17. Julia
CHAPTER 17
Julia
My eyes are full of unshed tears, yet I manage to scan the list of names in my hand as my mind whirls at a million miles a minute. Name after name unfolds before me, like something you would see at the end of a movie—pages of them. Maybe I’m in shock, but I can’t stop looking at the sheer number of names in my hands.
Every single name was a person desperate for the care they needed but denied with a swipe of the computer. Imagine seeing these and turning them away anyway. How could he?
As my eyes roam, they snag on one glaringly familiar name, and all the breath in my lungs exhales sharply.
No.
But there it is. Unmistakable in black and white. My mother’s name. Claim denied.
It’s like a stab to the gut all over again. I’m right back in that hospital room, begging the doctor to do something—anything, to save her. The phone calls with the robotic-sounding answering service for hours at a time, trying to get a hold of someone who would listen. It all comes flooding back, and I see red. Fury pumps through my veins, and a dark thought slithers through my mind—I’m glad the man responsible for so much evil is dead.
I admonish myself. What would mother say if she knew your thoughts just now.
But you know what? My mother isn’t here. What my mom would want is to still be here. To binge-watch Gilmore Girls one more time, hearing her giggle along to the witty banter, talking about how much she loves Luke, and look at me lovingly saying, “That’s us, kid.” when talking about Lorelai and Rory.
That man, that CEO, helped take her from me. She had the chance to stay here with me for five to ten more years. The studies on the medication showed she could have had a chance. She was a prime candidate. All her levels checked out. Her team of medical professionals were all on board. The only thing that stopped my mom from receiving the medication she so desperately needed was the goddamn insurance company.
Each of these names was a person with a similar story to ours.
A life.
A loved one. Countless hopes and dreams were all cut short by the vile greed of one man.
I stand, papers falling, but the one with my mother’s name is crumpled tightly in my fist.
Anger, hot and visceral—full of sharp edges and vicious truths, bubbles up inside of me. It’s as if someone is holding an iron to my skin, boiling my veins until the rage takes over my entire body, making me stomp off in search of Max.
I find him slumped over his knees, hands cradling his head. His gaze snaps to mine instantly, and he jumps to his feet.
“ Bella—”
“Did you know?” I’m practically vibrating.
“Kn-know what?” His arms are raised in surrender, but I step closer, waving the paper in front of his face.
“That her name was on this list?”
His eyes dart around my face, searching for what I don’t know.
“Who’s name?”
“My mother’s!” The words are practically dripping with venom.
I see the moment it lands, hitting him like a swift punch to the gut. His eyebrows raise, and dark eyes widen as his mouth falls. “I had no idea, I swear.”
His hands grip my arms, thumbs rubbing along the backs. I can feel myself sway forward, craving his touch. The soothing feel of his skin on mine, chasing away the ghosts that threaten to break me.
“He helped kill her.” I manage to say, my words coming out shaken, the anger ebbing into something more devastating, something that sounds too close to the grief that I’ve carried with me since her passing.
Max pulls me towards him, and I give in, letting him cradle me. Forehead to forehead, his dark eyes bore into mine. “And now he can never hurt anyone ever again.”
A sob wrenches free from my throat, and my knees give, crumpling us both to the ground in a heap of tangled limbs and broken hearts. Both of us left scarred by the actions of this man, made under the guise of saving money when, in reality, it was meant to fatten his already thick pockets.
“I—miss—her,” I say, gasping between sobs.
His hands run down the back of my head, pulling me into his strong chest. I grip onto him as tears fall freely.
“I know.” He says, and I stare up at him, tears tracking my face, my lashes heavy with the weight of them.
Max is a murderer, but so was that CEO. One drew blood with a gun, and the other with a news release and a smile on his face, being praised by the cameras.
So why is one more acceptable than the other?
Max and his cousins are being hunted by the authorities. I’ve seen the videos begging for people with any information to come forward. The reward money is being flashed about before our eyes like a lure. The disgust the media is trying to elicit from an uncaring public. Surprise, people stop caring when you keep screwing them over. How can you expect us to care when they clearly don’t care about us?
I reach up and touch Max’s face, where a tear of his own has escaped and trailed down his prominent cheek bone.
“She would have liked you.”
He chuckles at that. “I would have loved to have met the woman who raised the woman who’s captured my heart.”
This thing between us should have me packing up and running in the other direction.
Why, then, do I find myself reaching for him, bringing his lips down to mine? Our mouths brushing together gently, tasting like salty tears and an unspoken promise.