“Why?” He stared up at me from his position on the bed, his head on the pillow.
“I don’t want to hurt you. You know, accidentally roll onto your arm or kick you…stuff like that.”
“No offense, baby. But you just don’t weigh enough to inflict any damage.” He patted the spot beside him. “And I’d sleep a lot better with you next to me.”
I didn’t want to deny him what he wanted, so I closed up the house, turned off all the lights, and then got into bed beside him. It was so nice to sleep in a bed again, the bed I used to sleep in all the time. The mattress was exactly as I remembered it, the sheets so soft. My head fell onto the soft pillow, and I turned to him, the covers pulled to my shoulder.
He stayed on his back but turned his head my way, like lying on his side was too much for him because of the injuries to his abdomen. But he reached out his hand to me, his fingers resting on mine. Then he stared at me, gazed at me with heavy eyes, like he was fighting the pain medication to stay awake, to continue to look at me. “When I saw your face, I thought I was hallucinating…”
I’d thought I was hallucinating too.
“And when I heard your voice, I thought I’d already died and gone to heaven…which didn’t make sense because there’s no way I’d ever make it through the gates unless I broke in. But your voice…it could only belong to an angel.”
My fingers gave his a gentle squeeze.
“What changed your mind?”
There was nothing that changed my mind. Balto’s words hadn’t made me feel different. My father’s wisdom hadn’t either. “Seeing you like that…”
His eyes softened. “Yeah, I know the feeling.” His eyes closed and he sighed, but he forced them open again, like he was trying to stay awake.
“Babe, go to sleep.” The more rest he got, the better.
His eyes stayed closed his time, but his lips rose in a smile. “Babe…I like it when you call me that.”
I stood in the kitchen as I made lunch, making lasagna and a Caesar salad, busting out YouTube as I tried to learn how to cook. I couldn’t just keep making the same five recipes since he needed better nutrition right now.
The downstairs doors opened and closed, and then Balto came up the stairs a moment later. “Something smells good.”
“Lasagna. Want to stay for dinner?”
“No. My wife cooks.”
I thought it was cute he referred to Cassini as his wife, even though I’d already met her and knew her by name.
I opened the oven door and pulled out the pan before I set it on the stove.
“How is he?”
“Better.”
He stopped at the kitchen counter and looked into the living room, where the TV was on for background noise.
“The past week was rough for him, just like you said it would be. But lately, he’s been making jokes, smiling, being himself. It’s really nice to see.” I stopped at the stove, staring at the lasagna as I felt the emotion catch in my throat.
Balto turned his stare on me. “You saved him, Catalina. You could have walked out of there or pulled the trigger yourself—but you didn’t.”
“I know, but still…”
“Heath doesn’t hold it against you…and I don’t either.”
“Really?” I whispered. “I expected you to hate me…” I pulled the foil off the top of the pan so the steam would rise from the melted cheese.
“No. You were there when it mattered.”
I still couldn’t look at him, too emotional to meet the gaze of someone I loved. Balto was the image of Heath when he was healthy, so it was hard to look at him, to see how Heath should look right now.
Balto came to my side and placed his hand on my shoulder, giving me an affectionate squeeze, a gentle embrace. Then he released me and turned away.
Heath came down the hallway, walking slower than usual, in his sweatpants and a t-shirt, wearing clothes to hide his injuries from me. “I thought I heard an asshole in my house.”
Balto turned around and faced his brother. “You must be feeling better.”
He took his time walking to the kitchen, his eyes on me instead of his brother. But when he came close to Balto, he directed his gaze to him.
I turned away because it was the first time I’d seen him get out of the bed and move freely, able to carry himself without being crippled by pain. I stared at the lasagna, slicing it into squares just so I had something to do to keep my face straight.
“Thanks for everything, especially the drugs. That shit does wonders.”
“Yeah, I’ve been there.” His brother clapped him on the back lightly. “I’m glad to see you on your feet again…even though your face still looks like an inflated balloon. I’m surprised Catalina has stuck around when you aren’t so pretty anymore.”
“That was never why she stuck around.” He waggled his eyebrows before he walked over to me. “What’s for dinner, baby?” He was right beside me, so he could easily see what I made, but he seemed to talk to me on purpose, to get my mind out of the dark place it’d fallen.
“Lasagna.”
His arm moved around my waist, and he pressed a kiss to my temple. “Smells good.” He turned to his brother. “You want to stay for dinner? There’s just enough for the three of us.”
“Just enough?” I asked incredulously.
“You forget how much grown men eat.” Heath grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water from the refrigerator.
“Cassini already has dinner in the oven. I just came by to drop off a few things.” Balto leaned against the counter and stared at his brother.
Heath turned around, mimicking his posture against the other counter.
Did they want to talk in private?
Balto crossed his arms over his chest. “Everything at the Underground is fine.”
“You fooled them?” He drank from his glass, only drinking water because his usual booze was off-limits.
Balto nodded.
“Wow. I’m not sure if that’s complimentary or insulting…”
“How do they not spot the difference?” I shoveled the food onto plates then added the salad. “Balto doesn’t have tattoos.”
“I only wear long sleeves,” Balto answered. “Good thing it’s cold outside.”
“I think I’ll be ready to get back in a couple weeks,” Heath said. “I just—”
“A couple weeks?” I asked incredulously. “Try a couple months.” I carried the plates to the table. “And sit down.” I pulled out the chair. “You shouldn’t be standing so much. You should only be resting.”
Heath turned back to his brother. “Bossy, huh?”
“Cassini is bossy too.”
“I guess we have the same type.” He held up his glass before he walked to the chair and lowered himself onto the cushion.
“I can handle things for as long as you need.” Balto came to his chair and placed his hand on his shoulder. “No rush.”
Heath shook his head. “I know you hate every second of it. Cassini too.”
Balto dropped his hand. “Yes. But it’s temporary. And it’s for you.” He looked at me and nodded in goodbye before he left.