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“Thank you, Doctor,” I manage to say, my voice thick with emotion.
“Of course,” he replies. “I’ll leave you three to visit. She’s been asking for you.” I nod and watch him leave, only for Leone’s grip to grow tighter.
Turning back to Marcus, I smile sadly, staring down at the woman in the wheelchair. “Is this your sister?”
I give her a friendly smile, slightly taken aback by her state.
The occupant—a woman—clutches at a doll, her hair a tangled mess, clothing stained. She’s not just unkempt; she’s lost somewhere dark. I step closer, and his sister’s gaze snaps to mine. A guttural sound escapes her lips, and her hand shoots out, gripping my arm with surprising strength. Her touch is cold, and her eyes are wild, seeking something I can’t give.
“Sorry,” Marcus’s voice is soft, apologetic as he gently pries her fingers off me. “She had an episode last night. I—I need to take her back to the psych ward.”
“Is she...” The question dies on my lips as I take in the scene. His sister, so far gone, and Marcus, the man bound by blood and duty to care for her.
He runs a hand through his hair, looking overwhelmed. “She’s been a handful,” he tells me.
“And fighting treatment, it’s one thing dealing with her health issues, then her mental health on top,” he sighs heavily, brushing her hair from her face, but she lashes out at him. He presses his lips in a line, looking frustrated but exhausted, like he hasn’t slept much.
“Hey, it’s okay,” I tell him, though my words feel hollow. “You’re doing everything you can.”
His grateful smile doesn’t reach his eyes, and I’m reminded of how closely pain and love are intertwined. Leone’s presence feels suffocating and yet oddly protective.
“Let’s go see Emma,” Leone says, his voice low, pulling me away from Marcus’s private hell. But even as we walk toward my sister’s room, the imprint of the woman’s dirty fingers remains on my skin, and Marcus’s haunted expression lingers in my mind.
“Hey, little bird.” My lips curve into a smile, but it’s Leone’s surprise visit that makes my heart throb painfully. “Leone brought me to see you.”
Hugging Emma, I feel a hand on my shoulder. It’s strong and firm—Dad’s grip, guiding me away for a hug. Emma tries reaching for her art book, but Leone reaches for it, passing it to her, and she asks if he wants to see. He nods, sitting on the edge of her bed as she excitedly shows him her art pieces.
“Fallon,” Dad whispers urgently as he crushes me against him. “Marcus came looking for you... he wants to help us.”
“Help?” I whisper, glancing at Leone, but Emma has him completely distracted.
“Let him.” His eyes are heavy with worry, the weight of secrets adding lines to his already worn face.
“Of course,” I murmur, the possibilities churning in my mind. The idea of escape flickers like a candle in the wind—fragile but alive.
Pulling away from Dad’s crushing hug, I say, “Dr. Stevens said she’ll be discharged earlier than expected.”
“Yes, I have been preparing the house for her return.”
I stare at my father and see the hidden meaning of his words, he’s getting ready to flee with her.
“Have you got everything she needs?” Leone asks, and my father turns, looking at Leone, and so do I.
Turning back toward Leone’s towering figure, I notice he’s absorbed in Emma’s art book, his usual hard edges softened by her innocence. He doesn’t even lift his gaze at his question.
“Yes, Leone. You’ve done more than enough. She has everything she needs, thanks to you.”
Leone only offers a nod. Yet, that help comes with a price, one hopefully she never finds out about.
“Because of Fallon,” Leone adds, and I bite my lip, but Emma is too excited about his interest in her art book to hear the hidden meaning in his words. My father swallows guiltily, retaking his seat, but I am busting to use the bathroom since Leone bought breakfast on the way after the incident with Dante, and I drank an entire bottle of juice on the way here.
“Leone, I need to use the ladies’ room,” I say, hoping my voice doesn’t betray the adrenaline now coursing through my veins.
He barely glances up, just checks his watch, and flicks two fingers at me. I know the hidden meaning of his actions. You have two minutes before I hunt you down. I nod, slipping out of the room.
I move down the corridor to the restrooms. Quickly peeing, I move to the sink basin, not wanting the humiliation of Leone dragging me out if I am a second late.
I lean over the sink, splashing cold water on my flushed cheeks. The coolness steadies me, but nothing prepares me for the door bursting open. I half expect it to be Leone.
