Page 81 of Saved By A God
“Yeah.” Enzo pulls his phone out of his pocket and unlocks the device to show me a video.
I watch as Tim runs up a short cobbled path, and when he opens the door, yelling something, a woman comes barreling toward him, tears streaking down her face while shock tightens her features.
My lips curve up when they fall into each other's arms, my eyes stinging.
This is why I worked my ass off. To keep that kid alive so he could make it home.
The relief filling my heart is one of the greatest emotions I’ve ever experienced.
Then my gaze snags on Enzo’s fingers, and grabbing hold of his wrist, my lips part with shock as I get a first close-up of the scars marring his skin.
“Oh my God,” I gasp, my eyebrows pulling together.
I rip the phone out of his grip and drop it on the bed so I can look at his palm, the back of his hand, and wrist, which are all covered in marks. Some are thin and pale while others are pink and raised, cutting over his knuckles and disappearing between his fingers.
His skin looks tight in places, shiny where it’s healed badly, and when my gaze moves higher, my stomach drops even more.
Burn scars stretch over his forearm, cutting through his Godfather tattoo. The ink is still there, but parts of it are warped beneath the damaged skin.
My eyes dart to his other arm, where I see more scars and burns.
A distressed sound escapes my lips as my eyes fly to his face. “What happened to you?!”
Enzo shakes his head. “It’s nothing.”
When he moves to get up from the chair he’s sitting on, I snap, “Don’t tell me it’s nothing! What happened?”
A smile spreads over his face, throwing me for a loop, then he says, “Fuck, I missed hearing you take that tone with me.”
“Enzo,” I groan, brushing my palm over his forearm. “Tell me.”
The smile fades as he looks into my eyes. “When I got to the fortress, it was just a pile of burning rubble. I thought you were buried alive, so I dug.”
My lips part as my face goes slack from shock. “You dug through fire? For me?” Once again, I take in his arms.My God.My voice is nothing but a croak as I say, “The pain you must’ve felt from the burns.”
My heart breaks knowing Enzo was hurt because of me.
“No, Rosie.” He grips hold of my chin with his other hand and moves to sit by me on the bed. “Don’t do that. I would’ve removed every fucking block of concrete with my bare hands if I could. I’d burn the skin from my body for you. Don’t blame yourself.” The corner of his mouth lifts. “Besides, I think it looks badass.”
I trace a pink line with my fingertip, then ask, “Does it still hurt?”
“No.” Enzo leans closer, and when he presses a kiss right beside my mouth, a breath catches in my throat and my heart skips a beat or two before scampering off at a wild pace. His tone is deep and filled with something I’ve never heard before. “Everything is better now that I have you back.”
Don’t read anything into Enzo showing you affection. He’s just relieved you’re not dead.
When he pulls back, I can’t make eye contact. It’s been a while since I’ve had to deal with the butterflies he gives me, and I’m not at full capacity to keep my heart on a leash.
I glance down and notice I’m wearing Mom’s clothes, the soft pink sweater I always tried to sneak out of her closet and comfy yoga pants.
My eyes widen, and panic shoots through me as I almost shriek, “Who changed my clothes?”
If it was Enzo, I’m screwed if he saw the tattoo.
“Your mom,” he replies, and the relief hits instantly.
Thank God.
“Where are my parents?”
