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I pick up a phone in the hallway and call downstairs to the OR. “Stop prepping Otto Stratton,” I tell the nurse. “The transplant is canceled.”
“No. It’s not.”
From nowhere…there’s Donovan. I blink, because he must be a mirage. He’s a fucking sight for sore eyes, tucked away in his leather jacket and black pants. Hair messy. Soft, dark eyes.
I want to hug him. I want to kiss him. But I don’t.
I just got finished cutting one toxic person out of my life. I’m not about to let a second one in. And right now, Donovan is a big question mark.
“Donovan.” I keep my voice even as I put down the phone. “What are you doing here…?”
“Keep prepping Otto,” he repeats, confident. “Surgery is on.”
I clench my jaw. Of course he’s going to fight me on this. “I don’t know if you remember…but you left. Pretty dramatically. You’re not his doctor anymore.”
“You’re right. I’m not.” Then he lifts his arm. There’s a plastic hospital band loose around his wrist. “I’m his kidney.”
83
Kenzi
“Goodness, it takes the doctors a long time to do things, doesn’t it?” Pearl says. “They tell you that they’ll be right back, and then thirty minutes later…you’re still waiting.”
She digs into her purse as though she’s looking for something, huffs with exasperation, and then folds her hands neatly back into her lap.
Pearl, Otto, and I are tucked away into an exam room together. Waiting. We’ve been here maybe ten minutes, but it feels like ten hours.
I pull out my phone and shoot Jason a text:
[Me:] What’s going on? Are we doing the transplant today?
[Me:] Anxious minds want to know.
It doesn’t take long before my phone vibrates in response:
[Jason:] We’ve gotta talk
[Jason:] Come to room 204
[Jason:] Just you
I tuck my phone into my pocket and get up from the chair. Otto is sitting on the exam table, his legs swishing, and I run my fingers through his messy hair. He needs a trim.
“I’m going to step out for just a minute. Do you need anything?”
“A kidney?” he asks hopefully, putting on a cheese-smile.
“I’ll see if they have one in the vending machine.”
He gives me a double thumbs-up. Morbid humor is the best we can do right now to keep everyone’s spirits alive. I press a kiss to the top of his head and dip out of the exam room.
I have to retrace my steps a couple of times to get where I’m going—after spending so much time in the pediatric center, I forget how enormous Lighthouse Medical actually is. I have to cross a bridge between buildings and finally find a room labeled 204.
It looks like an exam room, and I’m not 100 percent sure I’m in the right place, so I knock lightly first.
“Come in,” I hear from inside. I crack open the door.
And he’s there. Not Jason. Donovan. He’s sitting on the table, slumped into his leather jacket, but he straightens up when he sees me, looking just as surprised to see me as I am to see him.
