I nod, throat tight. For somestupidfucking reason I say, “Let me see him.”
Doc nods. “Very well.”
He steps to the side, holding his sterile gloved hands slightly in the air as I move closer.
My breath hitches and my eyes instantly water as my gaze lands on him.Oh, Kit. The wound is brutal. The doc has spread the skin apart, presumably to give it a good clean. The cut runs raw, red, and angry. I cover my mouth with my hand, the sight hitting me hard. I’ve never felt more human than I do in this moment… helpless and utterly fucking devastated.
Doc says gently, “As you can see, I’ve had to shave his brow. That will never grow back the same. He’ll always have a gap where the scar runs through.”
I nod, voice barely a whisper. “Come and get me as soon as you’re done.”
I walk backwards to the door and step out, closing it behind me. A single tear slips free before I can stop it.
Armen sees me and instantly mutters, “Shit.”
Ray’s here now, he must have returned while I was inside. He steps forward and pats my shoulder, voice low and steady. “Soren… let’s get a drink, yeah?”
It’s the way Ray talks to me when he knows I need a steady friend rather than a second-in-command. I nod and let him drag me by the arm toward the bar.
I numbly sit in one of the leather chairs, staring at nothing, unblinking, wiping the stupid tear tracks away with the back of my hand. I don’t get emotional. I don’t cry, especially not in front of people.
Others pile into the room and sit around, no one else daring to sit near me.
Ray comes back and hands me a glass, then sits in the chair beside me. “How long does the doc want?”
I whisper, voice coarse, “About an hour.”
Ray nods. “He’s safe now. He’s back home. That’s the most important thing.”
I nod and take a big, burning gulp of the drink, the whiskey scorching down my throat. Then I mutter, “This is all my fault.”
Ray leans forward. “No. You’re not beating yourself up over this. Finn did that to him. Finn,notyou, Soren.”
I put the glass down and lean my elbows on my knees, mumbling, “Hisface, Ray… you should have seen his fucking face.”
Ray nods quietly. “The doc is good. You know that. He’ll do the best job anyone could. Just an hour, yeah? That’s it. Just one more hour.”
???
I’ve been sitting here for what feels like an eternity, the same glass of whiskey barely touched, the ice long melted into a watery film. The room is thick with silence… a heavy, fearful kind of quiet, mixed with respect for the boy I kept locked away; the one I never let anyone truly interact with. God, I’m a selfish, terrible person. And yet they all care, they all saw him, they’ve lived under the same roof for two years. They know who he is, even if they never really got to know him.
The door finally opens slowly. Doctor Brown sticks his head in and gestures with a gloved hand. “Mr. Sinclair… a moment?”
I clear my throat, the sound rough, and nod. I stand and follow him out into the hallway. We walk a few steps away from the door before he speaks, his hands gesturing calmly as he explains.
“I’ve done the best I can,” he says, voice measured and professional. “He’s got thirty stitches in total. Some dissolvable ones deeper down, keeping the tissue together. The non-dissolvable ones on the surface level will need to come out in four days, so they don’t leave additional scarring.”
I nod, listening, my jaw tight.
The doc continues, gesturing toward the room ahead. “I’ve got him on a saline drip with added electrolytes and a nutrient solution to address the malnourishment… he’s severely dehydrated. We’re pushing fluids and vitamins slowly to avoid shocking his system. I’ve also started him on a broad-spectrum antibiotic through the IV because the wound wasn’t cleaned immediately. Infection risk is high with a cut like that, especially one that deep and contaminated. He should rest in bed for at least a few days. He can take the drip stand with him to the toilet, but he needs to let his body recharge. No stress, no excitement. Just sleep and monitoring for now.”
He pauses, giving me a moment to process.
I nod again, the weight of his words settling like lead in my chest. “Thank you, Doc.Really.”
He offers a small, sympathetic smile and opens the door for me. “He might not wake up for a couple of hours.”
I nod once more and step inside. The main overhead light is off. Only the standing lamp in the corner is on, casting a warm, gentle glow across the room. The doc closes the door softly behind me, probably heading to his office or speaking with his nurse somewhere down the hall. It’s just me and Kit now.
