Crimson Love (The Manor #2)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

A FINICKY BITCH

Jett

Death is a finicky bitch.

She’s always waiting in the wings, nipping at your heels, niggling in the back of your mind like an irritating gnat you just can’t swat away. No one ever knows when she’ll strike.

It could be decades. Could be next month. Or it could be tomorrow.

Hell, maybe it’s today.

I knew when I signed on the dotted line with Uncle Sam, I’d probably look that bitch in the eyes a time or two. Spoiler—it was more than five but less than I can count on my fingers.

And, yeah, I still have all ten of them.

I thought that’s how I’d meet my maker—in combat, on a secret mission, or at least on patrol. That’s how heroes die. “Here lies a great, brave man who took his last breath too soon, but he did it for the greater good and was a badass right up until the ugly, bitter end.”

What I did not think would happen is me in a blinking contest with death because I failed my physical due to high blood pressure.

I’m six-four, two-ten, and have seven percent body fat. I lift and workout like I need it to breathe.

Or I did. That was before the diagnosis. That’s how I measure everything in life these days.

Before diagnosis.

After diagnosis.

I had some kidney stones off and on in the years prior, but so does eleven percent of the population. I looked that shit up when I was convinced my doctors had lost their damn minds.

That was the day the Army said, “You, Cross, are unfit for duty. We will not be liable when you fall over and croak, so enjoy the rest of your career sitting your ass at a desk.”

I was forced to say goodbye to the squad I’d led for two years and push paper around. It was mind numbing in a way that made my skin crawl. I survived years of action on the front lines only to bang my head against the wall while checking email.

It was not for me.

As soon as they offered the medical discharge, I took it. If I was going to be sidelined, I’d work by my own rules, not Uncle Sam bossing my sickly ass around.

That diagnosis changed everything.

Polycystic kidney disease.

PK-fucking-D.

It’s mostly passed through genes, and since my mom died a tragic death before I slept through the night, and it turns out it wasn’t given to me by my sperm donor, I had no other family to give me a history. Just to make shit even more fun, the sperm donor didn’t know about me all these years.

I’d question that in any other Lifetime movie. But for some reason, I believe the man who’s been, without one shred of doubt, proven to be my father through DNA tests.

If I ran into the guy on the street before all this shit went down, I don’t think I’d look at him, have some ray of light from the heavens shine down on us, and we’d realize we were related.

But now that we’ve met, even I can see it.

And it’s creepy as hell when you realize you look like a complete stranger.

I never would have known him if it weren’t for the damn PKD diagnosis. I had no choice but to kick over every rock from the day I was born until now. I didn’t do it out of blatant curiosity.

Nope.

I did it because the day the Army docs told me that bitch would be taking me down sooner rather than later, it was a game of life and death. Even though I lead an extremely boring existence since Uncle Sam benched me, I’m dead set on kicking the bitch in the ass.

That’s how I found the Madisons. I thought I had no one after Grandma died, but I have a father and a sister. Patrick and Harlow.

Leave it to me to be broke and broken only to find out my father is a billionaire, and my sister is the princess philanthropist who graces the covers of tabloids and walks red carpets giving away our father’s money.

Just my fucking luck that I’d end up with a billionaire family at a point in my life when no amount of money will solve my problems. Cash is not king, but vital organs are. A healthy, working kidney is at the top of my wish list.

I set out to find my sperm donor. On the off chance I was able to do that, I thought I’d have to beg, plead, and borrow to ask them to test. It’s a good thing my new family isn’t a bunch of assholes.

I didn’t expect my half-sister to offer that up without a blink of an eye.

And I really didn’t expect it to be a perfect match.

But to not even have to ask her to give me a spare kidney?

Yeah, I hit the jackpot.

Not only was she willing to part with one of hers, but she also wants the full-on family experience. She emotionally blackmailed me into moving to the west coast to give family time a try.

Who was I to argue? Hell, I was getting a new lease on life. Giving in to my younger sister’s wish to live in a mountain town was the easiest thing I’ve ever done.

Don’t get me wrong. Harlow is damn cool. But I didn’t mince words when I told her I’d chase a healthy kidney around the world if it meant she’d share one with me.

I didn’t even have to ask let alone beg. She was crazy enough to cry and hug me so long, I didn’t think she’d ever let go.

“Jett, can you hear me?”

It’s Harlow.

I don’t know how I can be this heavy and numb at the same time, but I recognize my sister’s raspy insistent words cutting through the fog.

It’s a different heavy than what’s weighed me down the last few years. That was all-consuming. At the risk of sounding like a chick, I’d go so far to say it was soul crushing.

“Open your eyes.”

Damn, my sister is demanding.

“He’s coming around. Give him a minute.” That’s someone I don’t recognize.

“But he needs to know,” Harlow insists.

“Baby, give him a minute to wake up. He’s got the rest of his life to get used to his new normal.” The English accent goes hand in hand with Harlow. One is never without the other. He’s glued to her like some freak—a love-sick man, which I guess he is.

But new normal?

Damn. That doesn’t sound good.

“I want to be the one to tell him,” Harlow goes on as reality breaks through my drug-induced haze. “He needs to hear it from me.”

Fuck.

That sounds really bad.

If the universe could just open up, swallow me whole, and put me out of my miserable, lonely existence, I’d appreciate it.

“Jett.” Harlow won’t give up. Her pleas turn to begging even though her voice is as weak as I feel. “Please open your eyes.”

I swallow over my dry throat and sputter through a cough, “Yeah.”

“He’s awake,” Harlow announces.

“I told you so,” a woman sing-songs louder than necessary.

If it’s bad news, Chipper Sally could at least have the decency to tone it down a notch, but no.

She just won’t stop. “It takes some people longer than others. Don’t be surprised if he wakes up emotional.

It happens with operational anxiety and disorientation.

It can be extreme from tears to hulk syndrome. My job isn’t easy.”

Now this chick is mocking me. That’s fucking great, Chipper Sally. I hope you don’t have any bum organs, and the maintenance team judges you while you’re fighting for your life.

If anything, I need to open my eyes and fire the woman. If I’m not going to make it, it doesn’t matter if I’m an asshole or not.

Who am I kidding? Even if I weren’t sick and dying, I don’t have it in me.

I drag my eyes open and recognize the annoying woman I nicknamed Sally.

I have no idea what her real name is. She’s looking down at me through a stupid-ass grin plastered on her face.

The depressing tones from machines beep all around me—I almost feel the sadness in the air.

“There he is. Awake, just like I said he would be. Your sister is not a patient woman. I had to wheel her in sooner than we normally do. She insisted she be here when you woke up.”

“Jett,” Harlow calls from my side.

I blink a few more times, and it takes all my energy to turn my head on my pillow.

Harlow is lying in the bed next to me with Devon glued to her side.

I’m surprised he didn’t cuff himself to her and demand to be present for the procedure.

If the look on his face has anything to do with Harlow’s prognosis, then at least she’s going to be okay.

I’m glad. She did risk everything for me.

“Good to see you awake, Jett,” Devon drawls.

It seems that’s the best news I’ll get today.

“She’s okay?” I demand, barely able to get the words out.

Devon lifts his chin before turning his attention to Harlow next to me. “She’s perfect. As good as she can be, mate.”

I don’t say anything and direct my attention to her. The only thing I feel pulsing through my veins is guilt for wanting this. Guilt for putting her at risk. And guilt for all of this being for nothing.

She’s smiling, and tears streak her temples. “You’re good.”

I blink.

Then I blink again as my muddled brain processes what she said.

Harlow’s whispered words are full of emotion. “The transplant worked. Your body loves my kidney.”

That soul-crushing weight pressing down on me lifts. “It worked?”

She nods. “Without a hitch. They said it was textbook. It’s early, so they’re not making any lifetime proclamations, but you’re young and strong. Jett, you’re going to be okay.”

An energy pulses through me that I haven’t felt in years.

I’m not shallow enough to think it’s real, body-racing energy.

No. It’s the kind fueled by hope instead of edging on the brink of death for a change.

I lift my hand, yank off the oxygen monitor clipped to my finger, and reach across the small space to my sister.

We both ignore the monitor going batshit crazy alerting the masses that I have no oxygen to my body, but no one cares. Not even Chipper Sally. I take her hand in mine and squeeze.

“It worked,” I repeat.

Her tears stream stronger than before. “Yes. I just found you. If you think I’m going to let you die, then you have no idea who I really am.

The only thing I’ve ever wanted in life was family.

I don’t care how much better of a name you got.

You’re stuck with me for a long, long time, Jett Parker Cross. ”

I’ve heard my entire name rattled off more times than I can count since I tracked down my half-sister. I’m not used to anyone being obsessed with anything about me. I’m also not used to constant hugs, shared meals, or talking about fucked-up things...

Like the future.

But Harlow is obsessed with all those things and more.

“Your dad is waiting to see you both. Do you want me to send for him?” Devon asks.

“Give me a moment,” I mutter. “I just need a minute.”

Harlow gives my hand a weak squeeze. “Take all the time you want, Jett. You have a long, healthy life ahead of you. I can’t wait to see what you’re going to do with it, even if Dad does think he has plans for us.”

Devon leans down and places a kiss on her forehead. “Don’t jinx him, baby. The rest of us had to go through hell and back to get where we are.”

Been there, done that, and don’t need a repeat trip.

I’ve gone through enough torture to last a lifetime.

I moved to Winslet, a.k.a. small-town U.S.A.

for a reason. Sure my newfound sister is here, and the father I’m still getting to know has promised to visit regularly, but I needed a new start along with my new kidney.

A slow, easy life.

Besides, what the hell can go wrong in a sleepy little place like this?