Page 33

Mackenzie

The moment I step through the front door at lunchtime, I know something’s wrong.

The penthouse is too quiet, not calm, not peaceful, but unnervingly still. I drop my bag on the entryway table, ears straining for any sound.

Nothing.

“Theo?” I call, stepping into the condo. No answer.

My pulse spikes.

I kick off my heels and bolt for the stairs, taking them two at a time. Levi was sick when I left—feverish and worn out—but he should be asleep, maybe even starting to feel better. This silence? It’s wrong.

As I reach the top landing, the smell hits me.

Vomit.

A sharp, gut-wrenching wave of dread crashes over me, and I sprint to his room, throwing the door open.

He’s there, tangled in sweat-soaked sheets, his body curled into itself. His skin shines with fever, cheeks flushed a scary red. His pajama top and pillow are streaked with vomit, his hair matted, his lips dry and cracked.

“Levi,” I breathe, dropping to my knees beside him. My hand goes to his forehead. It’s burning. He’s trembling, his little chest rising and falling too fast. “Hey, buddy. Can you hear me?”

His eyelids flutter, and a faint whimper escapes him. He’s barely conscious.

Panic claws at me, hot and sharp, but I fight it back.

I grab my phone and dial 911, cradling Levi in my arms, lifting him to my lap. He folds into me like he’s too tired to do anything else, his weight frighteningly limp.

The call clicks through.

“My brother.” My voice cracks, but I keep going. “He has a high fever and vomiting. I need help.”

She takes some vital information from me. “They’re a few minutes out.”

I press my cheek to Levi’s damp forehead, rocking him gently as I whisper, “Hang on, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

With the emergency operator in one ear, I call the building concierge from the house phone to let them know I’ve called for an ambulance and to send them up as soon as they arrive.

“I’m on it. I’ll hold an elevator for them, and they’ll be up as soon as they arrive,” the concierge replies.

“You can cool him off with a cold shower,” the operator offers.

“I can do that.”

I toss the phone aside and turn back to Levi. His skin is blazing.

“I’m getting you in the shower, buddy,” I murmur, trying to keep my balance as I stand. He’s so heavy. His head flops against my shoulder, barely stirring.

I bolt to the attached bathroom and twist the shower handle. The second the cool spray hits, I step in fully clothed, holding Levi close.

The water shocks him, and he lets out a small, pitiful whimper.

Good. He’s still in there.

“Shhh,” I whisper, pressing his burning cheek to my soaked shoulder. “I’ve got you. Just stay with me.”

The water pours over us, chilling my skin as I cling to him. His body trembles against mine.

The ambulance is on its way. Just a little longer.

I push his wet hair off his forehead, my hands shaking. “You’re gonna be okay, Levi. Just hold on, sweetheart.”

After a minute, I step out of the shower and sit him on the counter as I try to dry us both off.

“I don’t feel so good,” Levi says.

“I know, baby,” I wipe his face clear of vomit and water. “I called for an ambulance. Aren’t you lucky? You get an ambulance ride to the hospital.”

And then the thought hits me like a punch to the chest.

Where the hell is Theo?

My heart stutters. I lunge for my phone on the bathroom counter, nearly dropping it as I fumble for his contact.

The EMTs rush in. Their calm professionalism crashes against the chaos inside me. Relief and fear swirl together because now it’s real.

They don’t hesitate. In seconds, they’re kneeling beside me, working with calm urgency. One of them takes Levi’s temperature. The beep sounds like a gunshot in the quiet.

“One-oh-four point one,” the EMT says grimly. “His fever’s dangerously high.” He’s already pulling supplies from his bag. “We need to stabilize him—now.”

A needle flashes under the overhead light, then sinks into Levi’s arm. He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t move. Doesn’t protest. That silence? It terrifies me.

The EMT tapes the needle in place and hangs an IV bag from the gurney, the fluid dripping slow and steady.

I stay close, too close, as they move him onto the bed, brushing his damp curls from his forehead, whispering his name over and over. His skin is hot. His breathing is shallow. He’s so still.

And then we’re moving.

Into the elevator. As the elevator doors close, I catch a glimpse of Scott emerging from the security office, pulling an earbud from his ear. His expression twists—confusion, concern. His mouth opens like he’s about to speak.

But I don’t stop. We can’t stop.

I don’t have time for questions. For explanations. For anything but Levi.

I watch the faint rise and fall of his chest beneath the hospital blanket. He’s so small. So breakable.

Down to the lobby. The concierge holds the door as the EMTs glide the gurney past with crushing, focused speed.

“Please,” I whisper. “Please be okay.”

I climb into the back of the ambulance and wrap my hand around Levi’s, holding on as the ambulance cuts through the city, siren screaming. Inside, the space is tense and too bright. Levi lies still, curled slightly on the stretcher, the soft sway of the IV bag the only rhythm I can bear to watch.

Theo, you said you’d be there to help Levi. What could have happened?

One of the EMTs glances back at me. “The flu’s hitting kids hard this year,” he says, his voice kind. “You did the right thing, calling when you did.”

I nod, but the words barely reach me. I know I made the right call. What I don’t know is how we got to this moment. What choices led us here.

The hospital appears faster than I expect. The back doors of the ambulance swing open, and we’re in motion again, swept down sterile corridors, past sharp smells and muted voices, machines humming, and doors swinging open on either side.

I don’t know what happens next.

I only know I won’t let go of Levi’s hand.

A woman in scrubs and a white coat approaches us at the ER entrance. Kimball is sewn onto the right lapel of her coat.

The EMTs rattle off Levi’s vitals and what they’ve done.

“Levi?” she says, falling into step beside the stretcher as the EMTs wheel him in. “Can you hear me?”

His eyelids flutter, his face drawn tight with exhaustion. For a moment, my stomach drops. I think he won’t answer. But then, he shifts slightly and whispers something I can’t make out before forcing out a faint, “Yes.”

Dr. Kimball nods, her voice low and soothing. “Good, sweetheart. What’s your name?”

“Levi Davis,” he breathes.

“And how old are you?”

“Eight.” The word scrapes from his throat like it costs him everything.

Her eyes soften. “What’s your mom’s name?”

Levi turns his head, his glassy gaze searching for me. “My mom’s name is Ellie, but Mackenzie is my sister,” he mumbles. The look he gives me nearly breaks me in half.

Dr. Kimball glances at me, her voice firm. “We’ll need parental consent before we begin treatment.”

“I have it.” My voice shakes with urgency as I fumble through my bag, pulling out the folded, slightly crumpled papers I stuffed inside earlier. “I mean, I’m his legal guardian. I have signatures from both his parents.” I smooth the documents on my leg, hands trembling, and pass them to her.

She scans them, nods once. “Okay. We’ve got him.”

And with that, something inside me uncoils. I release a breath and tighten my grip on Levi’s hand. His skin is still far too warm, but his pulse is steady.

Dr. Kimball moves quickly, her hands sure, her focus laser sharp. We settle into a room where machines beep quietly around us, a rhythm that matches Levi’s shallow, even breaths. I sit by his side, fingers curled around his hand as if I can transfer my strength to him.

“It’s the flu,” Dr. Kimball says when she finally turns to me. “It’s spreading aggressively this season, and it’s hitting kids hard. He’s dehydrated, and his fever spiked fast. I want to keep him here for observation for a few hours. I hear a little bit of fluid in his lungs, so I also want him to finish a round of antibiotics with the IV fluids.”

I nod, swallowing hard. “Whatever he needs.”

I pull up Theo’s name and hit call.

Straight to voicemail.

Beep.

I whisper-yell into the phone, my voice raw with fear, fury, and something dangerously close to heartbreak. “Where the hell are you, Theo? Levi is sick, really sick, and you left him alone. His fever spiked, and I had to call an ambulance!” My voice cracks as the tears spill freely, but I don’t care. Not anymore.

“He’s eight years old. Eight. And you just…left?” My hand shakes. “I don’t care what’s going on with you or your goddamn company. I’m done. Done pretending this is something real. Done thinking we could build a life together.” My voice breaks again. “Levi is my priority. He always will be. And you? You just showed me exactly where you stand.”

I hang up, my hands trembling as I shove the phone aside. Levi stirs weakly in his bed, and I cup his little hand in mine. “I’ve got you.”

Why did he just leave?

The question pounds in my head, but the answer is already clear.

He’s just like Dad.

Career first. Everything else—everyone else—comes second. Maybe he wanted things to be different this time, but he doesn’t have it in him. And this feels even worse than the first time it happened because now it doesn’t just affect me.

My chest aches with the hollow kind of grief that comes from clarity. And as I look down at Levi, his little fingers curled in mine, I know what I have to do.

It’s time to stop hoping Theo will become someone he’s not. My fears were clearly founded.

Everything about this feels terrible, but eventually, the adrenaline wanes and my eyes grow heavy. I rest my head next to Levi’s on the bed and fade into sleep.

When I wake a little while later, Levi’s eyes are open. He smiles. He looks so much more like himself. The nurse brings him a snack, and when he’s finished that, his energy has raised enough for us to play cards. In no time, we’ve got a game of Trash spread across the tray over his hospital bed. His fingers are slow, a little shaky, but he’s still managing to beat me, and every time he discards a card with that faint, triumphant smile, I feel like maybe we’re back in familiar waters.

Then the door bursts open.

Theo rushes in, wild-eyed and breathless, with Phillip close behind. His gaze darts around until it lands on me, and the second it does, everything in my chest twists.

“Mackenzie, Levi, I’m so sorry I left,” he blurts, his voice tight. “Inspector Harris called. It was urgent—”

“Why didn’t you call me?” I demand.

“I didn’t think I needed to bother you. I asked Scott to listen and check in on him.”

“What part of security or bodyguard says babysitter?” I cut in. “I’ve read the Clear Security contract. No minor should be left alone, beyond basic transport, with any of their employees.”

Regret flashes across his face like a lightning strike.

“Why didn’t you call?” I demand again, my voice cracking. The betrayal lives in my throat, thick and bitter. “All you had to do was call.”

“I thought—”

“Thought what?” I bite back. “That work couldn’t sort itself out? That someone else would pick up your responsibility? That Levi would just wait for you, sick and alone, and it’d all be fine?”

He opens his mouth, but there’s nothing he can say. Nothing makes any of this okay. Just. Like. Dad. Another man too busy, too driven, too self-important to show up when it mattered.

Levi watches us, his tired eyes flicking between me and Theo. I feel the weight of his gaze, the questions he doesn’t ask out loud.

I straighten because I owe him strength.

I reach into my pocket, pulling out the sleek metal fob—the one Theo gave me when we moved in. My hand trembles as I press it into his palm. His fingers brush mine, a familiar touch now cold and empty. He stares down at it like he doesn’t recognize it, like if he holds still enough, none of this will be real.

“Mackenzie, please.” His voice breaks. “I didn’t think—”

And there it is again. “That’s just it,” I tell him. “You didn’t think about us.”

He flinches. Not because I’m cruel , I tell myself, but because I’m right .

“You’re too much like him,” I continue quietly, shaking my head. “Like my father. You always say the right thing after it’s too late. Your business, your work, your next big crisis… They will always come first. Levi and I? We can’t be second. Not anymore.”

“That was not at all my intention,” Theo says, the words hoarse, weighted with desperation. “I screwed up. I wasn’t thinking straight. The last thing I wanted was to give the police any more of my time. Please, give me another chance.”

I’ve heard that before. “Sorry doesn’t fix this,” I tell him. “Sorry doesn’t cool a fever or comfort a child who’s lying in his own vomit. Levi needed you, and you weren’t there.” I glance over at Levi. “We deserve more than afterthoughts and apologies.”

Theo’s chest rises and falls, each breath unsteady. His regret is real, I can see that, but it doesn’t undo what’s been done.

“Please…” he tries again.

But I shake my head. I have to stick with my decision. This isn’t just about me anymore. “Have our things moved to my house,” I tell him. “Tabatha can clear out my desk at the office. I won’t be coming back.”

His head snaps up, his face crumbling. Panic rushes in, but it’s too late. “Mac—”

“I’m done,” I tell him again.

The sound of squeaking sneakers breaks the moment. Dr. Kimball enters the room.

“Ms. Davis,” she says, handing me a folder, “all the discharge paperwork is signed. Make sure Levi finishes the antibiotics, keeps hydrated, and rests. If anything changes, bring him back immediately.”

“Thank you, doctor.” I take the folder.

Theo steps back. He doesn’t reach for me. Doesn’t reach for Levi.

He knows.

I help Levi sit up and get dressed, then gently guide him into the wheelchair waiting by the bed. His hand finds mine, warm and trusting, and in that touch, I find every ounce of strength I need.

“Let’s go home,” I whisper.

We leave the room without looking back.

The hospital hall is quiet. The wheels of Levi’s chair barely make a sound on the polished floor. He shivers, his body still recovering.

I feel Theo behind us before he speaks.

“Let Phillip drive you home,” he says.

I don’t turn around. “No. I’ve already arranged for a rideshare.”

“Mackenzie, please—”

“No.” This time, the word cuts sharper. “We’ve got it.”

I tighten my grip on the handles of Levi’s chair, grounding myself in movement, in forward momentum. I won’t be pulled back—not again.

Theo stops walking. He doesn’t call to me anymore.

I keep going, steady and sure, with everything that matters already in my arms. The automatic doors slide open. The sun is slipping behind the skyline, casting soft gold across the pavement as the day says goodbye.

“Mackenzie, don’t do this,” Theo finally says, reappearing behind me.

I stop.

Just for a heartbeat.

Long enough to feel the weight of what this means settle in my chest. And then, I let it go.

I turn back to him. “Goodbye.”

The word tastes strange, like something I never wanted to say, but always knew I’d have to.

Theo just stands there, the shadows folding around him. “Take care of him,” he says.

I don’t respond.

I don’t need to.

A few taps and a rideshare is on its way.

We will be okay , I tell myself.

Just Levi and me.

We are enough.