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Eighteen

I’m such a ‘who TF touched my oh never mind I found it’ kind of person.

— Aella to Chevy

AELLA

I’d gone to tell him I’d found out that his family—the Truth Tellers MC—were in the waiting room.

I’d thought he might want to know that some of his people were here, having been affected by the accident.

I’d put my hand on his arm where he’d been staring down the length of the hallway, lost in thought.

I’d opened my mouth to tell him what I’d found out when he turned and saw me standing there.

Before I could let a single word escape my lips, he’d pulled me to his body and pressed his lips to mine.

I gasped, surprised to find the heat of his body pressed up against mine.

At the opening, his tongue dipped inside of my mouth, and I saw stars.

I’d fantasized about kissing Chevy Clayborne so many times that it wasn’t even funny. However, no fantasy I’d made up in my head could top the real life participation in the act.

It was everything.

His taste. His smell. His possessive hold.

I loved every single second.

And that was all it was. A second.

Before I could get into the kiss more, he pulled away, then left to go into the scrub-in area.

I stared, chest heaving, and tried to figure out how to make my body work again.

“Aella, dear!” I heard called. “I could really use your help!”

I left, thankful that I had muscle memory to help me walk.

Because if it was up to my addled brain, I wouldn’t be going anywhere.

Dru led me into a room that had my entire heart hammering.

It was filled with Truth Tellers, and there was no smile for my entrance.

All of the focus was on the child in the bed.

There was a single man that was in the chair next to the bed, the small boy’s hand sandwiched between his large ones.

He had his head bowed over the kid’s hands, and his broad shoulders were shaking.

Crying silently, he listened as the doctor spoke.

“…donate his organs, a team of medical professionals will be here within the next twelve hours, and they’ll take your son’s organs to all the recipients…”

Dru pulled me to the side and whispered to me, “I want to get him cleaned up. He’s rough, honey. I want him to be clean. The dad doesn’t need to be looking at that for the next twelve hours.”

I agreed.

“I’ll get it done,” I promised.

She pulled me to a stop and said, “A lock of his hair. I also plan to run to the baby floor and grab an ink pad and some card stock. I want you to make sure that you get him all the things to remember him by, okay?”

My heart literally melted.

Dru.

God, she had such a good heart.

“Yes,” I breathed. “I’ll get him cleaned up. Then get that done for him.”

Dru smiled at me sadly and said, “Let me know if you need any help. I might be able to spare someone.”

I patted her shoulder and said, “I’ll be fine.”

I waited off to the side while the doctor and the dad of the little boy finished talking.

From what I was hearing, the little boy had suffered multiple breaks in his spine, his head was crushed, and there was really nothing left that was compatible with life.

“Apollo,” Webber said, surprising me with his soft voice. “Sept, look at me.”

Apollo.

God.

Was that who that was?

He finally looked up, and the ravaged expression on his face made me start to tear up.

“I can’t do it.”

“I don’t…” Webber began.

“I’m going to give you some time,” the doctor said before disappearing from the room.

“Webber…”

Hush.

The man that’d been in my apartment last week.

“Can we give him some time?” he asked.

The men filed out, and that’s when I saw my father there.

He’d been in a corner.

He was unsurprised to see me, and he patted my head as he left.

I waited until everyone was gone to go up to the man at the bed.

“Hey, can I get him washed up?” I asked. “We can get him all nice and clean.”

Apollo looked at his son.

I don’t know what he saw, but I could tell you what I saw.

Devastation.

This kid didn’t look like a kid anymore. He looked like a broken doll, one that would never be put back together again.

“Yeah,” Apollo rasped. “I think I’d like that.”

I left the room, passing through the group of men in the hallway.

They were standing outside of two rooms, and when I got to the open doorway of the second one, I heard Dr. Marsh having the same speech with another man dressed in a Truth Tellers MC cut.

This one was standing beside the bed of a woman with strawberry-blonde hair, lying lifelessly on the stark white hospital bed.

She looked just as broken as the boy did.

Had they been together?

As I gathered up the things I would need to give the little boy a bath, I made a mental note to offer the same services to the other man once I was done.

Dru found me as I’d gathered up everything I’d need, coming up with a handful of items.

“I got the kit they use when they have a still birth,” Dru said softly. “When you’re done with this, there’s a woman in the next room…”

“I already planned on going there next,” I said softly.

Dru patted my hand. “Thanks, friend.”

Gathering my courage, I straightened my spine and headed back into the little boy’s room.

Apollo was still there by himself, staring at the little boy’s hand in his.

I got the water warm, then filled up the small tub and added some soap.

Pulling the rolling table with me, I dunked the washcloths and started cleaning the boy up.

“What’s his name?” I asked quietly.

“Tavi.” He swallowed hard. “Octavian.”

“I love that name,” I said softly. “Tell me about him?”

So I listened and cleaned, letting Apollo talk about how great his son was.

How much life had been in him.

How he’d suffered, and he’d thought he was finally home with him.

How they’d spend forever making up for the time they’d lost together.

“What’s that?” Apollo asked.

I held up a card and some ink.

“One of our nurses, Dru, thought you might like the memento,” she said. “The babies that are born get their hands and feet prints.”

“Yeah,” Apollo croaked. “I think I’d like that.”

He helped me stamp his feet and his hands.

Still so small.

So much life left to live, cut short by one stupid kid who had no clue of the destruction he’d caused.

“What would you do?” he asked.

My eyes lifted to Apollo’s.

He was still crying.

His watery blue eyes looked so devastated that it was hard to meet his gaze.

But I forced myself to hold it anyway.

“I’m pretty biased,” I said softly.

“Why?”

I poured the water down the sink and moved the washcloths into the biohazard bag in the corner of the room before I turned to look at the grieving father.

“Every month I watch organ transplant patients come in and out of this hospital,” I said softly.

He swallowed hard.

“They come in here, all walks of life, with so much hope. Most walk out. Some don’t. But the hope that’s in their eyes as they arrive for that organ transplant…” I shook my head. “I signed up for organ donation after working here for six months. I truly think that I want my life to mean bigger and greater things. You can save so many people. He can save so many people. And I’d bet, if you could ask him, he’d say the same thing.”

There was a throat clearing behind me, and I turned to find the man that’d been in the next room staring.

My heart seemed to halt in my chest.

But his eyes weren’t on me, they were on Apollo.

“I’ll do it if you do it.”

The name on his cut said “Detroit.”

Apollo made a sound in the back of his throat. “Fuck.”

I left the room to give them privacy, heading to gather the supplies for Detroit next.

The group of black leather vests had multiplied, but none of them stopped me.

They were all silent, holding vigil outside the rooms.

I kept my head down, intent on my task.

I gathered everything I’d need, then headed back to Detroit’s room.

He was standing next to the bed, staring down at the bed as he sifted the woman’s strawberry-blonde hair through his fingers.

“Excuse me,” I said softly.

He looked up.

“I was wondering if you’d like me to get her cleaned up for you,” I replied.

“I, uh.” He cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to do it myself.”

I nodded and held out the things. “If you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to call.”

I left without him acknowledging me.

Again, I walked through the group of men, still silent, and didn’t stop until I got to the back of the surgery suites.

The observation area looked out over the two operation rooms that I wanted to see.

My gaze instantly caught on Chevy where he sat beside the patient’s head.

I flicked on the monitor so I could hear what was being said and heard the surgeon talking about closing.

I must’ve stood there for so long that closing was finished because soon Chevy was doing his thing to wake the patient up.

Only, I saw him hesitate as he started to push the medication that would do that.

He stopped, stared at his hands for a long second, then pushed the plunger on the syringe violently.

Nothing happened at first.

Everyone started to move about the room as if everything was normal.

Even Chevy got up and began moving around like he hadn’t had that one weird moment.

I was so invested in watching Chevy that at first I missed the monitors going crazy.

Everyone in the room but one reacted in surprise and started to move toward the patient again.

Chevy stood near the door, watching dispassionately.

And that’s when I knew.

Chevy had just killed a man.