Sweetest Sorrow (Forbidden Book 2) by J.M. Darhower Read Free Book Online Page A

anything from the English language, but it didn’t matter, because the nurse chimed back in without bothering to decipher what he wrote.
    “He’s lucid enough to communicate his wishes,” she said. “He seems of sound mind to me, which means he has the right to refuse care that he doesn’t consent to."
    “We received consent from the next of kin when he was brought in,” the doctor said. “We didn’t need his permission."
    “But you do now."
    The doctor cut his eyes their way. “Pardon me, Nurse Russo, but when exactly did you become a doctor?"
    “I don’t need a Ph.D. to spot an ethical issue,” she responded. “All that takes is a bit of common sense, sir."
    The doctor glared at her. Pissed . Dante could tell he had something he wanted to say, something that would probably drive Dante to rip the ventilator right out and throw it at the guy, but he seemed to think better of it, shaking his head as he turned back to the chart. “I’ll contact the respiratory therapist and we’ll start the process of weaning him.” He paused before mumbling under his breath, “If the patient doesn’t give a shit about his own life, why should we care, right?"
    Dante scribbled on the pad again, right on top of everything else he’d written, big, fat red letters, the lines bold: FUCK YOU.
    The nurse glanced at the pad, cocking an eyebrow as she cut her eyes at Dante, before she turned back to the doctor, smiling sweetly. “He's expressed his gratitude."
    The doctor had no response for that, waving them off as he walked away, the sliding glass door automatically opening so he could exit. Dante gripped hold of the crayon as he closed his eyes, his pain escalating. Just that little bit had taken it all out of him. He had a brief moment where he wondered if maybe he was making a mistake, if he were fucking up, but he didn’t dwell on it long. The nurse chimed in before he got lost in his head, her voice chipper as she asked, “How about a visitor, huh? You haven't really had any of them. Might do you some good to see a familiar face."
    Visitor .
    Dante’s eyes again opened at the same time the glass door to his room shifted open. He glanced that way, a swell of emotion hitting him, so intense his vision blurred. His heartbeat picked up in anticipation, the beep-beep-beeping of the machine chaotic, when his eyes fell upon his father. Primo Galante stood there, all stocky six-foot-four of him, dressed in a dark suit.
    It had been weeks since he’d last seen his father's face. He’d left the house with his sister in tow, never to make it back home again. Never to see his father again. Never to see his sister.
    His sister.
    Oh God, Genevieve. He still saw that innocent little girl every time he looked at her, the one he had done everything in his power to protect. The one who had inadvertently saved his life sixteen years earlier as she toddled through the gravel lot of the pizzeria, forcing him to linger so he couldn’t run after Joey like he so wanted to. The blast had just barely hit him that night. He’d been far enough away because of her that he'd remained somewhat intact. He owed his life to her, and it was a debt he’d never feel like he adequately paid back. He would’ve done anything for her. He had done everything for her. He compromised who he was, who he thought he needed to be, because she’d asked him to that night when he found out her dirty little secret, when he’d discovered the skeleton in her closet came in the form of a walking, talking Barsanti. It went against everything he believed, everything he thought… he ignored his gut and chose to give her a chance to figure it out herself.
    Because at the end of the day, he believed in her a hell of a lot more than he believed in anybody else, even himself.
    But it had been his job to keep her safe.
    “Dante?’ Primo’s voice was hesitant as he stepped into the small room. “You don’t even know how much it means to me to see you again, to see