Three Little Mistakes (Blindfold Club 3)

“I don’t remember how I got here,” Noemi said, her gaze scanning the room and returning to me.

“Do you remember the car accident?”

“No,” she gasped. “Is your overpriced car okay?”

It took me a second. “No, my car . . . you were in a cab. You don’t remember that?”

Her gaze dropped down to her hands in her lap and the medical bands around her wrists. “No. I remember being in class, and—that’s it. What happened?”

I took her small hand in mine, then explained it as quickly as possible, my fingers stroking hers gently. I told her what I’d heard on the call, how she’d argued about coming to my place, and how I’d pulled her from the shower. “I’m so sorry, Noemi.”

“For what?”

“I should have made you go to the hospital. And I should have fucking noticed something was wrong sooner.”

“Stop it,” she whispered. It was so unnerving to see her eyes at different pupil

ratios, but she was talking again. She sounded like herself. “What would have happened if you’d let me go home like I wanted?”

The thought had occurred to me soon after I’d taken a seat in the waiting room and I’d driven it away. “I don’t want to think about that. How are you feeling?”

“My head hurts. A lot.”

I cupped her cheek as delicately as possible, and used my thumb to brush away the tear that fell. Then, another, until there were too many.

“I don’t know why I’m crying.” She wiped at her face, horrified. “I can’t stop.”

“It’s mood swings. It’s okay.”

There was a brief knock and the doctor came in, a short, frumpy woman with a no-nonsense hairstyle and matching attitude. She went over the MRI results that didn’t show any bleeding, but wanted to admit Noemi for observation for at least another day until the symptoms were gone.

“Plenty of rest,” the doctor warned, then looked at me. “She’s going to have periods where she’s confused, or dizzy, or irritable. We’ll monitor the swelling and hopefully she’ll be back to full cognitive function in a week.”

“School?” Noemi asked feebly.

The doctor shook her head. “No. You need to give your body time to recover.”

Disappointment washed over Noemi, but if she tried to push herself with this, I’d make it an order. The asshole in me found the concept of spending a week in bed with her appealing. Maybe a little torturous, but I could deal.

The doctor left when all of our questions were answered, and I sat beside Noemi on the bed, waiting for the nurses to come move her to a room upstairs.

Her voice was soft and warm. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

I gave a sad smile. “I know. There are easier ways of getting my attention, little girl.” I leaned over the bed, ignoring the beeping machines that reminded me of a time I never wanted to think about, and set my lips cautiously on hers.

Behind me, the door swung open. I wasn’t about to let the nurse interrupt this moment between us. A man cleared his throat, and she broke off the kiss to glance at him.

“Dad.”

My lungs refused to work. The moment was inevitable. I’d expected him hours ago, when I could have explained to him privately, but he never fucking showed up.

“I was on my way to New York when they called, and I had them turn the plane around,” Rosso said. “This is the boyfriend?”

I watched her face as she smiled at me and then glanced to her father, and I hoped it wasn’t the last time I’d see her look at me that way.

“Yes,” she said. “This is Joseph Monsato.”

I rose and turned, my gaze finding him quickly. His mouth hung open and eyes filled with pure disbelief. All the emotions ran visibly through him, competing for dominance. Confusion. Anger. Fear. The perfect blend rose to the surface and his hands clenched into fists.