Page 8 of Devour (Blood and Roses #1)

Ariel

T he hospital room is warm, dimly lit, and reeks of antiseptic. Noah lies in the bed, a tangle of IV tubes snaking from his arm.

He looks small and fragile, like a shadow of the bright kid he used to be. Just last month, he was diagnosed with Juvenile Myelocore Syndrome. The doctors caught it early, but that hasn’t made the fight any easier.

Since then, I’ve been in and out of this hospital more times than I can count—sleep-deprived, stretched thin, picking up every part-time job I can find just to keep up with the bills.

Every beep of the monitor is a reminder of the weight pressing down on me. I adjust the blanket around his IV line carefully, trying not to wake him.

“Hey, baby,” I whispered, brushing the curls from his forehead. Soft. Always so soft, even now. His lashes fluttered, slow and sleepy.

“Mom?”

I bent down and kissed his cheek. “Shhh. I’m here. Go back to sleep.” But he was already trying to sit up, his voice a hoarse whisper.

“I miss you.”

God, that voice. So small. So freaking brave. I dragged the chair closer and sat beside him, taking his tiny hand in mine.

“I miss you too, baby.” I reached behind me, pulling out a small plush dinosaur from the plastic bag I’d been hiding. “Look what I got you.”

His face lights up as he reaches for it. I had it sterilized and cleared by his doctor before bringing it in—no risks, not with Noah. I know how much he loves dinosaurs. His room at home is filled with them—paintings, toys, posters. A whole prehistoric world just for him.

“It’s a tiny T-Rex! I love it, Mom. Thank you!” he beams, clutching it to his chest like it’s the most precious thing in the world. I smile and gently tickle his side.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

“Baby, Dr. Eli said you had some trouble eating today. That’s why you have to take the nutrient IV drip, okay?”

“Yes,” Noah mumbles, eyes downcast. “I tried to eat, but… it didn’t taste good.”

“I know, baby.” I brush a strand of hair from his forehead. “But you have to keep trying, even if it’s hard. So, you’ll get better for Mommy. Okay? Promise me?”

“Promise,” he whispers, giving a small, tired nod.

There’s a pause. He clutches the little dinosaur tighter, then looks up at me with those wide, thoughtful eyes.

“Mom… can I ask you something?”

“Of course, baby. Anything.”

“What do you think of Dr. Eli?”

He asks it so casually, his little voice soft and curious. I pause, caught off guard. “He… he’s nice. And he takes good care of you, baby.” Noah looks at me with those knowing eyes that are far too wise for his age.

“Why don’t you go out with him? I know you haven’t been with anyone since Dad died.”

My throat tightens. The air catches in my lungs, and for a moment, I can’t speak. He keeps going like he’s been holding this in for a while.

“I just don’t want you to be alone… when I’m gone.”

“Baby,” I whisper, gripping his hand tightly, “nothing is going to happen to you. We’re going to find a donor. You’re going to get better. I promise.” He nods slowly, but the worry doesn’t leave his face. If only he knew…

If only he knew his father was still alive. Would he still want me to be with Dr. Eli? The door eased open behind me. Dr. Eli Ward slipped inside—oh, perfect timing.

I couldn’t let Noah see me undone; it would only plant fear in him I couldn’t take back. Eli carried a clipboard in one hand, a quiet smile on his face.

He always had that look—casual, clean, like he belonged in a coffee shop more than a hospital. Rolled-up sleeves under his crisp doctor’s coat, kind eyes, and that little wrinkle in his brow he got when he was worried but trying not to show it. He walked toward Noah, his tone light.

“What do we have here? You should be resting, little man.”

Noah grinned up at him, eyes bright.

“I am in bed.”

Dr. Eli chuckled as he checked the IV line.

“Almost done,” he said, gently tapping the drip. “The nurse will be in soon to take it out.” “I just came to check on my favorite patient before I head out,” he says, his eyes flicking to me.

“Ariel… it’s getting late. Would you like a ride home?”

I shook my head, offering a small smile. “Thanks, but I’ll take the bus. I still want to stay a little longer with Noah.”

“Mom, I’m fine,” Noah says, his voice soft but firm. “And I want to sleep now.”

He gives me that knowing little smile, the same one his father used to wear when he thought he was being clever. Then, as if to drive the point home, he winks at me before turning over and squeezing his eyes shut in a dramatic display of feigned sleep.

I chuckle under my breath, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “Alright, baby. I’ll be back first thing in the morning.” No response.

He’s already committed to the act, breathing slow and steady like he fell asleep the second he lay down. I lean in and press a soft kiss to his cheek. Then I straighten, glancing toward Dr. Eli’s direction.

I catch a flicker of something on his face before he quickly masks it. Is Mia, right? Does he have feelings for me? I shove the thought down. It’s just a ride home. Nothing more. No reason to read too much into it.

“I guess you’re giving me a ride after all,” I murmur.

A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“Guess I am.”

“Good night, baby,” I whisper, before walking out the door with Dr. Eli.