Scarred, Shot, Still Standing

Tessa’s POV

The casino wasn’t far. He could get here faster than anyone.

But after what happened in his study… would he even bother answering?

I caught myself overthinking something so trivial. If he didn’t pick up, I’d simply call a cab. After all, I called Silas out of convenience, not out of expectation.

So I pressed his name.

Five rings.

Then—

“Have you reflected on your behavior earlier today?” Silas said calmly into the phone.

Something inside me shut down.

Suddenly, I had no desire to talk to him—not sure if it was desperation or realization settling in.

Silas’s tone sharpened when I didn’t answer quickly enough. “Jake said you left the house long before this call. Where did you go? What are you trying to do now?”

“Nothing.” The word caught in my throat before I forced the rest out. “I just wanted to let you know I won’t be going to the casino today.”

In the background, Amy’s voice drifted in. “Was Tessa mad at me?”

“This is between her and I,” Silas muttered. Then back into the phone: “Alright, if there’s nothing else, I’m hanging up. Don’t call me unless it’s an emergency.”

Click. The silence afterward was almost laughable.

I’d actually expected Silas to act like at least a friend. Ridiculous.

Maybe in his eyes, I had never been his equal—never good enough to count as family.

So of course he didn’t act like it.

I quickly called myself a cab.

When it pulled up and the driver saw me, his eyes widened. “Miss, are you okay? You look—God, you’re pale.”

“Please,” I whispered, my voice thin. “Take me to the nearest hospital.”

I nearly passed out in the backseat.

The pain in my side pulsed hot, then cold. Then hot again. Like fire and ice battling under my skin.

By the time they wheeled me into the ER, I could barely keep my eyes open. A doctor ran a few quick tests, frowning as he scrolled through the results.

“Miss,” he said, brows drawn tight. “You really should’ve taken better care of yourself. The stitches have torn open, and the wound looks infected.”

“Sorry,” I mumbled. “I didn’t think it was that serious.”

The doctor sighed and handed me a clipboard. “We’ll need to operate. Emergency surgery to remove the infected tissue. It’s standard. But we’ll need a signature—from you, or from someone responsible for you.”

I hesitated.

Tom was already in Italy, settling in.

“I’m alone,” I said quietly. “Can I just… sign it myself?”

The doctor looked at me for a moment, something unreadable in his expression. “No friends? Family? Partner? If you sign by yourself, who’s going to take care of you after the surgery?”

I smiled. “I’ll manage. I can take better care of myself this time.”

He paused, then handed me the clipboard.

I signed my name in one stroke. No hesitation.

Just get through the surgery, I told myself. Then walk out of this hospital. And leave Silas and New York City—for good.

…

The surgery went smoothly. The only downside? I had to stay in the hospital for at least three days.

Tom called a few times, checking in, asking when exactly I’d be arriving in Italy so he could get everything ready—housing, logistics, even food.

I didn’t want him to worry, so I kept it vague. Said something urgent had come up. That I needed to delay my flight to tonight or tomorrow morning.

“Are you sure everything’s okay, Tessa?” His voice shifted—soft, but serious. And whenever Tom got serious, I got nervous. He could always see straight through me.

“I’m fine, really.” I smiled, even though he couldn’t see it. I swallowed the pills the nurse had just left on my tray. “All that’s left is packing. I’ll be on the next flight to Italy today.”

Tom sighed. “Alright, sis. Just… tell me if anything goes wrong, okay? I hate thinking of you handling everything on your own.”

I promised him I would, and ended the call just as the doctor came in to check on me.

“The wound’s healing well,” he said, flipping through my chart. “I heard you’re planning to check out today—looks like you’re good to go.”

“Thanks, Doc.” I smiled, even though my side still throbbed beneath the bandages.

I signed all the discharge forms and gathered my things.

Back in the room, my phone started buzzing nonstop.

Silas. That was… unexpected. He hadn’t called in days.

And now—today—he suddenly decided to check in?

I picked up.

“Tessa, Jake said you haven’t been back to the house. Where have you been these past couple of days?” he asked. I could even hear a hint of nervousness in his tone.

I looked down at the hospital paperwork still clutched in my hand.

Then I made a decision.

“Come pick me up,” I said. “Oak Street. I’ll wait for you outside.”

“What are you doing—”

“I’ll tell you when you get here.”

Then I hung up.

I don’t even know why I asked Silas to come.

Was I hoping for pity? For guilt? Was I hoping he’d treat me better?

No. I don’t think it was any of that.

Maybe, deep down—despite everything—I just wanted a proper goodbye with him.

Since he called, why not say goodbye—especially since I’m leaving today anyway.