Page 111 of Risky Passion

“Perfect.” Yasmin tossed a dishcloth into the sink. “Let me grab you a towel. Follow me.”

As I trailed after Yasmin, Whisper slipped in behind us.

“Where is everyone else?” I asked.

“They practically sprinted to those boxes,” Whisper joked.

“Can’t blame them,” I said, rubbing at the back of my neck. “I can’t wait to see what was so important in them for that bitch to want to burn the orphanage down.”

“I’m sure some of it won’t be easy to read.” Whisper’s tone sobered. “Those boxes weren’t part of the official records, so I’m sure there are some truly sad stories in them.”

I nodded as the weight of that scenario sank in. My experience as an orphan had been very different to what went on in that place. Mine was full of love, safety, and kindness from the people who took me in after my parents died. I was one of the lucky ones, and it’s a pity that all orphans didn’t have a story like mine.

Yasmin stopped in front of a closed door with her hand resting lightly on the knob. She turned to me with a soft smile. “Come and meet my brother.”

She pushed the door open and swept inside like she was heading onto a dance floor.

“Jayden, we’ve got visitors!” she chirped. “Whisper’s here, and our Border Force pilot friend, Tory.”

She gestured to us like we’d all been friends for years and were just stopping by for a chat.

At the center of the room rested a hospital bed. Jayden lay face-up, arms at his sides, his chest rising and falling in steady, mechanical breaths. He looked peaceful. His thick, dark hair was neatly combed, and his features were relaxed. Tubes were attached to him, monitors surrounded his bed, and the quiet hum of medical equipment filled the space.

Yasmin swept open the blue curtains to let in more sunlight.

“This is my little brother,” she said, turning back toward us with a spark of pride in her eyes. “He’s been stuck in this silly coma since lastyear. A car accident. It’s a long story. But he’s alive, and that’s what matters.”

She leaned down and kissed his forehead. “He’s just taking his sweet time, aren’t you, buddy?”

I glanced at Whisper, who gave me a small smile, giving me the impression she’d met Jayden like this before.

The large windows let in soft, golden sunlight, bathing the space in a gentle glow. Outside, the branches of a lush tree drooped under the weight of dozens of bright yellow lemons.

Yasmin adjusted the sheet covering Jayden, smoothing the fabric like she’d done it a million times before.

“He’s stubborn,” she continued, teasing him. “He’ll wake up when he’s good and ready. Isn’t that right, lazybones?”

She gave his hand a squeeze, and her grin faltered before her smile returned.

In the corner stood a small forest of monitors, IV stands, and equipment I couldn’t begin to name. But Yasmin had made the room more than a functional space. Potted plants lined the windowsill, their leaves glossy and green. The walls were covered in hundreds of photos: pictures of Yasmin and Jayden, of a couple I assumed were their parents, and plenty of Yasmin with Cobra. In every single photo, they were smiling and laughing, full of life.

I swallowed hard, unsure of what to say. “I’m so sorry. It must be so hard to see him like this.”

Yasmin waved me off with a bright smile. “Oh, don’t worry about it. It’s better than being dead, right, buddy?” She tapped Jayden’s hand lightly before straightening up. “He’s just got some healing to do. That’s all. Jayden always had to do things his way.”

It was impossible not to be floored by her optimism. The way she spoke to him, so bubbly and casual, like he could hear every word.

Maybe he could.

“Anyway,” Yasmin said, giving his hand one last pat. “I’ll come back in a sec and give you your massage. Don’t go anywhere, okay?”

She grinned, then turned to us. “Come on, I’ll show you the restrooms. Back in five, buddy.”

We stepped out into the hallway, and she closed thedoor again.

She led the way as she spoke over her shoulder. “We’ve got a whole team of medical experts and nurses who come by each week, and Cole has set up enough monitors and alarms that if Jayden does come out of his coma—no,whenhe comes out of his coma—this old schoolhouse will light up like a Christmas tree.” She chuckled. “I do his daily muscle therapy myself. And I talk his ear off with all my bad jokes. By the time he wakes up, he’ll probably be sick of hearing my voice.”

“You’re amazing, Yasmin,” I said, meaning every word.

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