Chapter 36
Dylan - eight years later
My screams came out muffled, as if I were underwater.
Swallowed by the walls of my mom’s bedroom and the soft beeping of hospital machines.
Dad had me locked against him. My arms strained forward, fingers stretching toward my mom lying still in the hospital bed they’d set up in her room.
Her head rested on the pillow, turned slightly to the side.
Her mouth was parted just enough to look like she might breathe again.
She looked asleep. Like if I waited a little bit, she’d blink and move. And tell me it was okay.
But she didn’t.
“Mom!” I sobbed, the sound tearing out of my chest so violently it hurt my throat. “No, Mom, don’t leave me here!”
Grandma was crying so hard her whole body shook. She pulled my mom’s lifeless body into her arms, rocking her back and forth, pressing her cheek against Mom’s head as if she could love her back to life. Like refusing to let go might change something.
I shoved harder against Dad, but his arms stayed tight.
“Let me go!” I screamed. “Now!”
His face stayed stiff and flat. “You need to calm down!”
Not one tear slid down his face. Not even a shine in his eyes. Just impatience. This was an inconvenience for him. Like Mom dying was something we needed to get over with quickly.
Piece of shit.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Amanda step closer and place a hand on his shoulder. Her fingers were steady and calm. She shook her head once, a slow and deliberate motion, and only then did he release me.
The second his grip loosened, my body lurched forward.
I fell against the bed so hard my hip hit the rail, but I barely felt it.
I wrapped my arms around my mom’s cold body, over Grandma’s, and clung to her.
She was so cold. Not cool—ice cold. The kind that told me, in the most horrific way possible, that she was really gone forever.
That she would never smile at me again. Never hug me or kiss me again.
Never hold me again when the world was falling apart around me and all I needed to survive was my mom’s unconditional love.
“No,” I choked out, burying my face against her shoulder. “No, no, no. Take me with you,” I sobbed. “Please, Mom. Don’t leave me here. Take me with you.”
Ethan and Lila came in and screamed at the same time. Their voices bounced off the walls and stabbed me like knives. Dad just stood there, hands hanging uselessly at his sides as if watching strangers fall apart.
Amanda moved fast, scooping Ethan up. His small arms wrapped around her neck. Lila just stood there sobbing until my dad finally took her into his arms.
The cries.
The sobbing.
The screaming.
It felt like we would all suffocate.
My heart shattered so violently, I thought I might actually die right here with her. Maybe hearts really could break and kill people. Maybe mine was cut to pieces inside me, and I would just drop dead beside my mom and go wherever she had gone. The thought felt good in this moment. Like mercy.
How could life do this to me? How could life be so cruel?
Then, suddenly, the scene changed.
No warning. No soft fade. One second, the bedroom. The next, asphalt under my sneakers.
The bowling alley parking lot.
Lila’s eighth birthday.
I was a teenager again. Black hoodie. Jeans. Sneakers.
Grandma had asked me to get Mom and Zach so we could sing “Happy Birthday” and cut the cake. I could still hear the noise from inside. Laughter and loud music.
Outside, everything changed and felt wrong somehow.
Mom and Zach stood next to his car and were arguing.
She wore the yellow silk blouse she’d bought to please Dad, even though he couldn’t have cared less.
The fabric shimmered in the parking lot sun.
Zach wore a pink polo shirt, leather moccasins, and that $200k watch. Smug as always. So freaking arrogant.
Each step toward them tightened something in my chest. Something really bad was going on.
The closer I got, the harder I tried to hear what they were saying.
Was it “If—” Zach said, right before she grabbed him?
Was it “But Amanda—” Mom shot back, just before he shoved her aggressively?
Anger rose. How dare he touch her! My feet kept moving faster.
But just before I got close enough, Mom turned toward me.
The moment she saw me, everything changed. Her hands dropped, and she smiled. Even after this fight with Zach, her smile was the most beautiful thing in the world to me.
Then, like always, things grew foggy. Voices blurred until they felt distant.
And I woke up from my nightmare. The same one that visited me in my dreams almost every night.
Hospital machines beeped in the distance as the room came back into focus. A phone rang nearby as I sat up on the lower bunk in the residents’ room at the Mass State Hospital in Boston.
For medical residents, this place was a special kind of hellhole. The kind that offered old coffee and maybe a dry muffin after sixteen-hour shifts with no lunch breaks. Sometimes, if we got lucky, they stocked the countertops with ramen noodles, cookies, and soda.
But today was not one of those lucky days.
A few brown bananas sat on the counter, alongside the coffee machine that looked like it had given up on life sometime in the eighties.
After stretching the stiffness from my back, I walked over, passing the small table where two other residents sat scrolling on their phones. It looked like boredom, but I knew it wasn’t. It was burnout. Months of six-day weeks. Twelve- to sixteen-hour shifts. Shit pay, less than minimum wage.
One of the two residents was Erin. Blond. Skinny. Came from Boston old money. The kind filled with expectations and pressure. She was an internal medicine resident.
The other was Jamal, late twenties. Emergency medicine. Permanent tired eyes.
This was my first year as an oncology fellow. Mid-twenties was absurdly young for that title. But everything had moved fast after Mom died. Nothing could stop me.
I got my high school diploma at seventeen. No college parties ever. No dating either. Just studies. I’d rather have died than failed.
I looked at the large clock mounted on the wall—nine thirty.
My twelve-hour shift should have ended four hours ago.
Technically. But reality laughed at that.
We were short of physicians. Short of nurses.
It was Thanksgiving week. And, as a resident, you lost all human rights anyway.
Complaining was frowned upon in a culture that felt closer to a Navy SEAL training camp than a hospital.
Be tough, take the pain, or get the hell out.
“Dr. Rothchild is looking for you,” Erin said as I grabbed the coffeepot.
“Dear God,” I said. “Did I forget to line up his Sharpies in order of the color spectrum?”
Both of them laughed.
“I am sure it’s something like that,” Jamal said. “The bastard made me write a full-page apology letter to my badge when I forgot it the other day. Like, to my actual fucking badge. Started it with Dear Badge, I’m sorry—”
“No way,” Erin gasped, eyes widening.
“Yep. I'm not kidding.”
Listening to them, I poured myself a cup of coffee. Paper cup, of course. Real mugs were apparently too much to ask for.
One sip was all it took to make my face twist.
“Damn,” I said, staring down into the cup. “This should be illegal. I’m going to the cafeteria for something close to the dark drink the world calls coffee.”
Erin stood, already grabbing her badge. “I will come with you.”
“Sure. You coming too?” I asked Jamal.
“Nah. I’ll take a nap.” He was already walking toward the old bunk beds.
Out in the hallway, the hospital was in full motion. Nurses hurried past us with clipboards tucked to their chests. Low voices mumbled patient updates and complaints about coverage. Phones rang. Monitors chimed from behind closed doors. It smelled like chlorine and the nasty coffee I’d sipped.
“Is Rothchild forcing you to cover the Thanksgiving shift on Thursday too?” Erin asked as we walked. “Because, you know, I’m still kind of undecided if I’m going to take a shift. So, you know, if you are taking it, I could take it as well and give you some company.”
Of course I knew why she asked.
I called it my father’s curse. Women were drawn to the Alderwyn men like moths to fire.
Nothing good ever came from it. In Erin’s case, it explained why she bought something at the cafeteria every single time I did.
Why she always asked, casually, whether we could meet outside the hospital for a drink. A walk. Anything.
But, unlike my father, I didn’t drift wherever the wind pushed me. I wouldn’t float from woman to woman like a snowflake with no direction. Until I had time to actually be present with someone, I chose to stay alone. Medicine came first. Everything else had to wait.
“I might do the Thanksgiving shift,” I said. “Today is my grandma’s birthday. We all get together on her birthday and are a bit more relaxed about Thanksgiving.”
Erin nodded, excitement flickering in her eyes. “I’ll tell Dr. Rothchild I’ll take the shift as well.”
We were just about to take the stairs down, when Tessa nearly collided with me. The friendly older nurse smiled up at me, like always. She had that warm aura of a grandma.
“Ah, there you are,” she said.
“I know,” I said. “Rothchild is looking for me.”
“I’m sure he is,” she said. “But I’m here for Mrs. Gonzales. She wanted to see you before you head out. Also, there’s some guy waiting for you in the waiting room.”
My brow lifted. “Some guy? Is he a patient?”
She shrugged. “He said it wasn’t anything important. Just that he needed to talk to you.”
“Any name?”
“Didn’t want to say.”
A slow breath slipped out of me. Probably an unhappy patient. Or a family member.
“You go ahead,” I said to Erin. “I’ll check in on Mrs. Gonzales, then deal with the mysterious man.”
Erin’s face fell for just a second before she smoothed it out. A polite smile took its place. “Sure. See you later.”
I returned the smile. “Later.”
Tessa led me toward the ICU floor and took her usual seat at the nurses’ station.