Kenzi doesn’t leave Otto’s side.
I do everything I can to ease his discomfort and flush the infection from his system, but in the end, it comes back to the same result: he needs a new kidney. Fast.
When I work, it’s through a haze. All I can think about is Otto.
I barely register when, halfway through my shift, Leonard King comes up to me and taps me on the arm.
“Donovan. A moment.”
I follow the other man to his office. I’ve worked in this hospital for almost ten years, but I could probably count on one hand the number of times I’ve been inside Mr. King’s office. He’s in his own tower, cut away from the rest of the hospital.
I’m immediately uncomfortable, but I sit down across from him anyway.
Sharks can smell fear. I don’t want him to catch the scent.
He presses his fingertips together, tenting his hands. “How is Kenzi’s boy doing?”
“Not great. Otto’s kidney enzymes are down from yesterday. He’s going to need a transplant soon.”
“How long?”
“I give it two weeks. If everything goes smoothly.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
I shake my head. “The infection could spread. Damage his other organs.”
King closes his eyes and tilts his head back. It’s as though he’s lost in thought, but the act itself is performative. There are no furrows in his brow.
“A shame,” he comes out with, finally. “How is his mother handling it?”
I feel a prickle of warning here. Why does he want to know about Kenzi? I keep it vague: “As well as anyone can.”
A smile cuts across Mr. King’s face. “I remember when you were kids. You two were practically glued at the hip, weren’t you?”
“I guess some things don’t change.”
“You have a special relationship with her. And Jason.”
My mouth clamps shut, jaw tightening. So that’s what this is about. “All due respect,” I say, “if you want to know about your son, you should probably ask him.”
A sharp smile crosses his lips. “This isn’t something I can discuss with him. He hasn’t been himself since he started living with you.”
Ants are crawling across my skin. I’ll be polite—because he’s my boss—but I don’t have to sit here and listen to this shit.
If he wants to believe I’m the bad influence that turned his son queer, that’s fine by me. I couldn’t care less. But I don’t have to put up with it.
“What do you want?” I ask, because I’m done beating around the bush.
He blinks. “This isn’t about what I want,” he says. “This is about what’s best for everyone involved.” His leather chair groans as he leans back into it. “I would like to help Otto. I have strings I can pull to ensure he gets what he needs. Under one condition.”
“What condition?”
“You leave Hannsett Island. Tomorrow.”
A burning in my throat, like cyanide. I can’t unclench my jaw.
He continues. “I’ve written you an excellent recommendation for Lenox Hill. They’re a great hospital. I’ll expedite the transfer.”
“But—”
“Your father’s debts have been washed clean. So have yours. You’ve served the Lighthouse well, and I commend you for your work here. Lenox is eager to have you.”
Being set free is a strange sensation when you never felt like you were in a cage.
“All due respect, sir…the Lighthouse Medical is where I was trained. It’s where I’ve always wanted to be. My patients are here. I don’t want to be anywhere else.”
“The change will be good for you,” he continues. “For all of us. For Otto and Kenzi, especially.” He reaches into his desk and pulls out a sheet of paper. He pushes it across the table to me, along with a pen. “I have your transfer documents already filled out. All you need to do is sign.”
Hannsett Island is my home. The Lighthouse Medical Center is the only hospital I ever wanted to work in. The thought of leaving Kenzi and Jason right now makes my stomach churn.
But there’s a second thought, a mantra, repeating over and over in my head:
Otto needs this. Otto needs this.
“What about my patients?” I ask.
“They’ll be in good hands,” he reassures me.
I stare at the black line on the document.
“And these strings you’re pulling—”
“That’s for me to worry about. Nothing illegal, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Honestly? It doesn’t seem beneath him to go straight for some black market trade.
When I don’t move, King presses. “Alternatively, you could stay. We could wait three to five months for another kidney to come available, if Otto lasts that long. Kenzi could lose her son, but I suppose these things happen. You know what that feels like to lose family, don’t you—?”
I swipe the pen off the desk and scribble my signature across the black line. As soon as it’s done, I drop the pen and put my hand back in my lap. I don’t want him to see my hands are shaking.
“You’re making the right decision,” he says.
“Are we done?”
He nods. I rise. My heart is pounding. I can’t get out of this room quickly enough.
But I pause with my hand on the door handle. There is one thing I can’t let go—
“Just so you know,” I tell him, “your son’s sexuality isn’t an illness that you can cure.”
His eyes don’t leave mine. “No,” he says, his voice shockingly calm, “but I can remove the tumor.”
His words are a knife between the ribs, but I push on. “Jason is a great guy. And if you spent less time trying to control him and more time supporting him for who he is, you’d see that.”
He says nothing at that. I walk out of his office, feeling as though I’m stepping out of a nightmare.
