Page 89 of Mended Fences

I barked a laugh. “Like you’re one to talk. Corrupting innocent girls, playing the reformed bad boy…”

And then the bell over the door chimed.

I didn’t even have to look. The look on Kai’s face said it all. Everything in me snapped to attention like a switch flipping. Rage off. Charm on. That’s what she needed from me, right? Big brother, cool as ever.

“Charlie,” I said, turning slowly, letting her name stretch out like a smile.

Her eyes flicked between me and Kai, reading the tension. But instead of going to him—thank fuck—she sat beside me. My sister. My blood.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, voice soft, warm, concerned.

She hesitated. “Oh, uh, I was looking for you,” she said, fingers twisting like they always did when she lied.

“Perfect timing! I’ve got a surprise.” I lit up like I wasn’t wired to hell and back. “I bought a motorcycle! Wanna go for a ride?”

Her eyes went wide. It was adorable, really.

“Oh yeah?” she asked, but her voice trembled. That doubt again. That fear.

I stood up before she could say no. “C’mon,” I said, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

She hesitated, glanced back at Kai. He looked like he wasabout to explode, but I ignored him. We walked out together. The sunlight hit me like a poke in the eyeballs, but I kept smiling. I could feel Kai watching us. Good. Let him.

I threw a leg over the bike, revved the engine, and took off, wind screaming past my ears, Charlie’s arms wrapped tight around my waist.

She was safe with me.

Chapter Thirty

ELENA

Then, September 2024

The trauma pagerbuzzed against my hip, jolting me out of charting.

MVA inbound. Two patients. ETA five minutes.

I was already on my feet grabbing fresh gloves from the wall. The charge nurse—Toby—met me halfway down the hall, rattling off details.

“Motorcycle crash. Witness says he swerved to avoid a deer or a dog—something small. Lost control, no helmet. Two riders. One unconscious. One responsive but in rough shape. GCS is seven on arrival. BP’s dropping.”

“No helmets?” I asked, already tugging a gown over my scrubs.

“None.”

I tried not to let that stick. Tried not to hear the way his voice dipped when she said it.

“Names?”

He hesitated—just a breath—but I felt it. Felt it like a punch to the ribs.

Toby didn’t look at me when he said, “Chase Everton and a Jane Doe. No ID on her.”

The hallway tilted.

My fingers froze on the Velcro strap of my face shield. For a second, I couldn’t breathe.

No. No, no, no?—