Page 112 of The Prodigal

It wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

“You should have told me what Tooney did to you!” he roars.

If we’re going to see who gets thrown out of this hospital first, I need him to know I came to win. “It was none of your fucking business!”

In a flash, Duke is standing in my face. “Everything about you is my business! I’m your father! It was my job to protect you.” His voice lowers as his hands tremble. “It’s still my job to protect you.”

I take in his stressed appearance, noticing his heavy breathing and bulging veins. He’s a hot fucking mess, but I can’t bring myself to reach out and hug him. Not now. Not when he’ll be able to miss it when I’m gone. It’s better he not ever know what it felt like to hug me. He can experience that soon enough with the new baby.

“Aw, you know better than to talk sweet to me, Dr. D.”

“Answer me, Remington, or are you the pussy?”

I almost laugh. “I handled Congressman Tooney. I had no need to tell anyone after that.”

“Youhandledhim?” Duke throws his hands up and yanks at his hair. “You didn’t handle him, Remington. Congressman Tooney died before you could get revenge.”

“Exactly,” I agree. “What did you want me to do? Go piss on his grave? I already did that. By the way, it didn’t make me feel better. It didn’t change anything. Nothing I did changed anything.”

“Therapy could have,” he offers gently. “You see the difference it’s made with Vance.”

That sounds great and all, but he’s forgetting two things. “My kidney would still be failing, even if I managed to find a job that paid a sixteen-year-old enough to live and see a therapist several times a week.”

What Tooney did when I was younger…the damage has already been done.

I will never be able to have two healthy kidneys and not be overwhelmed with fear, just by popping a pain reliever. Therapy might have helped, but by the time I found the Potters, I already knew what my future held.

I was going to die.

The least I could do is smoke as much as I wanted and take Albrecht out with me.

“Vance and I knew something was up when you decided to come to Georgia,” Duke admits tiredly. “But what I want to know is, when did you know that you needed a transplant?”

It’s the worst question he could have asked me.

It’s the one that pisses me off the most.

“Don’t do this to yourself,” I beg. “Pretty lies are easier memories than the vicious truth.”

All I’ve ever wanted to do was spare him and my mother from more pain. Our family has been through enough.

Duke sits and puts his hand on my leg, squeezing gently. “No more secrets, Remington. When did you know?”

“Promise you won’t tell Mom?” I’ve never asked him for anything, but I’m asking him for this.

“You keep this secret between us. I don’t want to cause her any more pain.”

Duke takes several moments to consider my request and the loyalty to his wife. “Okay,” he agrees. “I promise this stays between us.”

I nod. It’s better than telling them both.

“I found out I needed another transplant a month after Albrecht revealed that you and Ramsey were my parents.”

Duke makes a pained noise that I choose not to acknowledge. “You had a renal specialist in Texas?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

---