Chapter 17 Sunflowers Don’t Lie
A single sunflower awaits me at the nurse’s station when I arrive at work.
My heart plummets.
What? How is it here?
“Medical Staff Appreciation Day, apparently,” Rachel says, holding up her flower. “I got one too.”
“Since when did they start doing these ‘appreciation days’?” I ask, my eyes still glued to the flower.
“No idea. Honestly, if they want to appreciate us, just give us better pay and more PTO.” Rachel’s expression shifts into one of concern. “Are you okay, Aria? You seem troubled.”
I graze one silky yellow petal before rolling up my sleeve and tracing my tattoo.
“I’m fine. Late night. Didn’t sleep much.”
Unease tightens as I stare at the floral gift. It looks exactly like the ones I got at the apartment this morning, down to the white butcher paper and the silk bow.
“Sunshine. You need sunshine in your life,” Blake had said the day he proposed.
What are the chances the hospital’s decided to start a new tradition with his favorite flower?
I grip the engagement ring hanging around my neck—a perfect sunflower encrusted with diamonds.
Blake’s dead. You held his icy hand in the morgue. You watched them lower his casket six feet under. I don’t know who sent me the surprise this morning, but perhaps they were a gesture of comfort. Like someone wanted to tell me they miss him too.
But my gut tells me that this isn’t it. It’s a move on a chessboard, except I didn’t even realize I was playing a game.
There are no such things as coincidences.
That’s what Sofia said before. I should call her. Let her know I got flowers this morning, that they were Blake’s favorite—
What if Reaper sent them because he wanted to bring a smile to my face?
Under the stark fluorescent lights, logic crashes back in. What was I thinking, letting an online pen pal and dangerous vigilante inside my apartment at night?
There’s spiraling and then there’s stupidity, and I’m well past the first and flirting with the second now.
I’ll text Reaper later. Tell him not to visit anymore. I can’t bring myself to report him to the cops, and honestly, what am I going to say, anyway? I have a secret admirer to whom I’ve confessed murderous thoughts, who then made them a reality?
Oh, and I have no proof at all. Just words.
They’d take away my license before I could say sorry.
Despite this, the thought of losing Reaper lands heavier than it should.
But it’s the right, sensible choice.
Mind made up, I log onto my computer to review the open cases. My stomach grumbles. I skipped breakfast and haven’t gone to the market yet, so my pantry’s empty.
The department is unusually quiet this morning, but I’m not complaining. Only half the beds are filled. There are patients in the lobby, and from the notes, they appear to be your basic flu and cold cases and a few repeat elderly visitors.
I try to make time for the latter because I think they’re lonely, and the ER is where they can get someone to care about them.
It’s sad.
“Hey, Aria. Do you have a second?” a gentle male voice says.
I glance up to find Dr. Cavendish looking extra dapper today in a black business suit.
I straighten. “What’s up? Didn’t know you were on call today.”
He runs his fingers through his brown hair. “Board meeting. Finance committee.” He grimaces like the words taste bad. “God knows why they appointed me. Probably because no one wanted the job.”
I laugh. “Moving up the ranks. Don’t forget about us, Doc.”
He grins, but it fades fast. Leaning down, he whispers, “I need to speak to you about something. Something private.”
I catch Rachel’s frown from across the station.
I shrug and follow Dr. Cavendish into one of the empty exam rooms.
He closes the curtains, and I take a seat. He follows suit.
“Aria, a task I was asked to perform for the board is reviewing the hospital budget,” he says. “Target planning for the upcoming quarters. Stuff like that.”
“Okay?” I reply, not sure where this is going.
He continues, “To prepare, I reviewed what my predecessor did for the last few years.” A tension brackets his mouth. “And when I looked deeper, I saw something…strange.”
My pulse kicks. “What does this have to do with me, Doc?”
He hesitates. “Call me Kevin. I’m not your boss right now.”
I nod, my nerves tightening.
“Aria, the anomaly relates to cardiology. When I compared the cardiac caseloads from two years ago to last year and now,” he frowns and continues, “there’s a strange drop. Steep and unexpected. Then the numbers rebound.”
My stomach sinks.
Cardiology.
“Blake. You’re asking me because of Blake.”
Blake was the head of cardiology.
Kevin nods and pulls out his cell phone, swiping on it before turning it over to show me.
“Here’s the data. See? We have the same volumes of patients admitted, but then drastic decreases in follow-ups,” he says.
“I mean, unless all those cases were false alarms or minor issues, which statistically seems impossible…”
I think about the sunflower bouquet this morning—perfectly wrapped, too intentional.
Then there’s that cryptic note.
True love doesn’t forget.
“Did Blake ever mention anything? Cases getting rerouted, stuff like that?”
“No.” I shake my head. “Nothing.”
“Did he seem less busy before…” Kevin’s voice trails off.
Before he died.
My skin itches like ants are crawling all over me. “He was always busy. Nothing was different.”
Kevin studies me, his gaze sharp, like he’s trying to determine if I’m lying.
I swallow. “I swear. If I knew anything, I’d tell you.”
His expression shifts, his eyes softening. “I believe you. I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation.” He takes back his phone. “I’m sorry for blindsiding you and dredging up the past. See you back out there.”
I nod mutely and walk out of the room.
My mind floods with questions I have no answers for.
The bounty. Reaper. And now this.
I run through my memories of Blake, every conversation before he died, all the late nights, every time he sobbed on my shoulder because a patient didn’t make it.
Whenever I visited his clinic, he was busy—patients waiting, phones ringing off the hook, his team orbiting him with practiced efficiency and absolute trust.
Blake couldn’t be involved in anything shady, right?
By the time I’m back at my desk, I’m texting Sofia.
Then the air shifts. The hairs on the back of my neck rise.
Someone’s staring at me.
I glance up and scan my surroundings.
And there he is—sitting in his usual spot, this time appearing completely uninjured.
When Ren catches me looking, he slowly stands, unhurried.
This time, it feels different to have that dangerous stillness moving straight at me. Maybe because of what happened at Arcana under the full moon. Or maybe something has been simmering all along, and I didn’t notice it until now.
My heart trips.
“I swear…what’s up with that guy?” Rachel asks. “Haven’t seen him in a while, and now he’s back.”
“I-I’m not sure,” I say, unable to look away.
He moves with the confidence of someone who knows exactly how much space his body takes up and what it does to a room.
An object around his waist glints in the light.
A gun.
How did he get that in here? With all the metal detectors?
“Why are you here again, Ren? And you better not say hunting accident.” I lean forward. “I thought you guys said I was safe in the hospital.”
His dark-brown eyes lighten as he takes out his phone and types.
Ren
You are. But I thought about what you said in the courtyard. I want to take you up on it.
I blink. “On what?”
He types again.
Ren
You said you knew people.
Oh. Of course. He’s here for his sister. I won’t analyze the disappointment niggling in my gut.
“Yeah. The new head of cardiology. I’ll reach out on my break. Send me her medical files?”
He nods, but doesn’t leave.
“How’s she doing?” When he tilts his head to the side, I add, “Celia. That’s her name, right?”
A soft smile curves his lips, like he’s pleased I remember.
But then he frowns.
Ren
She’s more tired. Paler. Cold hands. I’m worried. I’m visiting her later today.
“We’ll find something. I’ll contact Dr. Kavanaugh. Maybe there’s an experimental medicine trial going on.” My mind whirls, thinking back to what Blake used to say about his cases. Sometimes there are research grants looking for participants.
Too bad I don’t know Dr. Kavanaugh’s team. Shelly would’ve known who to ask, but she and the rest of Blake’s old crew all went their separate ways after he passed. Nurses usually have the best intel.
“Or I can visit her?” I offer. “Sometimes patients need to talk to someone who understands this medical stuff. Not that she can’t talk to you. But you kinda don’t talk, so—”
He grabs my hand. A zap ripples through me.
Holding my gaze, he lifts my fingers and presses a gentle kiss on my knuckles. Air rushes out of my lungs.
“Thank you,” he mouths.
Time suspends for a beat, then I hear someone clear their throat.
Quickly, I tug out of his grip and look away.
“Is there…something else?”
Another strange moment passes as I fiddle with the papers on my desk, my skin on fire.
My phone pings.
Ren
Did you eat breakfast yet? You should. It’s not good to skip it.
The funny sensation is back in my gut.
Before I can answer him, he places a small plastic bag I hadn’t noticed before on the desk.
“Thanks.” I glance up shyly at him.
Ren
Go on, open it. See if you like it.
Curiosity gets the best of me, and I peer inside and take out a coffee.
Decaf. One sugar. Splash of milk.
Seriously? Does everyone know my coffee order?
“How do you—”
“Shhh.” He pulls out a package from the bag, clearly thinking I’m too slow.
It’s wrapped tightly, and after a few unsuccessful tugs, he growls and takes out a knife.
My eyes widen.
“How did you get that in here? And your gun?” I ask. “Weapons aren’t allowed in the ER.”
He lifts a brow, an arrogant smirk on his lips.
Ren
Nothing is ever restricted for people like us. Hospitals remember generosity. Especially if a new wing is involved.
Hold on. Something clicks.
“You were the anonymous donor for the new children’s wing?” I whisper-shout.