Page 109 of The Prodigal

I didn’t realize his mom was pregnant. I wonder if her pregnancy somehow triggered his need for blackmail. Seeing parents who you never got to grow up with bring another child into the world and do all the things you never got to do with them can’t be the easiest thing to deal with.

Duke sighs. “She’s strong, Remington. She can handle a couple of stressful days.”

A shudder passes through me as Remington finds my gaze in a silent apology. “Not days, Duke. Months.”

“What?” I detect the fear in Duke’s voice. “What are you saying?”

Remington pinches his eyes shut and sighs. “I’m saying that if I don’t get a kidney transplant soon, I’ll die.”

This road trip was always more than blackmail for Remington. It was an escape from the vicious truth.

He’s dying.

“Call an ambulance and tell me which hospital they’re taking him to. Do not let him leave, Eden! I’m on my way.”

We arrived at the hospital several hours ago, and I still can’t get Duke’s voice out of my head as a sob escaped him before he was able to pull himself together and tell me what to do. Remington refused to speak after that. I don’t know if it was because he heard his father’s heart literally break from hundreds of miles away or if it was because he finally admitted what was happening to him. Either way, he’s chosen to retreat into himself.

“You know,” I tell him at his bedside, “your silent treatment is making me horny.”

For the first time since talking to his father, he smiles. “Maybe you should come closer so I can do something about it.”

I flash him a fake smile that he notices, which ignites his temper. “My condition wasn’t your business!”

“I didn’t say it was, did I?” It was totally my fucking business, but I’m going to let him get all the bullshit out before I lash out.

“You’re looking at me like you want to stab me for keeping it a secret.” He dares me to deny it.

“I might have lifted a knife from the cafeteria. So what? Doesn’t mean you didn’t piss me off about something else.”

It was totally this kidney failure secret.

He chuckles. “You’re such a terrible liar.”

I can feel the tears welling in my eyes. I don’t even bother blinking them back anymore. This whole time, I’ve stayed strong for Remington. I’ve played the bad guy by demanding to know each medication they’re giving him before the medical staff injected it into Remington’s IV. I even held it together when Remington set off the monitors with his rapid heart rate when they hooked him up to the dialysis machine.

I tried to be brave, so he didn’t have to.

And I’m tired of faking that I’m okay. “And you’re a great liar! You should have told me that Tooney ruined your kidneys with all those drugs he pumped into you for years!”

He laughs, but it’s hateful. “What difference would that have made? Even if you knew the aftermath Tooney caused,thiskidney would still be failing.”

“I could have helped you!” I cry. “We could have taken your medication on the trip with us.”

“It wouldn’t have helped.”

My lip quivers. “But a transplant would. Why won’t you agree to another one?”

That was the hardest conversation I’d endured in my entire life as I sat with Remington, holding his hand while the doctor asked him about the transplant list.

“No,” he had said, looking at the doctor. “I know the risks. I know what will happen to me without another transplant.”

“I read your file,” the doctor admitted softly. “I know your adoptive mother donated her kidney to you before.”

He wouldn’t even look at me.

“I know she didn’t do well after surgery.”

Remington snaps. “She had a stroke. Her not doing well should have been a headache afterward.”

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