“Va bene. Va bene. Respira, Argento. Respira. Shhhh.” I want to smash my fist into his face, just like I smashed it into the car window. Instead, when he takes a slow, obvious step toward me, I fall into his arms and bawl into his chest. His arms wrap around me tight, and for the first time since that night in Leon Wickman’s bathroom, I cry as I am held.
