NOAH
The heavy door of the recovery room clicked shut, a final, definitive sound that left me standing alone in the sterile white corridor.
My brother had a way of closing doors that felt less like an action and more like a personal verdict.
The conversation was over because Nick had decided it was over, regardless of the fact that I was still standing there with a dozen unanswered questions burning in my throat.
"Okay," I muttered to the empty hallway, rubbing the back of my neck. "That's fine. That's completely fine."
Except it wasn't. Nothing about the last twenty minutes had been remotely fine.
I leaned against the cool wall, trying to make the pieces fit together, but the math refused to work.
First, there was Nick, lying in a hospital bed with a face that looked like it had been run through a meat grinder, stubbornly refusing to explain a single bruise.
