Page 82 of Saved By A God
“They went to eat something. They should be back soon.”
Throwing the white covers back, I get out of bed, and it has Enzo asking, “Where are you going?”
“To the bathroom so I can shower. I feel like roadkill.”
“You don’t want to wait for your mom to come back so she can help?”
I shake my head. “I’ll be quick.”
“What about the IV?” He rises to his feet, coming closer to me.
“I’ll manage.”
“Let me help you with getting the sweater off.”
Even though I appreciate it, there’s no way I’m letting Enzo help. I can’t risk him seeing the tattoo. I’ve just survived one hell and can’t face losing him as a friend. That would be the blow I won’t survive.
I quickly shake my head. “I’ll be fine.”
Just then, Dr. Milazzo comes into the room, and when he sees I’m out of bed, a smile spreads over his face. “You are the best patient I’ve ever had, Miss La Rosa. I wish all the others would eat and sleep the way you do.”
My eyebrow shoots up. “I ate?”
“You were out of it for the past three days,” Enzo explains. “But you ate every bite I fed you.”
“Three days!” My left eyebrow joins the right one real fast in my hairline. “You fed me?”
“And you ate everything.” A grin tugs at his lips, and it might be my imagination or the knock I took to the head, but I can swear his voice is seductive as he says, “Like a good girl.”
Rattled, my gaze flicks between the two men, then Mom and Dad come into the room.
We move at the same time, the IV line tugging on my hand and almost making the stand topple over, but Enzo catches it quickly and brings it closer. My legs feel shaky as I slam into my parents, wrapping an arm around Mom and another around Dad.
We all talk at the same time, so happy to be reunited, and when I burst out laughing, they look at me as if I’m some miracle.
I suppose I am, seeing as I’ve basically returned from the dead.
“I’m so sorry for the pain I’ve caused you.”
Dad shakes his head, his hand repeatedly brushing over the side of my face. “It was the fucking Russians.”
Mom turns her attention to Dr. Milazzo. “How is she today?”
“Medically, she’s stable enough to leave,” Dr. Milazzo says, his eyes moving from me to Enzo. “But that doesn’t mean she’s recovered. Her body has taken the rest it needed, and she’s keeping food and fluids down, which is good. What she needs now is quiet, safety, and familiar faces. But I’d like to see her in three days for a follow-up. I’ll do a house call so you don’t have to come in.”
“I get to go home?” I ask, but then it strikes like a lightning bolt, and I whisper, “I don’t have a home.”
My fortress is gone, along with my apartment and everything I owned.
Dammit! My favorite pillow.
All my retro clothes.
“You’re staying with us,” Mom says.
I love my parents, but I don’t know how I feel about moving back in with them.
“Or you could come home with me,” Enzo interjects.
