11. Chapter Eleven Kieran #2
She glared at me, clearly torn between telling me off and realizing I wasn’t going to back down. Finally, she exhaled sharply. “Fine. But if you pull any shit, I swear to God—”
“Hey, you said no unnecessary questions. This is all necessary.”
The nurse gave us both an awkward smile, clearly not sure what to make of the exchange. “Right this way.”
Ruby huffed but turned to follow the nurse, muttering under her breath. I followed her through the door, trying not to let the tension show on my face.
The nurse led us down a short hallway lined with exam rooms. The walls were painted a pale beige, the kind of sterile, lifeless color meant to be calming but only made the place feel more depressing.
Ruby’s shoulders were stiff as we walked, and I could see how hard she was working to keep her composure.
The nurse gestured toward an open door. “In here.”
Ruby stepped inside, and I followed, ignoring the way she shot me another glare.
The room was small, with an exam table, a rolling stool, and a countertop cluttered with medical supplies.
Ruby sank carefully onto the exam table, cradling her injured hand against her stomach.
I leaned against the wall, watching her closely.
The nurse grabbed a clipboard and turned back to us. “Okay, Ruby, I’m just going to take some vitals and get a little more information. Can I see your hand?”
Ruby hesitated for a moment before holding out her hand.
The makeshift gauze wrap Kieran had done earlier was stained deep red, stuck to her skin.
The nurse frowned as she gently unwrapped it, revealing the gash across her palm.
It was deep, the edges jagged where the glass had cut into her.
Dried blood caked her fingers, and fresh blood began to pool again as soon as the gauze was removed.
The nurse made a sympathetic sound. “Looks nasty. You got cut on glass?”
Ruby nodded stiffly. “Halogen light bulb.”
“Those shatter like crazy,” the nurse said, grabbing antiseptic wipes. “You probably still have shards in there. We’ll clean it and check for any fragments under the skin. Wait. Are you the Ruby Marquez? Running for DA?”
“Yeah,” Ruby replied.
“Oh my goodness,” the nurse said. “I can’t wait to vote for you.
Trust me, as someone who sees everything the mob does to our city—all the violence, all the addiction, all the stabbings—I can’t wait for someone to clean up our streets.
I’m so sorry this happened. I hope it cheers you up that you have a vote here, though! ”
Ruby swallowed, her eyes flickering to me for a second. “Yes,” she said, her voice shaky as her gaze darted away from my face. “I’m, uh, glad to hear it.”
Ruby winced as the nurse gently cleaned the wound. I watched her carefully, noting the way her face paled but didn’t betray any pain beyond a tight jaw.
The nurse jotted something down. "We’ll also flag a full antibody screening, just precautionary."
Ruby’s shoulders stiffened, her gaze flicking toward the window for half a second before she masked it.
"Standard procedure, right?" she said lightly, too lightly.
"Yeah," the nurse replied, distracted.
I watched Ruby out of the corner of my eye, filing that reaction away. The way she froze, the way her breath hitched just slightly before she masked it.
I caught that. The shift. The tension. It wasn’t just about the injury.
It was something she didn’t want me to notice.
And now, I wasn’t just curious. I needed to know.
Ruby nodded. “Yeah. I had the Rh complications flagged during my pregnancy.”
My ears perked at that. Complications.
The nurse moved on quickly, checking Ruby’s blood pressure and heart rate. “Everything’s a bit elevated, which is to be expected with the pain and stress. We’ll get the doctor in soon to numb your hand and clean the wound properly. Do you want some painkillers in the meantime?”
Ruby shook her head. “No. I’m fine.”
The nurse raised an eyebrow but didn’t push it. “Alright, hang tight. I’ll be back shortly.” She gave us a polite smile and left the room, closing the door behind her.
The silence that followed was thick, like the air had been sucked out of the room. Ruby flexed her injured hand slightly, wincing before resting it carefully on her lap.
“You don’t have to act tough, you know,” I said after a moment.
She shot me a glare. “I’m not acting. I’m fine.” She flexed her fingers again, wincing. Her ring finger was bare, but the tan line was still there, faint but unmistakable.
“So your husband, maybe ex. Are you going to tell me what the deal with him is?” I asked before I caught myself.
“Wow,” she said. “How is that any of your business?”
“I’m just making conversation.”
She shook her head, waving me off. “If you must know, Julian is an incredibly involved father. He always has been. Our problems are our own.”
I crossed my arms, leaning against the counter. “Fair enough. But you didn’t exactly deny that there were complications.”
Ruby’s eyes narrowed, her voice sharp. “You’re pushing your luck, Kieran.”
I shrugged, refusing to back down. “Maybe. But there’s something you’re not telling me.”
She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “There are a lot of things I’m not telling you,” she replied. “You lost the right to have me tell you anything when you ghosted me. There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, and you never will.”
For a moment, something flickered in her eyes—pain, vulnerability, something raw that she didn’t want me to see. But just as quickly, it vanished behind her walls.
Before either of us could say more, the door opened, and the doctor walked in. Ruby’s expression hardened instantly, her back straightening as she masked whatever had been lurking beneath the surface.
The doctor gave us a polite nod. “Ruby Marquez? Let’s take a look at that hand. We’ll need to get some scans to check for glass fragments.”
The doctor prodded around Ruby’s hand, making her wince again. He scribbled some notes on his clipboard, his expression serious but routine.
“What about the antibodies?” I asked. “Is that a thing you do whenever someone cuts their hand?”
“It’s just a precaution,” the doctor answered as Ruby opened her mouth in surprise. “With rare blood types and Rh incompatibility, it's good practice to stay ahead of any potential issues. In case your wife were to ever need, or, if you know, she needs surger--”
“Yeah, I know,” Ruby said softly, too quickly “Just…do whatever you need to.”
The doctor paused but nodded. "Right. I’ll send the nurse in soon for prep." He glanced between us, sensing some kind of tension, but wisely didn’t press. A moment later, he left the room.
I crossed my arms and leaned back against the counter.
“Really? You’re keeping this husband thing up?” Ruby asked. “God, you’re such an asshole.”
“I was curious,” I said. “And yeah, maybe a little worried.”
The door opened again before I could press her further, and the nurse walked in with her usual chipper professionalism.
“Let’s get you prepped for the scan,” the nurse said, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension in the room.
Ruby slid off the exam table and followed the nurse, not sparing me another glance. Her shoulders were stiff, and her silence felt like a wall slamming down between us.
I watched her leave, a nagging feeling pulling at the back of my mind. But I brushed it off. Probably just her being weird and private like always. Still, I couldn’t help wondering why the mention of her medical history had shaken her like that. It didn’t make sense. Not yet.
For the first time since I started digging, it felt like Ruby was scared of me knowing something.
And for the first time, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know.
***
So I waited.
I should’ve left. I didn’t.
I sat in the vinyl chair that had probably seen a hundred other assholes try to pretend they weren’t panicking.
Scrolled through my phone. Played solitaire.
Started and abandoned three different articles.
Called Tristan and hung up before it rang.
Checked Ruby’s name in my contacts like it might suddenly give me a clue. It didn’t.
Eventually, I wandered down to the gift shop.
It smelled like stale popcorn and cheap air freshener. I bought a bottle of water, a pack of gum, and—God help me—a stuffed dinosaur that said You’re T-Rex-Cellent! on its chest. I told myself it was for Rosie. I didn’t really know why I bought it.
The old woman behind the counter asked if I was visiting my wife.
“Something like that,” I muttered.
I spent a few minutes studying the hospital map like I might stumble on the truth somewhere between Radiology and the vending machines. No one asked me to leave. I was dressed nice enough. Walked like I belonged. It wasn’t hard to look like a husband pacing the halls.
I even filled out a visitor feedback card. Left it blank except for a single comment:
Your vending machine ate my dollar. Also, Ruby Marquez deserves a bed by a window.
I didn’t sign it.
All I could do was wait.