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When a person sits down beside me some time later, I fully expect to see Merc, but it’s not my tall, little brother.
It’s Jarett.
“How you holding on?” he asks in his deep voice, and I shiver.
“Okay. She’s in the surgery now. Just waiting.”
His hand searches for mine, grips it in a bruising hold.
It feels good, grounding me, and I smile at him. “How’s Mom? Where did you leave her?”
“With Merc. He called her, said he’s staying until the doctor is done with her, and then will bring her over here.”
“How’s her ankle? What did the x-ray show?”
“Still waiting for the doctor.”
I nod, look down at our entwined hands. So much I want to tell him. I want to thank him again, tell him again I love him. But I don’t. The words are lodged somewhere in my throat and won’t come out.
Time passes. He’s quiet, too, as he rubs his thumb in small, gentle circles on the back of my hand, his lowered lashes long and dark, hiding his eyes.
The fact he’s here, it means so much to me. It means everything. What I know about it, all my carefully collected clues, they don’t matter. With tonight’s gesture, he’s swept them off the table, ended the game.
He’s the kindest man I know.
And just like that, I find my voice again. “Thank you for finding Merc,” I whisper. “For coming here with me.” He turns toward me, and I notice for the first time that his jaw is bruised. I disengage my hand from his, lift it to his face, but he flinches, turns away. “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“You got into a fight?”
His jaw clenches. “I didn’t, Gigi. They started it and ended it.”
“Who’s they? Your gang?”
He says nothing.
What am I going to do with this gorgeous, stubborn man?
“How’s your mom?” I ask, letting my hand drop, my thoughts all over the place.
He flinches again.
Then he sighs, tips his head back, and in the harsh fluorescent light, I notice dark circles under his eyes. “Not so good.” He stops, and I think he won’t say anything else, but he rubs his face with his free hand. “Her short-term memory is gone. Most of what happened in the past few years, too. She doesn’t know who I am. She freaked out yesterday when she saw me.” His breath hitches. “She started to scream. The nurses had to sedate her.”
Oh no. “I’m so sorry.” I lean into him, slip an arm around him. “That sucks.”
He nods, his mouth unsteady. “Yeah.”
I don’t know how to console him. How can I tell him everything will be okay when it’s obvious it won’t?
“What’s on your mind?” I whisper.
“Death.”
I shiver and rest my cheek on his shoulder. “Do you remember your parents?”
“Yeah. They died in an accident, the same one that screwed up my knee. My brain probably, too. And then… then I was in foster homes for years, until Connor found me and decided to adopt me.”
