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“You needed surgery.”
His words drenched me in horror. The kind that was sticky and clingy and would take years to wash away. “What?” I rasped, not sure I even wanted to hear this.
Almost as if reading my thoughts, he said, “You sure you want to know?”
“I want to know everything,” I swore. “If it has to do with you, I want it.”
“I love you so much,” he murmured, the words making me buzz. “Even then, I loved you so much I couldn’t see straight. I would do anything for you, Nemo. Anything.”
My voice cracked. “Just tell me what you did.”
“The swelling on your brain wasn’t going down on its own. The longer it went on, the more worried everyone got. They said you needed surgery, and I couldn’t just trust the local surgeon.”
I swallowed, not trusting myself to speak. I had a very bad feeling I knew where this was going.
“My dad, he knows a lot of people. People in high places. He made a call. Got the best surgeon on the East Coast, someone who could do this kind of surgery in his sleep. He came and did the operation. You woke up the next day.”
All the air in my body escaped in one long exhale. My limbs began to tremble, and my knees turned weak. Squeezing my eyes shut, I asked the question even though I was afraid of the answer.
“What did it cost you, Max?”
30
Max
I never wantedhim to know this. I never wanted him to know about the deal I made with the devil to make sure he woke up. To make sure he stayed with me and Win where he belonged.
I rarely got what I wanted, and I knew continuing to keep this secret would come between us, and that was something I absolutely refused to allow.
It was just one more thing to add to the never-ending list of shit to hate the sperm donor for.
“What did it cost you, Max?” Wes asked, his voice wary and low.
“Nothing because it kept you here with me.” I truly meant it. There was no price I wouldn’t pay for that.
“Tell me.”
I shut my eyes, rubbing my stubbled chin against his shoulder. “A couple broken ribs. A mild concussion. Black eye. The usual.”
A strangled sound ripped out of him as he tore himself free from my hold. Chest heaving, he spun, staring at me through owlishly wide eyes. Stark pain radiated not only in his features but in the very air around him.
“He beat you?”
I shrugged.
“You let your father beat you so I could have an operation,” he repeated as though he couldn’t quite believe what I was saying. His eyes flew up, a spark of hope igniting in the depths. “Did you fight back at least?”
My lips rolled inward.
He groaned, the sound cutting me like a knife.
“No,” he wailed, reaching out to take fistfuls of my shirt. “Why would you do that?Why?”
“Because enduring a ten-minute beating pales in comparison to a lifetime without you.”
Something else dawned in his eyes. “Is that the real reason you stayed out of my room? Because you were battered and didn’t want me to see.”
I gave a curt nod.
