“I know her,” she whispers, looking back to the closed doors that hide the dead body. “Likeknowher.”
“Who is she?”
Sloane’s eyes widen. “She’s Roman’s number one.”
My shoulders drop, defeated.
Roman’s number one. The woman who only he could touch and he made sure everyone knew it. You would think that’d be a place of honor, offer protection, but it just made you an easier target. Bruno used his women violently, forcing them to do what he wanted, and when he grew bored, he got rid of them.
Crossing my arms, I sigh. “What’s her name?”
“Her real name? No clue.” She snorts. “Roman just called her Jaconda.”
Pushing my glasses up my nose, I nod. “Great, thank you for telling me. At least we can give her a name. Why are you here?”
“Lunch date.” She gestures to the doors, their sleek silver a perfect mirror. I avoid looking at them. Today isn’t a good day for my mental health, not after all the shit at home with Maeve and poor sleep. If I see something I don’t like—which is plausible—I’ll have a panic attack. “Upstairs said today was a short day. Just rounds and then you’re free.”
“Rounds and then I’m in the ER, Sloaney.” I pinch my brow, trying not to show my disappointment. Sloane’s living the life she always wanted—full of power and freedom. She thinks everyone is on her schedule, and should be able to drop their responsibilities to do what she wants. She’s always been that way. “I still have things to do.”
“Alright then a quick break.” She pushes the button beside us. “There’s a café in the main lobby. We’ll get some coffee.”
“You’re not supposed to have caffeine,” I remind her, looking at her stomach.
Twin boys, she just got the news last week.
Sloane’s having two children whereas I’ll never have one.
Hand to my stomach, I fight the sorrow. At what Sloane is getting that I never will. Never feel the flutter of kicks in my stomach or the movement of a baby twisting around. The joy of naming a child or the pain of delivery.
My hand drops and I swallow loudly. Having my own child would have been a gift, but if I’ve learned anything in this life, it’s that I’m selfish. I prayed to whatever God would listen for more time—to live. And I sacrificed my ability to conceive to do it.
If I had to do it again, I would.
But if anyone deserves to be a mother, it’s Sloane.
“Ease up, Col. I already have a doctor.”
“You go.” I take a step back, ignoring her cattiness and wrap my arms around my middle. “I have to finish up. I’ll meet you up there.”
“You better. I haven’t seen you in weeks. I need to spend time with my favorite sister.”
I shake my head, guilt consuming me. “Don’t say things like that. I promise, I’ll be there. Just wait.”
Thankfully,Dillon showed us all what we needed and let us go to break early. When I enter the café, it’s easy to find Sloane.
People openly gawk at her. She’s a flame, drawing everyone to her. It’s been like this our entire lives—our mother, included.
Eloise O’Brien was a miserable woman who hated being a parent. She was the party-goer, the high society Irish woman who people flocked to—and she hated being chained to her children. I was seven when she died of ovarian cancer, but I remember how she fought with Maeve, and how she couldn’t bother to take care of Briar. She doted on Sloane because of the red hair, but me? All I got was her disdain.
She constantly reminded me I wasn’t the pretty daughter.“It’s a good thing you’re smart,”she used to say, winking over a glass of wine at dinner.“Otherwise, there would be no hope for you, Collins.”
I envy Sloane. For her beauty, her confidence and for our mother’s love.
She never gets physically ill when she sees her reflection in the mirror, and never has nightmares about what she endured. Or at the lack of guilt for doing such things.
Crossing the room, I take the vacant seat as she hands me green tea. I don’t drink coffee, as the stale smell reminds me too much of when I was sick.
It’s why the ER is so easy for me. I’m constantly moving, thinking, planning. I don’t have time to sit and drink coffee. I can put all my experience into helping me. Once my rotation is over, it’s where I planned to stay.
