Page 158 of Bad Blood

I freeze, watching as she continues without me, creating a gap between us. She gets farther away, and my mind convinces my body to move the second she’s out of sight.

I race down the hall, around the corner, and slam right into her—crossed arms over her chest, scowl and all.

We tumble against the wall in a heap, her sliding to the floor, eyes wide with shock. I fumble over her, one arm next to her head on the wall, a leg in the air, and the other catching myself as I go down. I tuck and roll with much more flexibility and grace than I expected.

She starts to giggle.

“This isn’t funny.” I lie flat on my back, arms and legs outstretched like a star, staring at the ceiling.

“Quite the opposite,” she says through breaks in her laughter. She stands over me, offering a hand.

I drop my arm over my face, a grin spreading across my cheeks. That smile. Those eyes. She’s more heartbreakingly beautiful than I care to let myself remember.

She nudges me with her foot. “Come on.”

“Did you plan that?” I roll to my side, pushing off the floor in one fluid movement.

“You caught me,” she says with a smirk. She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, beckoning me into a conference room to our left. She pulls out the chair at the head of the table. “Sit.”

I obey without question, slouching as I cross my ankle over my knee. I tug at the bill of my hat and pull my lower lip between my teeth to ensure the smile that’s fighting to make an appearance stays tucked away and push visions of her eye roll to the farthest recesses of my mind.

We’re here to talk about Liam.

Liam. Liam. And only Liam.

She pulls out the chair next to me. “I want details.”

The memory of Liam on the floor. His eyes fluttering. The difficulty I had finding his pulse. I shiver at the visual in my mind. I lean forward, dropping my foot to the floor as I settle my elbows on my knees. “He said he’s done. Can’t keep food down. Feels like shit.”

“And he passed out.” It’s a confirmation of her suspicion, one she looks to me to validate. Our eyes meet, and she shakes her head. “What about the Enterade?”

“He doesn’t like how it tastes.”

“Do you remember what I told you?”

I lean forward, interlacing my fingers as I stare at the floor. “Word for word.”

“This is one of those things.”

I slam my fist against the table, and she flinches. “Do you know what it’s like to see him like this? Declining more and more every day. I’m trying. He’s trying. We’re here, aren’t we?” My jaw tenses. She is not the focus of my frustration and anger.

She sits in silence across from me. I’m scared to look up and find disappointment on her face. But she surprises me when her hand slips over mine, and she squeezes. “He’s halfway done.”

“He’s not okay.”

“I understand.” She hangs her head. “The last couple of weeks are always the hardest.”

“He wants to quit.” I gaze into her sympathetic eyes. I want to pull her to me, find comfort in her touch, and let her arms wrap around me to prove I’m not alone.

She stands and offers her hand. “But we’re not going to let him.”

“Easy for you to say. You weren’t there.”

“Look.” She drops her chin to her chest. “I’m your brother’s doctor. I didn’t want to bring this up, but it’s what’s best.”

“This can’t happen?” I point between us. “That’s what you’re saying, right?” I grab her hand and pull myself to my feet. Her grip loosens, and our eyes meet.

She nods, dropping her gaze to the floor.

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