Chapter Three
Lavender
I paced the hospital room like a caged animal, my worn sneakers squeaking against the tile with each turn.
The sound grated on my already frayed nerves, but I couldn’t stop moving.
Eleven years since I’d seen Rhys, and any minute he’d walk through that door.
I checked my phone for the hundredth time.
He’d texted thirty minutes ago saying he was in the parking garage.
My stomach twisted into a painful knot as I glanced at Brynn, pale against the white hospital sheets, her blue-dyed hair a startling contrast that made her look both fierce and fragile at the same time.
The monitors beeped their steady rhythm, each ping both reassuring and terrifying.
She was alive, fighting, but the machines’ constant presence reminded me how precarious her situation remained.
My fingers twisted the hem of my shirt, worrying the already frayed edge.
I’d changed clothes after our phone call, pulling on the cleanest jeans and T-shirt I could find in the small duffel bag I’d packed weeks ago, but I still felt grimy and unkempt next to the pristine hospital surroundings.
I’d been washing my underwear in the stupid sink and hanging them in the bathroom out of sight. But I couldn’t do everything like that.
“Mom, you’re making me dizzy,” Brynn mumbled from the bed, her eyes still closed. “And that squeaking is annoying as shit.”
I stopped immediately. “Sorry, baby. Just nervous.”
“No shit,” she said, opening one eye to look at me. Those eyes, Rhys’ eyes, right down to the way they seemed to X-ray whatever they focused on. “Is he really coming?”
“Yes,” I said, moving to sit on the edge of her bed. “He texted. He’s here in the hospital somewhere.”
She shrugged, trying to look indifferent, but I caught the flicker of anxiety crossing her face. “Whatever. Not like I need him anyway.”
I smoothed back her hair, the blue strands soft under my fingers. “Brynn, he didn’t know about you. Remember that.”
“Because you didn’t tell him.” Yeah, she’d been salty about that too.
“Because he made it clear he wanted me gone,” I corrected gently. We’d had this conversation before. “And by the time I knew for sure about you, he’d already pushed me away. And I knew I could love you enough for both of us.”
She closed her eyes again, her jaw set in that stubborn way that was so painfully familiar. “Still should’ve told him.”
“You’re right. I should have,” I conceded, because what was the point of arguing now? “But he’s here now, and he wants to help.”
“He wants to get rid of his guilt,” she muttered. “Just like you do.”
I sighed, not having the energy to defend Rhys or myself.
Truth was, I didn’t know what he wanted.
The man on the phone had sounded like my Rhys, but with harder edges.
He’d called me “honey” and “baby” like no time had passed, and my traitor heart had leapt at the words despite everything.
But I couldn’t afford to hope for anything beyond his help for Brynn.
The monitor tracking Brynn’s blood pressure and heart rate ticked upward, betraying her anxiety despite her attempted nonchalance. I gently squeezed her hand.
“Just give him a chance, OK? You don’t have to love him or even like him.
I want you to think about something, though.
He left almost the second I hung up with him.
At two in the morning. It’s a four-hour drive from Nashville to Cincinnati.
He came because you needed him here. He’s here to help, and we need that help, baby. ”
She didn’t answer, just turned her face toward the window where the early morning sunlight streamed through the half-closed blinds.
She’d been awakened early for blood work and had yet to go back to sleep.
The silence between us stretched, filled only by the beeping machines and the muffled sounds of the hospital beyond the door.
I heard them before I saw them. Heavy footsteps in the hallway, multiple sets, moving with purpose. My head snapped toward the door, my heart hammering so hard I felt dizzy. Brynn heard it too; her body tensed under the thin blanket.
The phlebotomist had left the door to the room open so we saw him the second he stepped in front of the doorway. Suddenly the room felt incredibly small.
The man, Rhys, standing there looking at us, was taller and broader than I remembered.
Gone was the lean, scholarly-looking man with wire-rimmed glasses and an easy smile.
This man was solid muscle under a black T-shirt, his arms covered in tattoos that disappeared beneath his sleeves.
His hair was shorter, his jaw harder, his eyes still that piercing blue but now surrounded by lines that hadn’t been there before.
He wore a short beard but tattoos peeked through, climbing his face and ears and across his forehead.
His eyes, so like Brynn’s, were surrounded by inky black scleras instead of white.
And the leather cut he wore, emblazoned with the Kiss of Death MC patches, made my breath catch. This wasn’t just a style choice. This was his life now.
Behind him stood two other men, both wearing similar cuts, both looking like they could bench-press a car. One had a shaved head and a full beard. The other had a buzz cut with a shorter beard.
And there, stepping out from behind Knight, was a woman I recognized immediately as Ada. She’d grown up beautifully, her chestnut hair and those distinctive eyes marking her as Knight’s sister. She gave me a small, tearful smile.
“Lavender,” Knight said, and his voice hadn’t changed at all. Deep, with that slight roughness that had always made my skin tingle.
“Rhys.” I swallowed hard. I had to fight to keep my tears at bay. Despite the changes in his appearance, this was the man I’d fallen in love with.
His gaze softened marginally, a silent acknowledgment passing between us.
“They call me Knight now. But you can call me Rhys if you’re more comfortable.
” Then his gaze moved past me to the bed, and I watched something powerful wash over his face.
Wonder, fear, recognition, and determination all warred for dominance.
“Brynn,” he said, her name a reverent whisper on his lips.
I turned to see my daughter’s reaction. She’d pushed herself up to a sitting position, her thin arms supporting her weight, her face a mask of defiance despite the dark circles under her eyes.
She stared at Knight with naked hostility, but I could see the curiosity there too, the hunger for connection she would never admit to.
“So you’re the sperm donor,” she said coldly.
I winced. “Brynn, please.”
Knight didn’t flinch. He stepped forward, moving with a controlled grace that spoke of someone always aware of when someone was on edge. It made sense. The two men behind him remained at the door, facing away from us like sentinels.
“I’m Knight,” he said, stopping a respectful distance from the bed. “And yeah, I’m your father.”
Brynn’s eyes narrowed. “Took you long enough.”
“Brynn,” I started again, but Knight held up a hand.
“It’s OK,” he said to me, then turned back to Brynn. “You’re right. It did. And I’m sorry for that. But I’m here now, and I’m here to help however I can.”
“Knight, we’ll be down in the cafeteria. Text if you need us.”
“Thanks, Jag. Appreciate you and Knuckles coming along.”
The men departed. Knight pulled the door shut and receding heavy footfalls signaled everyone’s departure. Ada hovered near the door as Rhys shifted his stance, reminding me he watched over us. Ada stepped forward then, her eyes soft as she looked at Brynn.
“Hi, Brynn. I’m Ada. Your aunt.” She smiled, and it transformed her face. “I’ve been hoping to meet you for a long time.”
Brynn blinked, momentarily thrown by Ada’s warmth. “You knew about me?”
Ada shook her head. “Not for sure until very recently. But I suspected. Besides, I’ve always wanted a niece.” She glanced at Knight. “Your dad called me as soon as he found out about you.”
Brynn’s mouth twisted. “He’s not my dad. He’s just some guy who happened to knock up my mom.”
The words were meant to wound, and I saw the hit land in the tightening of Knight’s jaw. But he didn’t lash out. Instead, he pulled up a chair and sat, putting himself at Brynn’s eye level rather than towering over her.
“I get that,” he said evenly. “And you’ve got every right to be angry. But whether you like it or not, I am your biological father. And right now, that connection might save your life.”
I watched Brynn’s face, saw the slight shift in her expression, a flash of curiosity beneath her defiance.
She shared more than just Knight’s eyes.
There was something in the set of her jaw, the way she seemed to be processing his words, carefully thinking about her response.
I’d always seen pieces of him in her, but seeing them side by side dumbfounded me.
“The doctors said I need a kidney,” she said finally. “Mom’s not a match.”
Knight nodded. “I know. That’s why I’m here. To get tested. And if I’m a match, to give you one of mine.”
Brynn’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Just like that? You’re willing to have major surgery for someone you just met?”
“You’re not just someone,” Knight replied. “You’re my daughter.”
“I’m nothing to you,” she shot back.
Knight leaned forward slightly. “You’re half me, whether either of us likes it or not.
My blood. My DNA. And if that’s what saves your life, then yeah, I’m willing to have surgery for that.
” I watched the staring contest between them, two immovable forces.
Neither willing to break first. Nothing for it but to let things play out. See what happened.
Ada moved to my side, touching my arm gently. “He hasn’t slept,” she whispered. “Drove straight through, called me on the way. He’s…” She hesitated. “He’s not the same person you knew, Lavender. But some things haven’t changed.”
I looked at her questioningly. “I don’t understand.”