Chapter Thirty

Stefano

“What did they say about the knee?” Jacob asked from where he had perched his ass on the edge of his hospital bed two minutes ago.

“Torn meniscus.” Stefano grimaced and knocked at the plastic leg brace. The emergency room doctor at the local hospital a few hours from Savaneta had said it would keep his knee somewhat stable until he got Stateside.

“You must have taken a hard hit.”

“Yeah.” He gave a sheepish shrug. “Reminds me of my football days.”

“You played football?” Dark hair swept over Jacob’s forehead when he tipped his head curiously.

“In my senior year.”

“He could have been pro,” Rossi said from the doorway.

“Oh yeah?” Jacob said.

“No.” Stefano shook his head. “Rossi’s exaggerating.”

He might have gone on to play college ball, but his parents had been killed and life had taken him in another direction. The Army had not only given him a chance to focus, but it had also given him Rossi.

“Hey,” Barry said, slipping into the doorway next to Rossi.

“Barry!” Stefano said, croaking out his friend’s name. “I’m so sorry.”

“Nah.” Barry eased around Rossi and crossed the room to take his hand. “Don’t be. I’m glad that asswipe is gone. I’m only sorry that you had to get involved. I should have taken care of that a long time ago.”

Stefano gripped Barry’s hand tightly. “I have a feeling if you had taken on the drug lord, you would have been calling us anyway.”

Barry grinned. “Yeah, probably.”

His friend stayed and they talked for a few moments—making promises to get together before Barry waved, clapped Rossi on the back, and promised to call soon.

Rossi moved further into the room. Stefano’s heart lurched when the light scent of the man’s cologne drifted between them. Rossi had showered and changed into one of those sexy as fuck black power suits with a matching black tie. The man never left home without at least one suit.

A nurse followed Rossi into the room and kept throwing his man flirty looks from beneath her lashes.

The woman looked to be in her twenties. It didn’t surprise him at all; it had been that way from day one. Men and women alike were drawn to Rossi’s looks. Stefano never felt the need to be jealous because he’d never had a reason. While he had tried to date when they were separated, Rossi never had.

His love only had eyes for him.

Rossi paused before reaching the bed and slanted a look at Jacob. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Yep!” Jacob slapped his hands together, hopped up from the bed, and stalked toward the door.

“Wait! How’s Wild?” Stefano frowned at Rossi.

Jacob laughed and spun quickly around. “Other than a knock to the head, he’s fine. Doc says he’s good to go.”

Stefano huffed. “That’s good.” He figured Storm and Roscoe would be hovering like mother hens over Wild for hours if not days and weeks to come.

“Tell him I’ll talk to him soon,” he called out before Jacob reached the door, and the young man tossed a wave before disappearing through the doorway.

The nurse was hovering at the edge of his bed, fiddling with something on his IV. Stefano ignored her and returned his eyes to Rossi.

One side of the man’s sexy mouth quirked and very slowly, his eyebrows lifted. Finally, Rossi prowled forward with a slow stalking stride. Reaching the bed, his man leaned over, planted his hands on the pillow on either side of Stefano’s head, and lowered his head for a kiss.

Stefano obliged, lifting his face, and their lips touched. The nurse gasped and jerked away from the bed and hurried out the door.

Stefano’s lips tingled when Rossi eventually lifted his head.

“You sure know how to clear a room,” he said breathlessly.

“She was annoying me.”

“Poor baby.” Stefano brushed his fingertips over Rossi’s unshaven jaw.

“Let’s get you home,” Rossi said.

The private jet took them straight from Aruba to San Francisco before routing back to LAX to drop off Pegasus.

So, it was some eleven hours later that Stefano sat in his comfortable recliner, gazing at the newly lit fire in their fireplace.

The lights on the Christmas tree twinkled, casting a glow against the ornaments that reflected into the warm room. Christmas music played softly through the speakers he’d installed. Somewhere in the kitchen, the sounds of Rossi cooking drifted on the air, sending the scent of spices and chili into the living room.

They hadn’t spoken during the flight nor upon reaching home other than Rossi saying he’d whip them up something to eat.

Stefano was glad Rossi had stopped with the whole marriage thing. Never in his life would he have thought the man would propose in the middle of a disaster.

It wasn’t like they were even on a mission. Instead, they’d been taken, and that fear had Rossi all kinds of fucked up. Stefano got it; he really did. But truth? It fucking sucked so badly. He wanted nothing more than to be that man’s husband and had wanted that for them ever since marriage equality had rolled out.

“Babe?” Rossi’s voice jerked his head up.

“Yeah?” Stefano cleared his throat and adjusted the blanket over his legs, feeling the hard plastic from the brace. From the plane, he’d scheduled an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon for the next morning to see what needed to be done. After that, he would see about ordering in a special dinner and dessert for Rossi’s birthday.

Rossi placed a bowl of chili and a plate of cornbread muffins onto the small table that sat between their recliner chairs.

“Smells good.” Fuck, Stefano couldn’t remember being this hungry in a long time and tucked into the food with gusto.

Rossi did the same and it was quiet except for the music and the crackling of the flames.

With three muffins and the chili gone, Stefano returned to reclining in his chair while Rossi cleaned up the dishes. When the man returned to the living room, he didn’t settle.

Instead, Rossi paced. He roamed to the tree for a moment and then to the mantel over the fireplace where their stockings hung. The man’s long fingers caressed the knitted material. One stocking with an S, the other a G.

Fingers suddenly went thrusting upward through dark strands of hair, exposing the piece of surgical tape holding the slight cut on Rossi’s forehead together. Stefano noticed a few more tiny threads of silver that hadn’t been there a few weeks ago.

This whole ordeal had aged Rossi, and if Stefano were being honest, it had aged them both.

This was his fault. If he’d just kept his ass at home, none of this would have happened.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?” Rossi jerked as if his mind had been somewhere else completely and a furrow creased his brow.

“I shouldn’t have gone to Aruba.”

“No, you had every right to get the hell out of here.”

The breath caught in Stefano’s throat when Rossi swung around on him. His man was still in that power suit from earlier. Rather than take a shower and change, Rossi had gone straight to the kitchen after starting the fire and getting him settled. Everything Rossi did showed his love for him, and Stefano’s throat tightened further.

“I was so caught up in…” Rossi threw his hands up in the air, waving about. The move brought a smile to Stefano’s lips.

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” Rossi continued. “I don’t think I was thinking. I pulled you into a toxic thing with me and made you a part of my insanity.”

“Stop.”

“No,” Rossi whispered. “I love you. I love you more than anything or anyone on this earth. And now it’s too late. I let my fear fuck up the only perfect thing in my life and now you won’t believe me.”

A sheen hit Rossi’s whiskey-colored eyes and Stefano’s whole body went still.

They stayed poised like that for one long moment.

“Ask me again,” Stefano rasped, feeling his own eyes burn.

Rossi blurred through the tears. With a choking sound, Rossi lunged across the distance and dropped to his knees, reaching for his hands.

“Marry me, Stef.”

“Yes. I will marry you.”