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Rush passes her bag back, which he’d collected on her behalf, and I take it from him, giving it to her. She scurries up, her legs draped across the seat still, as she digs through the bag. Does she have any idea how stunning she looks like this?

I see Ryker’s gaze linger on her in the rearview mirror as she pulls out her phone, and I give him a quick jab in the soft part of his neck with a single knuckle.

He sucks in a breath as his gaze returns to the road.

She taps the phone and then lets out a rush of air. “Thank goodness.”

“What?” I ask, my gaze narrowing.

“Dr. Lawrence. They might have a liver for Darius. If it comes, I need to get him to the hospital within the hour.”

“How were you going to do that from a whorehouse?” I bite back, irritated all over again.

“He’s nearly sixteen. He can take the bus,” she looks up at me then, tears staining her cheeks.

“Still, Honeyeh, it was fucking stupid. Do you know what kind of man you might have had rutting on top of you?”

She makes a choking noise. “I don’t have health insurance. He wouldn’t perform the surgery without a down payment and if Darius doesn’t get the surgery soon, he’ll die.”

My jaw locks. She’d sell herself to save her brother. I have long taken the heat in my family, been the person who bears the full weight of burden.

In some many ways, Honeyeh and I are opposites. But in this regard, she is a kindred spirit. She’d fight with every weapon in her possession for her family.

Rush makes a gurgling noise in his throat, clearly understanding her predicament, as I pull Honeyeh close, wrapping my arms around her. She melts into me. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

I pull her even closer, my cheek dropping to the top of her head even as one of my hands threads into her hair, cradling her skull while the other wraps around her body. “I’m sorry,” I whisper into her hair. Because a bunch of this is my fucking fault.

She tips her head back, her brow furrowing. “For what?”

“For last night. For not being clear that you can always come to me.” And then I drop my mouth to hers, giving her a soft, slow kiss.

My brothers have remained silent, despite likely having a thousand questions. I expect one of them to interrupt at anymoment, but the sound that breaks the kiss is the shrill ringing of Honeyeh’s phone.

She jerks away, grabbing the device. “Hello?” she says in a breathy voice, her gray eyes wide.

“Honeyeh? It’s Dr. Lawrence.” I can hear his voice clear as a bell and I make no move to pull away.

“Dr. Lawrence. I’m glad to hear from you.”

“I have news.” I can tell by his tone, it isn’t good.

“Yes?”

“The potential donor has recovered from the coma. It doesn’t seem as though…”

Honeyeh’s face crumples. “That’s wonderful news for him.”

Dr. Lawrence clears his throat. “Try not to lose hope. We’ll keep fighting.”

“I will. I mean I won’t.” More tears roll down her cheeks, and she swipes them away as she attempts to collect herself. “Thank you, doctor.”

“I’d like to see Darius on Monday to assess his progression and see what further steps can be done.”

“Of course,” Honeyeh answers even as she slumps back on the seat. I follow her, wrapping my arms around her body, pressing my chest to hers. Her arm comes around my neck. “I’ll see you Monday,” she murmurs into the phone before she hangs up. “There’s no liver after all,” she says into my collar before a giant sob racks her body. I gather her closer, hugging her for a moment, before I ease back, but only to lift her and settle her in my lap.

She curls into me, making herself as small as possible as she cries into my collar.

I stroke my fingers down Honeyeh’s arm, fitting her tighter against my chest. I don’t even realize I’m murmuring words of comfort until Rush clears his throat.