Page 102 of The Doctor's Truth

I keep it together for Otto.

It seems like we’ll be here at least overnight for observation. When I’m with him, I try to keep it light-hearted and fun. He’s uncomfortable. Kevin—he says—is being a bully.

The only thing worse than seeing your child suffer…is being helpless to do anything about it.

I wish Kevin was real. I wish I could call his mother up and unleash on her. I wish I could banish Kevin from our existence. I wish I could take Otto and run far, far away and leave Kevin stranded here.

But I can’t. Otto is in the hands of the doctors at Lighthouse Medical now.

He’s strapped into a dialysis machine, tubes and wires churning through my boy. Pearl sits in the chair opposite us, her nose in a Nora Roberts novel. I sit in the chair next to Otto and pet his dark hair back. “How’re you feeling, buddy?”

He lifts his arm, and IV lines follow. “Like a cyborg.”

I let out a small laugh, because somehow, through all this, he still has a sense of humor.

There’s a knock on the door, and I glance up to see a doctor I don’t recognize enter the room. She has a warm smile. “How are we doing?”

“Holding up,” I tell her. Otto gives her a thumbs-up.

“That’s what I like to hear.” She steps inside and shakes my hand. “My name is Dr. Esmeralda. I’ll be your attending doctor.”

“Oh—sorry. There must be a mistake. Dr. Donovan is our doctor.”

Her lips thin, but her smile remains intact. “Unfortunately, Dr. Donovan is no longer with Lighthouse Medical. I’m taking over his patients. Including this strong man here!”

“Hold on—what do you mean, he’s no longer working here?”

“Just that. He’s transferred to another hospital in New York.”

“Transferred?” Pearl balks.

“I can assure you, I’ve been through Otto’s paperwork, and we’ll keep him on track—”

I grab my jacket and sling it over my shoulders. I turn to Otto and say, “Hey, how would you feel if Grandma Pearl stayed with you for a bit?”

Otto nods. “Okay.”

I kiss his forehead. “You’re my strongest boy.” Then I turn to my mother and promise, “I’ll be right back.”

* * *

I interrogate Jason, but he knows nothing. He does give me the keys to their place, though.

Donovan isn’t home. There are some notes scribbled on a notepad though—the ferry departure times for today.

The wheels of the rental car squeal as I jet it down the road.

I’m beating the speed limit, but I don’t care. The next ferry leaves at 5:15.

It’s 5:04 now.

I swerve around cars going too slow. I lay on the horn. It’s a miracle when I pull up to the parking lot in one piece, the car spitting gravel under its wheels.

The ferry blows its horn. Last call for passengers.

I kill the engine and race out. I’ve left my coat, and the cold nips here, this close to the island’s edge, but I don’t care.

Because I see him. Donovan. Bag slung over his shoulders. Handing his ticket to the ferryman before trudging up the ramp. The wind kicks through his hair, which looks ginger blond in the light.

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