Page 24

TWENTY-FOUR

SAINT

“Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad.” Lennon greets her parents with a sweet smile, leaning in to hug them both. Much like last time, it looks mechanical. Stiff. Something that’s done out of obligation, not actual affection.

The dynamic between them seems different than what I thought after seeing the glowing articles about their perfect family.

“I’m so glad you could make it today, sweetheart,” her mother coos before turning her attention to me. “And you brought… Saint. How lovely .”

I smirk, lifting my hand and waving my fingers.

Lennon steps back into my side, sliding her arms around my waist and peering up at me. “Oh, I hope it’s okay that he came today? He needs a few more hours for his community service, and I figured this is the perfect opportunity.”

Her father clears his throat. “Sorry, community service for… your resume?”

His face is almost as red as his hair when I look over at him, wearing the cockiest smug grin I can manage. I’m planning on bullshitting my way through her little fib, but she beats me to it.

“Oh, no. He’s required to report it to his probation officer.”

I bite back the laugh that’s threatening to rumble out of me. This fucking girl.

Keeping my expression neutral, I exhale. “Yeah, I’m just thankful that Lennon loves me unconditionally and doesn’t judge me for my past mistakes. It seems like they haunt me, always following me around.”

Lennon scoffs, pulling my attention to her as she pokes out a lip. “Oh, babe, that’s because you got jail tattoos… those kinds of things never go away.”

I chuckle.

“Lennon, honey,” her dad interrupts the one-upping he is unknowingly witnessing. “I think maybe you should go ahead and go in with the children. Your mother and I need to speak with Dr. Baker for a bit, and we’ll be right in. We can… chat more later,” he says, eyes finding mine again.

From the second her father clocked me beside her, he’s kept his gaze firmly rooted on me, trailing over the tattoos on my arms, down to the old work boots on my feet, silently passing his judgment just based on the way I look, the way I dress.

Deciding that I’m not good enough for his daughter.

And he’s not wrong, but he can fuck off with his entitled, holier-than-thou attitude.

Fuck him for his judgment when he’s standing in a glass house with more skeletons in the closet than anyone.

Difference is that he hides them better than most.

And I’m going to be the one that shatters that fucking house, razing every inch of it to the ground until there’s nothing left standing.

“Saint?” A soft voice pulls me out of my head, and I glance down to see Lennon staring up at me. Her brow is pulled tight, a bewildered expression on her face. “Did you hear what I said?”

“Nah, sorry, what?”

She looks slightly confused but repeats it slowly. “I said that we’re going to go ahead and go in while my parents are talking to Dr. Baker.” She waves her hand toward them as they both walk across the hospital and then disappear out of view.

I nod, opting to remain quiet.

“ Ooookay. Let’s go.” Lennon turns on her heel and starts off down the hallway toward the end of the wing.

The walls are painted in bright yellows, greens, and blues and are covered in finger-painted pictures that I can’t even begin to decipher.

Along with the paintings, there are popsicle stick crafts, rainbow-colored construction paper folded flowers, and all of the patient room doors that we pass are decorated in a fall theme.

It’s the first time I think I’d ever call a hospital… cheerful.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” she murmurs, following my gaze. “It feels a lot less like a hospital and more like a home away from home.”

She’s right. It’s clear the staff make an effort to make it feel this way for the kids. I’ve only been to the hospital a few times, and most of them were for hockey. A few because of my dad.

One time, I got in a fight with my father that resulted in me needing stitches. I was probably eleven at the time, and the butterfly bandage I kept trying to close it with wouldn’t hold, and blood was getting all over the house. That only pissed him off more.

I was fucking terrified when we got to the hospital, mostly because I was scared of what would happen if I told the truth. He told the nurses it was a puck to the cheek, when in reality, it was his fist that caused it.

He wouldn’t even allow Mom to come with us, and we sat in the emergency room, covered in blood for hours that night. I hated it. It was stark white, sterile, and the overwhelming stench of antiseptic hung in my nose for the rest of the night.

At least these kids have the comfort of people who care about them and try to make their time here more bearable, more welcoming.

“If I was a kid, the last place I would want to be is stuck in a hospital. Scared, overwhelmed, away from my home, family, friends.” I look over at her, keeping the fact that I was that kid more than once.

The scared one who felt alone, even though I was sitting around doctors, nurses, adults who could’ve helped me if I’d had the courage back then to tell the truth.

“It’s good that they make them feel more at home. ”

Her expression softens as the corner of her lip tilts up into a smile. “Wow, that might be the nicest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it. I do have a reputation to uphold.”

“Mhmm.”

We stop at a set of double doors at the end of the hallway, and she pushes them open.

I’m not sure what I was expecting to find, but a playroom wasn’t it.

There are a handful of kids scattered across the room, coloring at wooden tables, sitting in miniature chairs made just for them.

A couple are sitting on a plush blue bean bag in the corner, reading picture books, and then there’s a little girl with a button nose, probably five, maybe six, pushing a small grocery cart full of recycled boxes made into pretend food around the room with an older nurse.

There’s even a huge rainbow painted on the wall with a sea of clouds and a pot of gold at the end.

“Are we on a playdate right now, Golden Girl?” I ask, moving my attention to her, smirking when she rolls her eyes and laughs, soft and breathy.

“Sure, if that’s what you want to call it. This is where the kids get to hang out and play, which means we get to hang out here with them. C’mon, I’ll introduce you to a few of them.”

I follow behind her as she crosses the room to a small wooden table where a little boy sits, wearing a plush gray robe. He looks up as we approach, and the smile that transforms his face at the sight of Lennon is almost enough to thaw my black heart.

Almost.

“Lemon!” he cries, knocking his small blue chair backward as he stands and rushes over to her as fast as he can with the small oxygen tank on wheels trailing behind him. She squats down, opening her arms just as he barrels into them, throwing his small arms around her neck, squeezing her tightly.

He’s clearly familiar with her, comfortable in a way that I wasn’t expecting. I guess she visits the hospital more than I thought she did.

Add it to her list of Golden Girl accolades.

Except this one… I respect the fuck out of her for it.

“Hi, little guy,” she murmurs after a second, pulling back to look up at me. “There’s someone I want to introduce you to.”

The kid looks up at me warily, not entirely standoffish, more cautious than anything.

“This is my friend Saint. He came to hang out with us today.” She looks down at him, wearing a grin. “Guess what? He loves to color.”

Fuck. Me.

I haven’t colored since I was about… five.

“Saint, this is Decker.”

I’m in uncharted territory right now. Do I shake his hand? Give him a high five?

“Hey,” I finally say, offering a small wave. “Nice to meet you.”

Decker simply stares at me, big brown eyes scrutinizing me. Finally, he says, “Why are you so tall?”

A chuckle vibrates out of my chest, and I shrug. “Born this way, I guess.”

He nods, pursing his lips. “I was born with a broken heart.” Reaching up, he pulls the robe open slightly, showing me the thick, uneven scar that travels down the center of his chest and disappears beneath the fabric.

Shit.

“Well, that’s a pretty sick scar. Makes you look really bada—” I snap my mouth closed when I catch myself. “I mean… It makes you look really cool.”

Decker grins, his face beaming with pride as he nods. “Yeah, my dad says I’m the coolest kid he knows. Maybe it’s true. Sometimes I think he just says it because he has to. He’s my dad.”

I shake my head. “Nah, you’re definitely the coolest kid I know.”

He’s the only kid I know.

Lennon smiles, an smug look on her face, and judging by that, I know she’s never going to shut up about this.

What? I feel like shit that this kid’s stuck in here. If I’m going to be nice to anyone, it’s gonna be him.

“Hey, Decker, why don’t you show Saint some of your drawings?” She gestures to the table he just got up from. “I bet he’d love to see them.”

Decker looks from her to me, and I nod.

“Okay,” he says, grabbing his oxygen tank and wheeling it back over to the table, reclaiming his seat. “These are my superheroes. They save all kids from bad hearts and lungs and brains. They can save anyone. That’s their superpower . ”

The coloring sheets in front of him have various superheroes that he’s colored, mostly staying in the lines, and he’s drawn a few hearts on them.

“Those are cool. Way better than I could ever do,” I tell him honestly, watching as he picks up a blue crayon and starts to color in the chest of one of the superheroes.

Lennon leans into me, standing on her tiptoes to whisper in my ear, “My dad just texted and asked me to come talk to him and Mom. Think you’ll be okay here for a second by yourself?”

For a second, I panic. I have no fucking clue how to… be around kids like this. I’m winging this shit harder than I’ve ever done anything in my life.

“It’s easy,” Decker says, glancing up from his paper. “I could teach you to color in the lines if you want.”

I drag my gaze from him back to Lennon, then back to him once more before sighing and dragging a hand through my hair. “Okay, yeah, that sounds cool.”

“Be right back. It’ll be quick, I promise,” Lennon says to both of us but offers me a secret smile and then walks toward the exit.

And that’s how I end up squeezing all six foot four of me into that tiny-ass chair, coloring superheroes with a kid who’s got a bad heart and scars… just like me.