Page 110 of The Devils They Are

"I don't know if I believe that," I mutter sadly. "But thanks."

Tai reaches out, resting his hand on my knee as he links our fingers. "Don't let Olivia get to you. People will try to throw it in your face, but it's just words. Thanks for protecting Soph though."

I squeeze his hand. "I would protect her with my life—just like I would for any of my Cedar Heights people. She's a good kid."

"Don't let her hear you calling her that," he laughs.

Snorting, I can just imagine the verbal beatdown I'd get. But I mean every word. I had a feeling that Soph would grow on me, ever since our first encounter in the locker room. If I'm being honest, she practically forced me to be her friend, but I have no regrets. Soph was the first person to treat me as a human and not a rival, and never once gave me shit for my background. In a world full of judgmental stereotypes, she refused to stay in a box given to her by birthright.

"I won't tell if you don't."

"Deal."

Pulling out my cell, I check the time. "I have to go. There's an appointment I can't miss."

Tai slowly releases my hand, stretching out his legs. "Give me your cell."

"Why?" I ask, though I'm already handing it over.

He grins. "I'm going to give you my number."

"I already have your number."

"My real number. That was my burner phone."

I slap the top of his arm playfully.

"Ow. What was that for?" he groans, punching his details into my contact list.

"For making me listen to a documentary on whales," I shoot back, snatching my cell back when he's finished. "I could have done without the lesson on semen. Or the ass picture."

My suspicion of a pity appointment is confirmed when I'm immediately ushered into Dr. Lavings' room. He offers me a tight smile, swinging his chair to face me.

"How are you going, Bexley?" he asks sincerely.

I feel bad but all I can focus on is anger toward him. I know he's trying to be polite and caring, but this man probably knew about Mom's condition. Of course he did. He had the test results. And realistically, I understand he wouldn't be able to call me and disclose them, but it still stings. Maybe I'm just looking for someone to blame, someone to be angry at.

"I'm wonderful," I mutter sarcastically. Ouch—not cool, Bexley.

Dr. Lavings nods. "I imagine you have questions."

"How?" I ask, and we both know I'm not referring to his previous statement.

He grimaces, letting out a sigh before turning to his computer. Clicking a button, the printer beside it whirls to life, spitting out paperwork. He hands it to me, letting me scan over it for a few seconds before diving in to what I'm sure is a well-practiced speech.

"When Savanna presented with jaundice, I organized for the blood tests to check her liver function. Her markers came back indicating liver failure, so I had her admitted to assess her liver health with imaging and a biopsy. Unfortunately, subsequent testing found she had cirrhosis, likely caused by heavy alcohol consumption. Based on her results, I would say that she had this for some time, which continued to worsen and shut down her liver function."

I stare at him with hollow eyes, understanding the words but struggling to process anything.

"By the time we conducted the biopsy, she was already in end-stage liver failure. The only treatment would have been a liver transplant, but unfortunately, it is incredibly hard to find a match in such a short window."

"Why didn't someone ask me?" I question sharply. "I could have been tested."

Dr. Lavings offers me a tight smile. "Savanna declined that option."

My heart drops. It literally feels like someone is cracking open my chest with bare hands. "She declined having me tested?"

"I'm sorry, Bexley. I know this must be difficult to hear, but I truly believe she was trying to protect you."

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