Page 175 of Bad Blood

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.” Kline leans forward, his ear perked in my direction.

“Dr. Fields thought it would be in Liam’s file.”

“I don’t know how this got overlooked. It’s not our typical protocol. I’m not sure who made you your own chart.”

“What does this mean?”

I pass Kline the file over Liam’s lap, and he takes it. “You won’t be able to help Liam.”

“But I can’t do anything else. This was it. Am I supposed to sit back and watch?” I pull my hat from my head and rake my hand through my hair.

“He’s going to do fine after surgery. He has his own marrow.”

“I don’t know what to say.” This is low, even for Kline. Brighton was right. He’ll stoop to any level to have the upper hand. I give a sarcastic chuckle and shake my head. I’m not playing his games. This has to be wrong.

Kline looks at me with his brows knit together. “That’s what the blood test is for. We need to confirm the results.”

“That Liam’s not my brother?

“Or that he is.” The look I get implies there was no mistake. My heart races, a subtle tremor coursing through my body as the weight of his words hangs in the air.

I hang my head, worried about what I’ll find on Liam’s face if I look up.

There is something honest behind the insinuation, something that makes me question everything I thought I knew. The intensity of the moment is palpable, making it hard to breathe, as if all the air has been sucked out of the room.

“Do you have any aunts or uncles? Grandparents? Maybe they could donate.” His gaze is piercing, as if he’s trying to decipher every thought and emotion running through me.

“No, no one we want to have involved. Could we get an anonymous donation?” I stiffen, popping my neck from side to side. He’s not going to get the best of me.

“That isn’t best practice. We would only need it for standby. Liam can use his own right after surgery. He may not need it, but it doesn’t hurt to . . .”

Liam groans, dropping his head back. “I can call Gran.”

“No,” I say, hoping he hears the finality in my decision. “I want another test. This has to be a mistake.”

“I don’t know what to tell you. The two HLA tests show there’s no biological relation. Your DNA is not a match. There’s a new girl who doesn’t know her asshole from her elbow. She’s screwed up a couple of other things.” He shakes his head and continues rambling, but my attention stays fixed on this new information. Does Brighton know? Maybe this new girl is the one who’s making errors and her suspicion of Kline is misplaced.

“This is just a blood draw in place of the swab,” Kline continues, breaking me out of my thoughts as he directs someone in from behind the curtain.

“Will that make a difference?” Liam asks.

“It won’t hurt.”

A nurse with a plastic tote comes into the room, leaving the curtain skewed. She sets up her blood drawing station on the counter and pulls out a couple of tubes, a butterfly needle, and a long rubber tourniquet before greeting the room with a smile.

Liam starts up a conversation, but I’m too lost in my mind to catch anything the three of them say.

There’s no way the two tests are both wrong. But if they are, this was all for nothing. We wanted to help Brighton catch Kline in the act, and all we’ve succeeded at is ruining my life.

I lean forward, setting my elbows on Liam’s chair.

Results of this caliber were never on my radar, and I struggle to grasp the magnitude of what this means. I’m sure Kline gives patients bad news every day, but I doubt he’s had to tell them that the only family member in their life is not a blood relative.

“Siblings don’t always have matching DNA, right?” Liam asks as I stand from the chair, sending it sailing into the cabinet behind me.

“Correct, but they always share parts.” Kline gives me an uncomfortable glare of disapproval. “Unfortunately, there is no genetic match. There isn’t even a five percent chance of relation. According to these two tests, you’re not brothers.”

“Maybe the tests got mixed up,” I say as I sidestep Liam’s seat and snatch the file off the counter. “You mentioned a new girl?”

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