.

“What on earth have you gotten mixed up in?” my dad asks.

“Ahh!”

Fuck it all to hell.

I might as well lay it all out for him. I need advice, and even if it’s from him, I’ll take it. At least I know he’ll give it to me bluntly. That’s something I’ve always known I could count on from him. He tells it like he thinks it, and he doesn’t care whose feelings get hurt in the process. He has no filter or no fucks to give.

So, I tell him. I pour my heart out to my dad for the first time in my life.

* * *

When I wake up,the hospital room is dim. Only the light in the bathroom shines through the crack in the door. When my father finally left, I cried for the first time, allowing myself to feel every emotion I kept hugged to my chest. They didn’t stay trapped long once I let the floodgates lift.

I cried until I wore myself out. I thought the tears would’ve eventually stopped, but that “cry until you can’t cry anymore” isn’t real. They kept coming until I passed out from exhaustion. Even now, if I allowed myself, they’d want to breach the surface again.

I don’t want to cry anymore. I don’t want to feel this way anymore. I shouldn’t feel this way to begin with and I don’t understand why I do. My emotions don’t make any sense to me. I’d understand them if I’d been connected with the baby I carried unknowingly for seven weeks.

How can you miss something you never knew you had?

How can you want it back so badly when its existence wasn’t known until it was no more?

And Gabriel... my sweet Gabriel.

He isn’t even mine, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting him back. The restless nights, the non-stop crying that first night, I’ll take it. I’ll take it with open arms if I can hold him again.

Blinking my thoughts away, I turn to face the other side of the room, only to wince at the onset of pain that follows my movement. I can’t even tell you if it’s from my bruised ribs, being shot, or...

I stop my brain, steeling myself from fully thinking the one thought that could potentially break me. I will not cry again. I am stronger than this, and if I’m going to get out of here and locate Gabriel, I have to gather all the strength I have and not let the results of what happened to me weaken my drive.

When I open my eyes, easing onto my side the rest of the way, I see him—Drago.

He’s lying on his back on the small couch next to the window, his arms folded behind his head with his eyes open, staring at the ceiling. I don’t have to look up to know he’s not interested in anything up there. He’s thinking—maybe lost in thought because he’s deathly still.

It makes me nervous. This is a first for me around him. I’ve never experienced anxiety until this moment. Right now, my stomach is breaching my closed throat.

---