The Woman in the Wrong Place (Grassi Framily)

“Josie?” Matteo’s voice met my ear.

And I just… cracked.

It was like something split me right down the middle and everything started to pour out.

“Baby?” he asked, sounding suddenly serious. “What’s the matter? What happened?” he asked as I sobbed into the phone.

“I… he…” I choked out.

“Who? Did someone do something to you?” he asked.

“At work,” I managed to get out as the tears started to pour down my cheeks.

“Someone hurt you at work?” he clarified. “Where are you? Are you there?”

“Hospital,” I told him.

“Okay. I’m on my way, okay? I will be there in five minutes. Five minutes, okay? Just hold on,” he urged.

The line went dead and I cradled the phone to my chest as the waves of fear and pain and shock and uncertainty assaulted my system at once, leaving me too overwhelmed to do anything but let them move through me, get out of me.

He said five minutes.

And maybe that was all it was.

But, God, it felt so much longer all alone in that bed with no one to hold my hand and tell me I was going to be okay.

I never really felt as alone as I did right then. With no family. With no friends close enough that I wanted to burden them with this version of me.

The door burst open, then, though, and I could hear a nurse loudly objecting to him coming into my room, but he ignored that completely as he stepped inside and his gaze landed on me.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his eyes going sad, his shoulders slumping. “Oh, baby,” he said, tone low as he moved forward toward me.

“I know it’s ugly,” I said, closing my eyes, but even with them closed, more tears managed to escape and slide down my cheeks.

“You could never be ugly,” he insisted as his finger gently wiped one of the tears away. But not the other. Because that cheek had a nasty cut from where my face scraped against the pavement. “They’ll pay for this,” he added, voice low, but savage. It was a dark vow.

And I should have been horrified at the idea of vigilante justice.

At that moment, though, scared and hurting, I could find no sympathy at all for my attacker.

“Good,” I said, eye opening back up. “It really hurt,” I added, watching him through a watery eye since my other one had finally given up the fight against the swelling and stayed shut.

“I know, baby, I know,” he said, his hand landing softly on the side of my neck, one of the few places that wasn’t a bruised mess. “Are you hurting now?” he asked, and I swear he looked ready to do battle with the entire hospital staff for pain medicine if I said yes.

“No.”

“Okay. Good. What do you need from me? Do you need me to call anyone? Mom? Sisters? Boyfriend?”

“I don’t… I don’t really have anyone,” I admitted, gaze slipping away.

“Hey,” he said, waiting until my gaze slid back to him to continue. “You have me.”

“You don’t have to stay,” I insisted. “I just… I had to tell you. They were inside,” I added.

“Shh. It doesn’t matter. We don’t have to talk about it right now.”

“They were in your office,” I told him, knowing that he did need to hear it despite what he was saying. “Cara had to leave. Her daughter was sick. I was locking up. And they were in your office.”

“Baby… it’s okay. We can talk about it some other time.”

“There were two of them,” I pressed on. “Only one of them did this,” I said, waving at myself. “He… he pushed me from behind when I was running. When I fell…” I said, taking a slow, deep breath that made my ribs scream a little.

“Ribs?” he asked, letting his hand touch the area, but not actually put any pressure down.

“Yeah. He kicked me,” I said, watching as Matteo’s jaw went so tight that a muscle started to tick there. “The doctor said they’re bruised, not broken.”

“That’s good. It really doesn’t feel any better, but it will heal faster,” he told me.

“You’ve had yours broken?” I asked.

“I got into scuffles a lot as a kid,” he admitted, but I was finding it hard to imagine someone as laid-back as he was getting into fights. “What else did the doctor say?” he asked, resting his hand on my wrist.

“They did some scans,” I told him. “They want to make sure I didn’t have a concussion,” I added. “Nothing is broken. It really felt broken,” I admitted, feeling my lower lip wobble a little. “But it’s good that it’s not. I lost a tooth, though. Back here,” I added, pointing toward the back of my mouth. “Wisdom tooth. I’ve been meaning to get it out. I guess this saved me a trip.”

“You don’t have to make light of it, baby. It’s okay to be upset. This must have been terrifying. I’m so sorry.”