Her torment pummeled me. Wave after wave, and I didn’t know whether to stand guard in front of Evan or rush the motherfucker and make it so he couldn’t utter another word.
In the middle of everything, wondering if I would finally truly have something to give.
Because another of those pieces finally took hold. I’d looked through Evan’s records what had to be a hundred times. Dane had never been mentioned once.
Not once.
The memory hit me, the plea that had been woven into her tone when she’d told me she’d do absolutely anything to protect her son.
Anything.
This amazing, giving, selfless girl.
Rage churned, and I stepped in front of Dane who was still making his approach.
I didn’t give a flying fuck if I lost my medical license. My freedom. Whatever it took.
He tried to keep his arrogant chin lifted, but I saw the way the pussy’s knees wobbled, the tremor in his misstep.
I shifted to look over my shoulder at Dr. Krane. “I assure you, Dr. Krane, there is no evidence of a DNR in that boy’s file. This man is lying.”
It didn’t matter if he was or not. I’d gladly go down for this. For Evan. For Hope.
Dr. Krane hesitated, looking between Dane and Evan and me.
“Please . . . save him.” I couldn’t even manage to get sound into the words. It was just a silent plea.
Issued with every part of me.
Because if I could offer Hope one thing? It would be a chance for her son.
For her amazing, incredible son.
For a moment, Dr. Krane wavered before he cleared his throat and yelled, “Go, get his boy upstairs.”
Standing there with my heart battering at my ribs, I watched as they rushed Evan into the elevator. It wasn’t until the door closed shut behind them that I sensed the flurry of movement, the whoosh of air before I felt the connection of the fist against my jaw.
Pain splintered across my face and my head rocked back.
But I didn’t care.
As long as Evan got his chance.
Hope screamed. Screamed my name so loudly it penetrated my soul, which I swore trembled and shook, stretching out for her.
Wishing it could reach her.
Impossible.
I knew.
But that didn’t mean that connection between us wasn’t real.
Feet knocked out from under me, I tripped and thudded to the ground. Instantly, Dane was on top of me, going for another blow. Roaring, I caught his wrist just before it connected against my eye.
I tossed him off.
It sent him reeling across the floor. He slammed into a metal file cabinet, head striking against the corner, body slumping to the ground.
I went for him, sitting up high on my knees when I cocked my arm back and let my fist fly. It cracked against his cheekbone. The already fragile skin split and blood poured out.
“Why would you do this?” I demanded, gripping him by the shirt in both of my hands. A new kind of frenzy rose inside me.
Hysteria and turmoil.
A need for Hope. Maybe a need for me.
Melody.
I blinked against the images of her face that flashed behind my eyes. That fucking flat line.
“Why? Did you know Melody was sick? Did you know your sister was sick?” My own sickness roiled when I thought of the possibility.
Melody falling to the ground, shocked by a pain she never could have anticipated.
I need you.
Hope yelped when I said it. “Your sister? Oh God. Kale. Oh God, the girl . . . your first love who you lost.”
No doubt, the girl was catching on to my truth.
The second I’d realized the connection, I’d known the reality would break her in two.
God knew that it’d broken me.
But in the end, she needed to know this more than I did. For Evan. We needed the whole, complete truth for Evan.
I wouldn’t stop until we had it.
I could feel her . . . her presence behind me, her cries biting into my skin. Fuck, I just wanted to take it all away. Make it better. Give her back her life.
“Fuck you,” Dane spat.
I tightened my hold on his collar, making sure I was cutting off some of the airflow, my teeth gritting as I forced out the low, biting words, “Tell me . . . did you know that your sister was sick? That her heart was bad?”
Guilt streaked across his face before it was replaced with indignation.
He knew. Anger stretched hot across my chest.
“You bastard, you fucking knew.” My hands constricted tighter, and his legs flailed, his pathetic hands coming to mine, nails scratching as he tried to break my hold.
“No. You’re the one who was supposed to be the doctor. You should have seen it. You should have saved her.”
Knives.
They cut and flayed. Slashes across my flesh. Cutting me to pieces.
Because I knew I should have. I should have seen. I should have stopped it.
But I’d ignored all the warning signs. Too busy and too wrapped up in my life to realize their importance until there’d been nothing I could do.