Chapter 80

“Luca?” he breathed.

“He’s in and out a bit.” Paolo—sitting with a book in the visitor’s chair that had become ‘the family observation chair’ as opposed to ‘the Luca interaction chair’—grinned, and patted Luca’s good hand on the sheets. “Hey, Luca. It’s Tav.”

“Tav?”

Luca’s voice was barely more than a croak, and Tav felt the hot burn of tears. His chest seized and he dropped his bag by the bed, caught by those half-lidded eyes and that vacant, bleary stare.

“Hey,” he whispered.

“Tav?” Luca repeated, and his fingers twitched under Paolo’s. “Y’came?”

“Yeah, I came, I’m here,” Tav said, and Paolo passed Luca’s limp hand to him. The wrist was weak and the grip feeble, but those narrow fingers were warm and familiar. “Hey.”

Luca frowned, blinking as if in slow motion. “Tav?”

“Yeah,” Tav breathed. He swallowed and tried to smile. “I’m so glad to see you.”