"She's going to be fine, you know," Gavin said, sitting to Matty's left. "We're talking about Genna with a G here. That girl is damn near as tenacious as her brother. They're like cockroaches."
"Gavin…"
"I'm just saying, it'll take a nuclear bomb to wipe those two out. I'm not worried about either one. Dante's like the Hulk. He probably couldn't kill himself if he wanted. It's that Galante blood. Hell, it wouldn't even surprise me if Primo walked through that door right now, still kickin'."
Someone entered then, and Matty glanced up. Not Primo, no, but close enough to be concerning. Dante. He stood across the waiting room, his expression stoic, nothing sympathetic about his eyes as they pierced right through Matty.
The guy hated him, no question about it.
He probably always would.
And that feeling was mutual.
Dante wandered over, still wearing a bloody shirt, earning him concerned looks from everyone he passed. A deranged look swaddled him, everything disheveled, his bloodshot eyes lined with dark bags, like sleep was just a fleeting memory. He dropped into the empty chair to the right of Matty, slouching and stretching his legs out, tilting his head back to stare up at the bright ceiling.
"I fucking hate this place," Dante muttered.
He was talking to himself, but Matty still responded. "So do I."
"Can I third that?" Gavin asked. "Thank God my father's being released this week so I never have to come back here."
Dante laughed dryly. "I said that after they released me and I've been back twice since. It's a fucking curse."
"Just when I thought I was out," Matty muttered, "they pull me back in again."
Gavin laughed at the Godfather III quote, while Dante closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's like summoning fucking Satan."
A grin touched Matty's lips. "You sound like your sister."
"You mean my sister sounds like me," Dante said. "I taught that girl everything she knows."
"Hence why she's so aggravating," Gavin pointed out. "Got that from him."
"Oh, fuck off." Dante stood to pace around, his gaze scanning the room, settling on the clock on a far wall. "How long has she been wherever the fuck she is? How long is this supposed to take?"
"Relax," Gabriella said as she approached, handing coffees to both Matty and Gavin before shoving Dante back into the chair. She dropped two white pills into his palm and offered a bottle of water. "Take this."
Dante looked at her. "Vicodin?"
"Tylenol."
"You couldn't find anything stronger?"
"Yes," she said, "it's called a morphine drip, which they would've been happy to give you had you not checked yourself out like this is just some motel instead of a friggin hospital."
Dante popped the pills in his mouth and took the water from her. He drank damn near half of it in one guzzle before grabbing Gabriella and drawing her to him. Instead of pulling her into his lap, he stood up, slipping around her, shoving her into the chair so he could pace again.
"True or false," Dante said, "the security guards are armed."
Gabriella glared at him. "I swear to God…"
"I'm not going to do anything," he said, shooting her a look. "I'm just wondering, if I burst into an operating room, what my chances of getting killed for it are."
"Some of them carry guns," she said. "So I'd say you've got a pretty good chance of being shot."
"Noted."
He paced a few more seconds before Gabriella jumped up, grabbing ahold of him, shoving him back into the chair so hard he winced. She dropped the bottle of water into his lap, pointing right at his face, close enough the tip of her finger jabbed the end of his nose. "You stay right here. I'm going to go see what I can find out. Ugh, if anyone around here is even still talking to me since I got fired."
Matty expected an argument from Dante, tensing as he waited for that famed Galante temper, but Dante just sat there, stretching his legs out and leaning his head back, staring up at the ceiling again.