Page 10 of A More Than Mayhem Christmas

“There’s, uh… there’s one more room we need to visit.”

“Okay.” She nods, looking around. “Where?”

I point over her shoulder to the door with a single window showcasing nothing but darkness. Amanda spins on her heels, and within two steps, she has her palm on the door, ready to push. I stop her with a gentle hand on her forearm and wait for her to face me. “I, uh…” I ignore the widening of her eyes, the confusion bleeding in her stare. Then I rub the back of my neck, no longer able to hide my nerves.

“Logan?”

“Do you mind if I do this one alone?”

It takes a moment for her to respond. For her mind to catch up to my words. “Yeah, of course.” She opens the bag of gifts and asks, “Do you know their age and gender?”

I shake my head. “I got this one.”

Amanda nods, still uncertain, but she doesn’t ask any more questions. She simply smiles, stepping to the side to make room for me. “I’ll wait right out here if you need… anything.”

What she means is if I needher, and I likely will, and she likely knows that already. I press my lips to her forehead, whisper my love for her before pushing open the door.

The room is dark, bar the few lights they keep on twenty-four-seven. Slowly, quietly, I make my way toward him. The boy is nothing but skin and bones, barely taking up space in the bed. His eyes hardly open when I approach—not by choice, but because the bruises and swelling have forced them that way. I don’t know if he can see me, but I know he can hear me. “Hey, Micah.”

His lips move, just a tad. “I thought you were a doctor.”

“Not yet.” I refuse to call myself a doctor until I complete my residency.

“Soon though?”

“Yeah… soon.”

I can’t look at him too long, not in the state that he’s in. His chart says he’s five, but he’s so malnourished, he could pass for years younger.

He’s been here for three days now, and his appearance hasn’t changed much. Cuts. Bruises. Fuckingburns.

I was helping Dad transport and admit one of his patients when they wheeled him in through the ER. He was surrounded by so many nurses and doctors andcops, and from what I’ve learned so far, Micah’s dad is a real piece of shit. For… reasons, let’s just say that motherfucker’s lucky he’s sitting in jail right now.

The list of injuries on Micah’s chart is enough to make a grown man cry. Which I’ve done. Many times. Usually once his grip on my hand loosens when the drugs in his system have eased his pain long enough to allow him some sleep.

My dad knows I’ve been visiting with him often. I haven’t told Amanda about him. I’ve tried. I just… I struggle to get the words out.

I clear the emotion from my throat before saying, “I came by earlier to give you a present, but you were asleep.”

“A present?” Micah attempts to sit up, but he winces in pain, and I settle my hand on his shoulder, stopping him from moving.

“Don’t move too much,” I tell him. At the same time, he mumbles, “I’ve never gotten a present before.”

I ignore the weight of his words. For now. But I’m sure they’ll replay in my head when I try to fall asleep tonight, just like all our interactions before. “Well,” I say, forcing a tiny amount of cheer into my tone. I reach behind the side table, where I hid the bag earlier. Sure, I could’ve left it for him or had a nurse give it to him. But this is personal, and I wanted to be the one to give it to him. “I’m honored to be the first person to give you one.” I revealthe ratty old hat and overused baseball glove from the paper bag and show it to him. “It’s not much, but they were mine when I was your age. I figure, once you’re better and you’re out of here, maybe we could throw the ball around or something.”

For a long time, he remains still, and maybe… maybe I overstepped. Maybe I’m doing the one thing my dad told me not to do—get too close to a patient. But then again, if he followed his own rule,Iwouldn’t be here.

After a long moment of silence, Micah finally says, “I don’t think my dad would let me do that.”

It’s not the first time he’s mentioned his dad, and it sure as hell won’t be the last time Ithinkabout him. But for now, it’s just us, in this room, where no one and nothing can hurt him. Besides, if the justice system is more thanjust a system, Micah will never have to worry about his dad ever again. “Maybe,” I say, not wanting to reveal my true disdain for the fucking monster who did this to him. “But we can try, right?”

“I’d like that,” he says. “When I’m better.”

“Yeah…”

He lifts his head, just a tad. “The hat.”

I grab the plain navy-blue hat and gently place it on his head, then crack the tiniest smile when he does. “It suits you.”

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