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“What are you doing here?” Even I cringe when I hear her unpleasant tone.
“I’m here to see my brother,” Saxon replies sharply. “And I’m here because you need my blood.”
Kellie’s scowl transforms into a smile. “Oh, Saxon. I knew you would see sense.” She rushes over to him, throwing her arms around him. I don’t fail to notice the difference between our unions.
Saxon stands rigid, arms pinned to his side, while Kellie ignores his lack of feeling. Gregory strolls in a moment later, almost dropping the tray of coffees he holds. “Saxon?”
“He’s here to help Samuel, Greg,” Kellie exclaims, letting Saxon go and wiping the tears from her eyes.
Greg stands motionless, digesting what was just said. “Is it true, son?” he finally asks moments later.
Saxon nods with resolution.
I feel like I’m encroaching on a very private moment, but I don’t dare move.
Greg’s eyes fill with tears and in two long strides, he’s across the room, throwing his arms around Saxon. The embrace has my heart feeling heavy.
Saxon’s eyes lock with mine, but I can’t decode what he’s feeling. I know the last time he saw his parents harsh words were exchanged, but it appears they’re pushing those memories aside. But when Greg lets go, Saxon stands stiff, appearing unmoved by the reunion.
I guess time doesn’t heal all wounds.
As Kellie goes on to inform Saxon about the events of the past four days, he makes no secret that he’s openly staring at me. I silently move off to the side and lean against the wall, unable to tear my gaze from Saxon.
His strong jaw line is coated with a dark scruff, which seems to highlight the pinkness of his full, slightly downturned mouth. A small scar licks the curve of his upper bowed lip and I wonder how he got it. His nose is straight, evenly sloped, but his eyes are what I’m mesmerized by. They’re conflicted. They yearn for annoyance, but they’re not, they look relieved, and I can’t help but wonder why.
Realizing I’m staring, I pull out my cell and shoot a quick text to my mom, informing her of the latest news, including Sam’s muscle spasm. The thought has me sighing aloud. How long is Saxon going to stay? Now that he’s here, I don’t want him to leave. If anyone can pull Samuel out of his coma, I know it’s Saxon. They’re identical twins, for god’s sake. They’re replicas of one another. Surely he can sense what Sam is feeling. Surely he’s the one to bring my Sam back to me.
Dr. Kepler walks into the room, doing a double take when he sees Saxon. “The twin brother, I assume?”
Kellie beams, nodding animatedly. “Yes, Doctor, this is my other son, Saxon. He’s here to donate his blood. And also, an organ if needed.”
I don’t know if I’m just on edge, but Kellie’s disrespect towards Saxon irks me. He’s not just a walking donor, he has feelings too. His twin brother is lying in that hospital bed, comatose. I’d like to think that affects him just as it affects us all.
Kellie’s comment appears to roll off Saxon’s back however. “Just tell me where to go, and I’ll happily roll up my sleeve. The sooner I get this over with, the sooner I can leave.”
His remark churns my stomach. I need to talk to him; I need to beg him to stay. “I’ll come with you,” I offer a little too quickly. The entire room turns to look at me. “I need some fresh air,” I add, which is a complete lie.
Dr. Kepler nods, giving us instructions on where to go. As he informs Greg and Kellie about Samuel’s progress, or non-progress, I reach for my pink cardigan and walk out the door. Saxon’s heavy footsteps follow me.
We walk side by side in silence, stopping once I push the call button for the elevator. Thankfully, we don’t have long to wait, and I charge inside once the doors open. The silence continues on in the cart, grating on my already shot nerves.
I try not to make it too obvious as I observe him closely. So alike, yet so unlike Sam. Saxon has an air of confidence about him, a natural magnetic charm that have people turning heads the moment he walks into a room. But the thing is, I doubt Saxon realizes just how captivating he is.
“Thanks for coming, Saxon,” I say, needing to drown out the static. “I know Sam appreciates you being here. So do I.”
He nods, looking above him at the floors passing by, but doesn’t say a word.
“Did you have far to come?” I ask, deciding to pose a question so he has to speak.
He digs his hands into his ripped jeans pockets. The action has me tilting my head to the side, attempting to decode some of the obscure artwork inked on his arm. I can make out a queen chess piece. “I rode my motorcycle from Oregon.”
His comment has me lifting my head. “Oregon? Your dad said you were living in South Carolina.”
He scoffs, running the longer strands of hair through his fingers. “He has no idea about my life.”
I’m quiet, mulling over his revelation. “How long have you been there?”
“Over two years.”
