Taking Care Of The Mobster

“Will you be here when I wake up?” he asks again.

“Yes,” I say with a soft nod. “Now, please try to sleep, Carlos.”

Carlos sighs softly.

“I can’t seem to fall asleep,” he says after a while. “Sleep...it’s hard for me.”

“Close your eyes,” I say gently and wait for him to do as I say. Carlos closes his eyes slowly. “Good. Now, think of a good place, it could be a favorite spot or memory.”

“There’s none,” Carlos says tonelessly. “Sleep takes me back to the dark place I come from. In my nightmares, I have no control. The demons are always waiting to tear me apart. For me, sleep isn’t a reprieve from the pain. It’s a path to its source.”

“But you really need to sleep right now,” I say with a sigh. “Surely, there must be something you like to think about.”

“There is,” Carlos says, opening his eyes to look at me.

“What?” I ask, almost eagerly.

“You,” he replies simply.

I swallow my surprise and sit up a little straighter. It must be the fever talking...right? And the skipping rhythm of my heart has nothing to do with the sincerity I read in his eyes...Not at all.

“I like to think about you,” Carlos continues weakly. “I thought about you all night last night.”

I bite my fingernails, desperately thinking of what to say. “Would you like me to sing to you?” I blurt out. “A lullaby. Beth sings for me whenever I have a nightmare, and it seems to work. I understand if you don’t–.”

“Yes, please,” he says, interrupting my rant. “I’d like you to sing for me, Abby.”

The way he says my name...I don’t know if it’s the low timbre of his voice or the exotic huskiness, but my heart skips a beat each time my name escapes his lips. I can’t even explain the strange feelings I have.

Carlos seems expectant, so I start to sing an old tune that my Mom used to sing to Beth and me at bedtime when we were little. His eyes hold mine, the sides of his mouth pulled up in a mysterious smile. I drown willingly in the magnificent pools of his stormy dark eyes.

He stretches out his hand, so it’s resting lightly on my thigh. “Hold my hand, Abby,” he says. “Please,” he adds when he sees my reluctance.

I’m not immune to the plea in his eyes. So, despite myself, I take his hand in mine.

He immediately weaves his fingers tightly with mine. We stay like that for what seems like a long time. And even when his breathing has slowed, indicating he has finally fallen asleep, Carlos still holds on tightly to my hand.

I place my free palm gently against his chest, consoling myself with its steady rising and falling.

And although he’s fast asleep, I continue to sing. I’m scared if I don’t, he will somehow slip back into that dark place he mentioned. It’s my job as his nurse to ensure that his pains are minimized to the barest level possible.

This, whatever it is...It’s just a part of my job. Right?

CHAPTER FIVE

Carlos

I take the stairs one at a time, holding on to the railings for support. I hold in the urge to groan at the consistent pain in my upper body.

My nurse has explicitly warned me to stay in bed, but the urge to look into those gorgeous, expressive eyes has won over common sense.

I crave the fire behind the nervousness in her gaze whenever she’s around me. I’m sure she won’t be pleased, and I can’t wait to tease the anger away.

Her eyes will flash prettily, then soften to a reluctant amusement. It’s only been two days since I met her, less than that really, but it almost seems like I’ve known her forever.

She calms my soul and stirs my body. It scares me, the depths of my feelings for this woman. Abby appears at the bottom of the stairs. She freezes when she spots me like she can’t believe her eyes.

“Wh...What are you doing?” Abby asks, blinking in surprise.

I start to take another step, and she quickly runs up the stairs to my side. She lifts my arm and places it around her neck, oblivious to how heady her sweet scent makes me feel.

“I told you to stay in bed,” Abby fusses. “You are not yet strong enough to be walking about like this.”

I let out a small groan, more from the fire ignited from the feel of her body against mine than the insistent ache in my chest. “My room is beginning to feel stuffy from having to stay in bed all day,” I say. “I just needed some air.”

“Your room is bigger than my entire apartment,” Abby says, rolling her eyes at me unamused. “How can it ever be stuffy? Wait. Lean on me. I’ll help you down the stairs.”