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“When was this?”
“Uh?” Rory’s mouth twists as if he’s experiencing another twinge of pain, so I resume massaging his leg. “About two, three years ago.”
I can’t believe he doesn’t know the exact date. If that had happened to me, the precise moment would be etched in my memory. I guess his world is very different from mine.
“And it still hurts?”
I don’t know anything about gunshot wounds, but I would have thought he’d have recovered by now.
“There was nerve damage, or something.” He shrugs. “I don’t know. I never saw a specialist.”
“Maybe you should.”
Giving me a look that suggests I’m being naïve, Rory shakes his head. “There’d be too many questions.”
I nod. A doctor would probably have to report a gunshot wound to the police. I guess Rory and his family use their own people when they get injured.
“What happened to the man who shot you?”
Rory lifts his eyebrows in a manner I’m already familiar with. He’s very expressive, saying a lot without even opening his mouth.
“Do you really want to know?”
Do I? Although I wonder how Rory handled the situation, I decide I’m probably better off not knowing what he’s capable of. I shake my head.
“That’s wise,” Rory says. “The less you know about my business, the better.”
He’s probably right. Although I am curious about what happens in his world, the small glimpse I’ve had of it is enough for me to realize I can’t stomach the violence that comes with being a Donovan. If Rory can shield me from that, it will be easier for me to live with my new situation.
I trail my hand up to caress the scar on the lower right side of his abdomen. It’s cleaner than the scar on his thigh. It’s surgical, I think.
“What happened here?”
Rory glances down to where my finger is tracing a line along the scar.
“That one’s from an operation.”
“Appendicitis?” I think the scar is in the right place for that.
“No.” Rory lets out a long, slow exhale. “My mother was sick. I gave her one of my kidneys.”
My jaw drops. “What?”
Rory shrugs, like it’s no big deal.
“She was sick for a long time. When her kidneys began to fail, the whole family got tested. I was a match.”
“So you gave up a kidney?”
Rory pushes himself into a seated position. His labored breathing tells me it was a struggle for him. I don’t like that he’s in pain. He leans back against the headboard.
“Don’t make me out to be a hero,” he says. “I did what any man would do.”
I’m not sure that’s true.
“Well, I think it’s pretty incredible.”
“So, what, you like me now that you know I donated a kidney?”
