Page 5 of Until Forever

I continue to bite my tongue. Deep down, I know he means it. The Maysons have always treated me like I belonged since the moment I became friends with Bax. But that was a long time ago, and I’m no longer the fourteen-year-old kid who used to raid their fridge.

“Like I said, I’m good.”

Returning my helmet to my head, I release the stand, rev my engine, and peel away before he can get out another word. The last thing I need is someone lecturing me. Leaving without Latoya is hard enough. Now I want to be as far away as possible.

CHAPTER ONE

LATOYA

I’m late.

Again.

“Latoya,” Fiona, the head nurse, singsongs my name. Actually, it’s more like a growl—the roar of a pissed supervisor.

From her tone alone, I can sense how frustrated she is. It’s not unwarranted; with a busy seven-year-old to raise alone, I’ve been running behind a lot lately. Even still, I prepare myself to recite the same thing I say every time.

I avoid her gaze by pinning my ID badge to the waistband of my scrubs. “I know, I know, and I’m sorry. JJ wasn’t cooperating this morning, and I had a flat tire. But I’m here, and it won’t happen again.” I roll my shoulders to settle my nerves.

Fiona doesn’t respond other than to furrow her brows at me. She fumbles around with something on the counter in front of her and sucks in a breath. Her posture is rigid, annoyance seeping from her loud and clear.

Fiona clears her throat and hands me a patient’s chart. When I take it from her, I glance in my friend’s direction but choose to avoid the questioning look in her eyes. I’ve been friends with Harmony for a year now, and in that time, she’s grown to be the closest thing I have to a sister.

Although we’ve recently connected, we’ve known each other a lot longer. Ages ago, we attended the same high school. When she joined the hospital staff, she didn’t recognize me at first. It makes sense. She is a year older than me, and we never hung out together. But I remember her and her twin sister, Willow.

“There’s a new patient in room three-twelve. He was admitted last night for end-stage liver failure—cirrhosis. He’s jaundiced, has some abdominal pain, and excessive vomiting,” Fiona fills me in.

As she gives me the rundown, I flip open the binder and scan the pages. Fiona’s voice fades into the background, and I freeze for a moment. Staring back at me, in bold, black typography is a name I haven’t seen or heard in a long time.

Nicolas Vanek.

“Latoya.”

She calls my name, but I can’t answer her.

“Toya,” she says louder. “Do you hear me?”

I blink and glance up at her. “Yeah, sorry. Liver failure, got it. Do we have him on oxygen?”

“Yes. He’s lucid but does struggle to breathe. He’s likely going to be here for a while. Ross saw him a few times in the past, ordered him to give up the bottle, but—”

“He didn’t quit drinking.”

“No, and it’s unfortunate because his condition would have possibly been reversible after the first or even second visit. Now it’s probably too late.”

I drop my head, focusing on his chart again. She’s right. If he’d followed the treatment plan, he wouldn’t be in such a grave state. His levels are elevated, and he has a buildup of toxins in his blood.

“Dr. Ross scheduled him for an abdominal CT when he came into the ER last night, and may need a liver transplant,” Fiona continues.

“What’s the deal with his other symptoms? It looks like he has some bruising along his ribs, a busted lip, and a laceration above his eye.”

She sighs and takes a seat. “He says that he fell down a flight of stairs.”

She doesn’t need to say what she really thinks because it’s my thoughts as well. The entire town knows his story—an alcoholic with a bad gambling habit. If I had to guess, he lost a bet and couldn’t pay up. It’s his MO and has been since the day I met his son.

Fiona hands charts off to other nurses then gives me a pinched smile. I return the gesture, rolling my shoulders back to wean off the look of disappointment in her eyes. She’s going to want to talk about this later, I can tell, and the truth is, I don’t blame her. Life has been a real pain lately. I guess at some point in time, I pissed off the Devil because it’s been one thing after another.

First, it was finding out I was pregnant at eighteen and that my boyfriend had left me, all in the same day. So, I raised my son alone, with support from parents who took a while to come around to the idea of being grandparents at forty-eight. Our worlds instantly turned upside down, forcing me to figure out a new way to make it. It’s been a challenge to adjust and juggle our schedules. But lately, things have shifted, and my once-happy seven-year-old is acting out at home and in school. And every day he has more questions as to why he’s the only one of his friends without a dad.

---