The Doctor’s Truth: Part 4: Chapter 50

I keep it together for Otto.

It seems like we’ll be here at least overnight for observation. When I’m with him, I try to keep it light-hearted and fun. He’s uncomfortable. Kevin—he says—is being a bully.

The only thing worse than seeing your child suffer…is being helpless to do anything about it.

I wish Kevin was real. I wish I could call his mother up and unleash on her. I wish I could banish Kevin from our existence. I wish I could take Otto and run far, far away and leave Kevin stranded here.

But I can’t. Otto is in the hands of the doctors at Lighthouse Medical now.

He’s strapped into a dialysis machine, tubes and wires churning through my boy. Pearl sits in the chair opposite us, her nose in a Nora Roberts novel. I sit in the chair next to Otto and pet his dark hair back. “How’re you feeling, buddy?”

He lifts his arm, and IV lines follow. “Like a cyborg.”

I let out a small laugh, because somehow, through all this, he still has a sense of humor.

There’s a knock on the door, and I glance up to see a doctor I don’t recognize enter the room. She has a warm smile. “How are we doing?”

“Holding up,” I tell her. Otto gives her a thumbs-up.

“That’s what I like to hear.” She steps inside and shakes my hand. “My name is Dr. Esmeralda. I’ll be your attending doctor.”

“Oh—sorry. There must be a mistake. Dr. Donovan is our doctor.”

Her lips thin, but her smile remains intact. “Unfortunately, Dr. Donovan is no longer with Lighthouse Medical. I’m taking over his patients. Including this strong man here!”

“Hold on—what do you mean, he’s no longer working here?”

“Just that. He’s transferred to another hospital in New York.”

“Transferred?” Pearl balks.

“I can assure you, I’ve been through Otto’s paperwork, and we’ll keep him on track—”

I grab my jacket and sling it over my shoulders. I turn to Otto and say, “Hey, how would you feel if Grandma Pearl stayed with you for a bit?”

Otto nods. “Okay.”

I kiss his forehead. “You’re my strongest boy.” Then I turn to my mother and promise, “I’ll be right back.”

I interrogate Jason, but he knows nothing. He does give me the keys to their place, though.

Donovan isn’t home. There are some notes scribbled on a notepad though—the ferry departure times for today.

The wheels of the rental car squeal as I jet it down the road.

I’m beating the speed limit, but I don’t care. The next ferry leaves at 5:15.

It’s 5:04 now.

I swerve around cars going too slow. I lay on the horn. It’s a miracle when I pull up to the parking lot in one piece, the car spitting gravel under its wheels.

The ferry blows its horn. Last call for passengers.

I kill the engine and race out. I’ve left my coat, and the cold nips here, this close to the island’s edge, but I don’t care.

Because I see him. Donovan. Bag slung over his shoulders. Handing his ticket to the ferryman before trudging up the ramp. The wind kicks through his hair, which looks ginger blond in the light.

“Donovan!” I call out before he can board the ferry.

He stops in place and looks at me. The muscles in his jaw go tight.

I’m short of breath, and the cold air makes my lungs feel like I’m breathing through ice. I stop at the bottom of the ramp, and he doubles back to meet me.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asks.

“What are you doing?” I counter. “You’re leaving? Now?”

His eyes narrow. “I was going to call you.”

“When? When you were in New York and I couldn’t do anything about it?” He paces away, jaw set. I throw up my hands. “Jesus Christ, Donovan, just talk to me!”

He steps close, and his voice is low, intense. “I promise, I will explain everything. But I can’t talk about this. Not here.” His eyes flicker side to side, as though he’s looking for someone. Or someone’s looking for him? When they meet mine again, he says: “Right now, you need to trust me.”

“You can’t abandon Otto.” My voice cracks. My vision goes hazy. “He needs you.”

I need you sits on the tip of my tongue, but the words clot.

Donovan glances at his feet. Finally showing some emotion. A hint of shame. “He’s a strong kid. He’ll be alright.”

My jaw clenches. “Truth or dare.”

His eyes darken. “I’m not playing this game with you.”

“Truth or dare.”

He throws up his hands. “Dare!”

“I dare you to tell the truth for once.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Do you love me?” Silence from Donovan. His lips press together tightly, sealing the words in, so I continue. “Is that why you never pick truth? Because you’re afraid to confess it…you love me. You have. Ever since we were kids. I didn’t get it before, but now—”

“Stop.” It’s not angry—his tone sounds defeated. His eyes close briefly, as though he’s in pain. “Please, stop.”

“Why?” I ask. “Because it’s true? If it’s true—if you really love me—stay. Stay for me.”

His eyes open again, and he stares at me. I can’t decipher the darkness behind those browns.

“I don’t love anyone but myself, Kenzi,” he says. “You should know that by now.”

Cue my heart, shattering into a million pieces.

I can’t speak. There are words—words I want to say, balled up in the back of my throat.

But they won’t come out.

The ferryman comes between us and starts to close the gate. “Are you coming aboard, ma’am?”

Otto is in Hannsett Island. Jason is here.

But my heart is on the ferry, clutching his bag.

I shake my head. I step back behind the yellow line and hug my arms to my chest.

“I love you,” I tell him suddenly. The words hurt. Like something has been torn out from inside of me, stitches ripped open.

Donovan’s eyes go wide. He looks like I’ve slapped him. For a minute, he just stands there, staring at me.

“Say something,” I prompt, because this dead air between us is too painful, and he feels so far away already.

“I’m sorry” is the last thing Donovan says before he turns and boards the ferry.

The cold suddenly sinks into my bones, chilling me from the inside out. I can’t move, though—I’m rooted to the ground as I watch the ferry launch off, churning dark water below as it goes. Donovan stands there for a while, watching me. Then he turns and vanishes inside.

He’s gone. And I’m left all alone.