The hospital smelled like antiseptic and artificial air, the underlying scent of anxiety that no amount of cleaning could remove.
Matteo sat on the examination table, shirtless, trying not to wince as the doctor's hands probed his ribs.
"Deep breath," the doctor instructed.
Matteo inhaled. Pain, but manageable.
"And out. Good." The doctor stepped back, making notes on his tablet. "You're lucky. Severely bruised, but nothing broken. I'll prescribe pain medication and an anti-inflammatory. Ice for the next forty-eight hours, twenty minutes on, twenty off. No strenuous activity for at least a week."
"Fine."
"I mean it, Mr. Romano. Your body needs time to heal."
"I understand."
The doctor looked skeptical but didn't push. "You're free to go. Check out at the front desk."
Matteo was pulling his shirt back on slowly, carefully when his phone buzzed.
Don Luciano.
Papa: Felix is in room 412. Dr. Morgan is with him now.
Matteo was moving before he'd finished reading the message.
