Page 125 of Bleed with Me

A smile tugged at Mom’s lips.

“Of course, she does.” She set the glass aside. “You’re amazing with kids.”

My shoulders loosened slightly.

“Then what’s the problem?” I asked, my hand clutching the armrest.

“The problem?” Mom tilted her head. “Sweetheart, I think you should apply for guardianship.”

“What?” I blinked. “I thought…”

“You heard me.” She smiled warmly while I simply stared at her.

“You agree?” I mumbled, unsure whether my brain was working. I had already prepared for an argument.

“Of course I agree.” She looked genuinely offended. “The child adores you. You adore her. You’re stable, responsible, and stubborn enough to fight the entire system if necessary.”

A flicker of triumph warmed my chest.

“But,” she added, casting me a pointed look.

Theeeere it was.

“My concern isn’t whether you should do it.” Her expression softened. “It’s why you’re trying to do it so fast.”

“She’s already been through enough,” I ground out, the warm, victorious feeling vanishing. “I won’t let anyone hurt her again.”

“I understand, sweetheart,” Mom said, her gentle voice calming me exactly as it did when I was a little boy and had terrible nightmares. Still, my jaw clenched. I didn’t think she understood at all, but then she reached across the desk and squeezed my hand.

“Dorian, look at me.” Reluctantly, I did. “I think that little girl would be lucky to have you.” The knot in my chest loosened a tiny bit. “But you’re talking about forever after a few weeks.”

I looked away, my mind instantly jumping to Nina. If Mom thought a few weeks was fast, my marriage would probably give her a stroke.

“You get attached too quickly when you’re scared,” she continued, forcing my attention back to her.

“I’m not scared,” I said through gritted teeth, and a sad smile crossed her face.

“Sweetheart.” She squeezed my hand again. “You can’t save everyone.”

The words landed like a punch. Abruptly, I pulled my hand free and walked to the window.

“This isn’t about that.”

“No?” She raised a doubtful brow. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Mom,” I grumbled, staring outside at the cloudy sky that reflected my mood perfectly. Behind me, I heard her sigh.

“I really hope so.”

My shift was as calm as a trauma surgeon’s shift could be. The scheduled surgeries went smoothly, keeping me from thinking about Nina and Aryna, and nothing unexpected happened. The emergency department remained unusually quiet. The only patient of note was a drunk guy sobering up after being found asleep behind a gas station with a twisted ankle and a scrape on his head.

I signed charts, filled out paperwork, and reviewed scans for tomorrow’s surgeries, desperately trying to distract myself from the conversation in my brother’s office. Meanwhile, Melody marched up and down the hallways, repeatedly checking her watch as if she expected a tornado to hit Manhattan at any moment.

By noon, the most exciting thing that happened was Mrs. Jenkins throwing a pudding cup at a resident, closely followed by a teenager who swallowed a battery.

Under normal circumstances, I would’ve called it a good day. Today, it was torture until the head nurse handed me a chart.

“Room 6, kitchen accident,” she reported, and I smiled.