65
JOHNNY
Waiting is the hardest part.
We’ve faced half the battle. Claire’s best friend making it out of this with her life. But now, what will happen to Luciano? Will he survive, too? Is this what Claire felt like when she was stuck in a stupid hospital room, waiting for the outcome of my surgery?
Josey clasps my shoulder, forcing me to look at him. “He’s a tough man, give him some credit.”
“Yeah,” I mumble.
It dawns on me that Josey knows this man who happens to be my father far better than I do. Luciano is practically a stranger to me—one that sacrificed himself by going into battle against Franklin to save my ass. He easily could have stayed out of it, not charged headfirst into that building, risking his life in the process. Sure, there was already a war between the two of them, but like Miller had said, it’s been going on for decades; it could have easily waited for a few more.
His last words flutter through my mind—that he didn’t know. That he wasn’t aware I was ever created, let alone existed in the world. That he would have been there, had he known.
What would life have been like if I had an involved father? Would I have stayed out west? Gone east with him? Would I be like Josey or Miller? Would I be something similar to Luciano, or worse, like Franklin?
In a way, Luciano and I have things in common: our stubborn-headed need to do the right thing, and to help those that need help. The apple didn’t fall too far from the tree on that one.
But why wasn’t he aware? Why did my mom never tell him? She and I never spoke of the man who played a role in creating me, and honestly, I just assumed it was another one of the low-life idiots she hung around. I never asked questions, because I wasn’t totally sure she knew herself who my father might be.
And maybe she didn’t.
Things could have been so different if she did, though.
I’d like to think that Claire and I would have crossed paths at some point, regardless of what path we were on in life. I mean, hell, she lives in the same town as my father now. Perhaps we would have stumbled into each other on the street out in front of the café, and I would have offered to buy her a cup of coffee. Then we’d laugh over bumping hands while grabbing for the cinnamon shaker at the same time, and our love story would have begun there.
I would have found her, in any universe, in any lifetime.
And in each one, I’d know it was her with a simple look.
Even before we really knew each other, we were never strangers. There’s always been this undeniable familiarity between us. Like our souls met long ago, and our bodies were only just catching up.
Claire is the part of me that I never knew was missing until she filled the void.
“Hey,” she whispers softly. “Rosie is awake. Will you go back with me?”
There’s this sadness about her that tells me she needs me; I can recognize it easily because it’s the very thing I’m feeling, too. After everything we’ve been through, I don’t want to be away from Claire either, not even for a second.
“Of course.” I clasp her hand and follow behind the male nurse that came for us.
Rosie’s room is right off the hallway of the waiting area, which is right next to the one Luciano will be in if he makes it through surgery. He’s been in there for hours, and we still haven’t heard one way or another if he will survive. I guess no news is better than bad news.
The twenty-something nurse holds open the door for us.
Claire tugs me along, rushing to Rosie’s side. “Rose.”
“Cla—” Rosie struggles to speak.
There’s a bandage wrapped around her throat, and she looks like she could use a shower, but other than that, she’s very much alive. And considering the alternatives, I’d say she’s lucky. Franklin had no intentions of sparing her life, and had Luciano not stormed in when he did and started firing, she would have met the fate Franklin had decided for her.
“Shh, don’t say anything.” Claire drops my hand and smooths Rosie’s blonde hair back from her forehead. “I’m so sorry.”
The same words I’ve told Claire over and over for getting her involved in this twisted web of peril.
Rosie furrows her brows and tries to shake her head. She winces and pulls her hand to her neck. She sighs, clearly annoyed with not being capable of speaking freely.
“Truly, I never meant for you to get hurt.” Claire lets out a breath of her own. “I’m so glad you’re okay. That you’regoingto be okay.”