Page 110 of The Prodigal

“I understand you’ve had a horrific experience that no child should have ever had, but Remington, with the right treatment, you and your donor can have long and healthy lives.”

“You can’t predict strokes, Doctor.”

The doctor sighed, likely ready to stab Remington, too. “Just think about it, okay?”

The bastard I love shook his head. “I won’t risk anyone else getting hurt because of Tooney.”

I could have screamed at him then, but I didn’t. I simply shook the doctor’s hand and remained at Remington’s side, stoic and brave.

But I’m done. I’m so fucking done being brave.

“Don’t you dare cry now,” Remington snaps, turning his head away so he doesn’t have to look at the tears. “Don’t you dare try to change my mind by crying.”

I laugh, but nothing about this moment is funny. “Is that what affects you?” I suck in a small sob. “Tears? Will my tears help save your life? Because if so, I will cry every waking moment until there are none left to fall.”

I can be determined when I want to be. Let him remember all the times I pushed his buttons until he broke—until he gave in to what he really wanted.

“You’re scared,” I accuse.

He chuckles but still doesn’t face me.

“You’re not scared someone will have complications if they give you a kidney. You’re scared that you won’t know how to live this new life you have with your parents and a woman who loves you. You’ve spent your whole life waiting to die that you never once thought about how you would live it.”

That seems to get a reaction out of him. “You don’t know shit!” His jaw ticks in fury.

“Maybe I don’t know everything, but I do know what it was like to start over and figure out who I was all alone.” I reach out for his hand, but he doesn’t take mine. “The future is scary,” I agree, “but that doesn’t mean it isn’t wonderful. Don’t let Tooney take that from you, too.”

“I’m tired,” he says, looking away. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“You should probably get some rest,” I concede, climbing in the bed next to him.

For a moment, all he does is stare at me, battling whatever demons are running through his head. “Go to sleep, Remington. I’ll make sure you don’t need the closet tonight.”

Without another word, I close my eyes and just breathe.

I don’t think I can look at Remington any more today without breaking into a million pieces. Especially after he whispers, “I hope you know I love you more than plastic chairs.”

Remington

“If you’re going to go with the silent treatment,” I say, “I should warn you, it makes Eden horny.”

My father’s eyes drift from the dialysis machine and then back to my face. He arrived with Vance and my mother about an hour ago, but instead of being the first to greet me, he was the last, choosing to let my mother come in first and scream until she started sobbing. Thankfully, Vance escorted her outside before she could hit me or, worse, get something in my eye.

“Oh my gosh.” Eden pinches my arm. “You are being such an asshole right now.”

At least I’m not apitiful assholewho made her cry like earlier.

“Eden.” Duke says her name like he’s an awkward teenager and extends his hand. “Thank you for saving my son.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake, Dr. Dramatic. All she did was shove pills down my throat and yell. “Don’t worry.” I roll my eyes. “She didn’t breathe life into me—or however you tell the story. You’re still the fan favorite.”

Eden glares. “Maybe you should take another nap before I smother you.”

“You smothering me with your pussy seems like a much better way to spend my time.”

Red blooms across Eden’s face, and I’m reminded of another time when I left her cheeks pink. But fucking Duke kills the image in my mind when he speaks.

“Eden, will you excuse us for a second?”

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