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I mutter a curse as I look up to see Conrad running into the Emergency Room. I climb to my feet, dropping the weighted blanket into the chair I’d just vacated. “What the hell is he doing here?”
“He has every right to be here.” Tom elbows me in the gut, and I grunt.
“Why? Why do you even care what happens to him?” I direct the second part at Conrad. “He’s pretty much ignored your entire existence.”
My words have the desired effect as he stumbles back as if I’ve physically attacked him, but I don’t feel as good as I thought I would lashing out at him.
“Jesus, Harley. What the fuck is the matter with you?”Tom spits out at me. “We’re all angry at the way Dad handled things, but that’s no reason to turn on each other. Conrad didn’t have to come. He’s got even more reason than us to hate Dad, so–”
“Boys,” Nurse Jackie says sternly. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but I will not have you causing a scene in my hospital.”
“Sorry,” I mutter, ducking my head.
“Right,” she says, looking between the three of us. “Your father is currently in surgery. I can only take immediate family through to the family waiting room.”
“That’s his dad in there, too,” Tom informs her.
She just nods and motions for us to follow her through the double doors and into the hospital. We follow her down corridors, taking this turn and that, until I would have no idea how to get back to where we were. She directs us into a small waiting room and tells us to sit tight, someone will be out to see us soon, before bustling off back to the emergency room.
“What’s going on?” Conrad asks.
I turn my back on him, stalking off to sit near the doors to the operating room. I lean my elbows on my knees, burying my head in my hands as Tom goes through everything he told me on the drive over here. Dad was stabbed multiple times in an attempted truck jacking at a truck stop just outside of Ballina. Another truck driver found him and called it in. He was rushed to the hospital in a critical condition.
The doors to the operating room shove open, and I climb to my feet as a harried looking surgeon comes through. He spots us immediately and says, “Family of Sam Breed?”
Tom nods, “We’re his sons.”
The surgeon’s face softens slightly. “Right, well your father is in a bad way. There was some internal bleeding which we’ve managed to get under control, however there is damage to his right kidney.”
“You can live with only one kidney, though, right?” Conrad asks, and I glare at him.
The surgeon nods. “You can, but unfortunately your father only has one kidney. According to our records, the other was removed due to blunt force trauma from a car accident about five years ago.”
Tom and I stare at each other. Dad had been in hospital for two weeks after the car accident that killed Mum, but we had no idea that he’d lost a kidney. We’d been too traumatised from losing our mother to even register what else was going on. Our uncle hadn’t been able to get up here for a few days, so Mrs Rossi had taken us in until then. We’d had to hold the funeral off until Dad got out of hospital, but neither of us had been in the headspace to ask questions. He was alive, that’s all that mattered at the time.
“So what does that mean?” Tom chokes out.
“Your father needs an emergency kidney transplant. We have him on dialysis and in an induced coma at the moment, but he is going to require surgery as soon as we can find a match.”
“Take one of ours,” I practically shout, waving a hand between me and Tom. “We’ve both got two.”
“I’m afraid it’s not as simple as that,” he frowns. “I mean, there is the potential that one of you can donate a kidney to your father, but you’re going to have to go through extensive testing to see if any of you are a match.”
“Do the tests,” I beg him. “Whatever you have to do to save our dad.”
THE HYPNOTIC BEEPING of the machines monitoring Dad’s vitals has lulled me into a restless sleep, but the murmuring of voices has me prying my eyes open. I blink a couple of times, my stomach dropping at the sight of Conrad and Tom huddled over near the window, casting surreptitious glances my way.
“You’re awake,” Tom says, running a hand over his tired face.
I shift in the chair, my muscles screaming at me both from the fight and the uncomfortable position I’ve been in for God knows how long. I move my neck from side to side, trying to stretch it out. “What’s he still doing here?”
Tom shoots me a filthy look. “Quit it, Harley. He’s family.”
I let out a derisive snort. “He may be blood, but he’s not family.”
“Check yourself, Harley.”
“No, you check yourself. He doesn’t belong here.”
