Chapter Sixteen

Seven Years Earlier

Autosomal dominant polycystic kidney disease.

That’s what they’d diagnosed Madden with. Blindsided, he’d sat and listened to the doctor explain the rare, genetic condition

that had caused a healthy seventeen-year-old’s kidney to enlarge and stop filtering blood properly. And perhaps with the pessimism

that came with being Irish, he’d fully expected to be dead by now. But only two days before he was set to begin dialysis,

the doctors had informed him of the donor. Someone planned to carve an organ out of their own body to be transplanted inside

his. It didn’t make sense.

Why would someone do that for him?

Why didn’t they want to be named?

Madden came very close to rejecting the offer. The doctors, nurses, even his friends had questioned his sanity. They’d assured

him the opportunity might not come around again, and Jesus, he’d thought, Who is going to look after Eve?

Everyone else would be fine without him.

Skylar and Elton had their lovely, if freakishly fit parents.

His aunt enjoyed her solitude and had only offered to let him stay because he didn’t disturb her peace or expect her to get involved with his daily life.

Phone calls with his siblings and mother had grown more infrequent lately, their lives getting busier and, he suspected, speaking with him only dredged up the darker times they wanted to forget.

Perhaps Madden’s father had even instructed them to keep communication minimal.

But Eve. Who was watching out for her while he was laid up in bed? Her father wasn’t a bad sort, but they weren’t close. Same

with her sister.

“Where is she?” Madden asked for what seemed like the four-thousandth time. “Where is Eve?”

It had been four days since the surgery and he loathed the weakness of his limbs, his bones. The lethargy that was slow to

dissipate, though it would. They’d assured him it would. But Eve hadn’t been to see him once.

Skylar and Elton, who stood at the end of his hospital bed, exchanged a shrug, Elton looking unconcerned. Skylar, however,

had a furrow between her brows, as if she didn’t understand Eve’s absence either. “She hasn’t been in school. When I texted

her, she said she’s just been sick. It must be a pretty bad flu.” Skylar seemed to force a smile. “She asked how you’re doing,

though. I told her you came through with flying colors.”

“Let’s focus on the important stuff,” Elton said. “The doctor says five more weeks until you can start throwing a ball again.”

“Gently,” Skylar stressed.

Elton waved that off. “Don’t worry, though. You’ll be back in peak condition for the summer league. I hear the scouts show

up to the games. Try and snatch up some last-minute talent. You’ve still got a shot.”

“Grand,” Madden muttered. He wanted to press the issue about Eve. Someone needed to go check on her. A week without school? Was she afraid to go without him there to keep the arseholes at bay? If so, he needed to get the hell out of this bed. Sooner than later. He was useless here.

“Could you hand me a shirt?” Madden asked Elton, pointing to the small hospital room closet. Slowly, he turned and slung his

legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the sharp discomfort in his lower right side, the unforgiving weakness of his muscles.

Have to get stronger. “I’m going for a walk.”

The Page siblings froze. “I don’t think you’re supposed to leave yet, Mad,” said Skylar. “Let me get a nurse.”

“I’m going.”

“Is this a food thing?” Elton asked, eyebrow raised. “I can bring you some takeout.”

“It’s not a food thing. I just need to get out of here—”

The hospital room door opened on a slow creak.

Eve stood on the other side.

Relief hit Madden like a wooden bat to the chest.

All right. Okay. There she is. She’s fine.

In an oversize sweatshirt and a messy ponytail, she looked worse for the wear. Paler than usual. Smaller than usual? Or was

he just disoriented?

“Goddamn, Eve,” Elton said. “You look like shit.”

Skylar smacked him in the shoulder before turning to her friend. “Dude. You’re alive.” She bounded forward to usher Eve into

the room. “You must have been supersick to miss all the action. They sliced Madden open, moved some stuff around. But look

at him now, he’s good as new.”

“So it seems.” Eve gave Madden a half smile. “Sorry, I didn’t want to get you sick when you’d just been through surgery. I would have visited.” He managed a nod to let her know it was okay, which seemed to relax some of the tension in her shoulders. “How do you feel?”

Confused. Frustrated. Grateful.

And since she’d arrived, he no longer wanted to claw off his skin. “Better.”

Her throat worked. “Good.” In a familiar movement, she lifted onto her toes and dropped back down, a signal she was getting

ready to run. “Well—”

“I wouldn’t have come to the hospital, if not for you, Eve,” Madden said, needing to get the sentiment off his chest, where

it had been sitting for weeks. “At least not as early as I did. Thank you for that.”

“Yeah,” Skylar said, giving her best friend a side hug. “How did you know something was wrong?”

“Too much Grey’s Anatomy, I guess.” Eve laughed. And did her face get whiter, along with the sound? “It’s no problem, Mad. Glad everything worked

out.”

“Who do you think the anonymous donor is?” Elton asked the room at large, his expression cagey. “It’s probably our baseball

coach. He’s that desperate to get you back behind the plate.”

“I don’t know who it is,” Madden said. “But I’m going to find out.”

Skylar wasn’t engaged in the conversation. She was looking at Eve, who, to his horror, swayed on her feet. Thankfully, Skylar

propped her up before Madden could dive out of the bed to catch her. “That flu must have kicked your ass,” Skylar said, visibly

worried. “You’re, like, zoned out.”

“I know, right?” Eve shook herself. “Probably should have stayed in bed one more day. I’m fine, though.”

“Drive her home now, Elton,” Madden said, feeling helpless.

Elton smirked. “I’m going to allow you to order me around this once, since you just had major surgery, but don’t make it a habit.”

Madden stayed silent, watching the trio leave the room.

Something scratched at his subconscious, a parallel attempting to draw itself, but his brain fog didn’t allow the thought

to complete. He was out of bed a moment later, preparing to do battle against his mental and physical fatigue, motivated by

something he didn’t dare name.

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