Chapter 47: Dr. Grant: Chapter 47

Peter Simmons. She said her father’s name was Peter Simmons. It can’t be, right? It must be a coincidence.

I’m numb as I follow Amara to her father’s room. Her hand feels foreign in mine. If she is who I think she is, then that changes everything for us. Fear claws at me, warring with the denial I’m so desperately reaching for.

Amara hesitates as we reach the hospital room, her hand trembling as she knocks on the door. There’s no answer, and she looks at me. She’s looking for reassurance, but all I want to do is walk away.

All I can see is those beautiful blue eyes of hers. I thought they were identical to her mother’s, but I can see it now. They’re identical to his. It’s these same eyes that haunted Aria for years, the eyes that had her screaming from night terrors.

I tear my gaze away, telling myself it must all be a coincidence, but I know I’m fooling myself. There’s no such thing as coincidence.

Amara opens the door, and her hand falls out of mine as she walks in. She pauses and looks back at me, her gaze searching. I stare at her, my heart sinking. Could it be?

When Amara told me her father ruined two families, I never once suspected that one of them was mine. I bite down on my lip and shake my head, forcing myself to do what I urged Amara to do just minutes ago. Stay in the present.

I force a smile onto my face and follow her in, scared of what I’ll find. For once, I want to be proven wrong.

“Dad?” Amara says. I’m right behind her, my heart racing as I come face to face with Peter Simmons. He looks at Amara, his eyes identical to hers. It’s indeed her father’s eyes she got. Did Aria know? When Amara and I visited, did she know? Did she recognize the eyes that haunt her?

I take in the man lying in his bed, a nurse seated next to him. Peter Simmons’ wrists are bandaged and his eyes are hollow, but he’s alive. He looks strong. Likely depressed, but physically healthy.

Amara bursts into tears and rushes up to him. “Daddy, what did you do?” she asks, her voice wobbly. My heart twists painfully, but I can’t make myself look at her. I can’t take my eyes off the man that murdered my parents, leaving my sister to find them lying in a pool of their own blood.

It’s him. There’s no doubt in my mind. He looks older, but it’s him. When Aria told me he was released early, serving only fifteen years, I didn’t react the way she did. I was numb, well aware of how the justice system lets victims like my parents down. I didn’t let the anger consume me. Instead, I just focused on building a good life, being a good person.

What for?

“Noah?” Amara says, her voice soft. Peter looks at me, and his eyes widen. I see the horror in them, and it gives me a sense of gratification. I look just like my father, and it brings me a small amount of peace to know he remembers my father’s face. I hope his crimes haunt him at night. I hope he sees my parents every single time he closes his eyes. I take a step closer to him, my gaze falling to his bandaged wrists. Hatred consumes me, and for a single moment I let it get the best of me. For a single moment, I allow myself to forget my oaths and wish he hadn’t been saved.

“Noah?” he repeats after Amara.

My eyes snap to his, and I grit my teeth. “You keep my name out of your mouth,” I warn him.

He swallows hard, and Amara whips around, her eyes wide. “Noah, what’s wrong with you?” she asks, her tone high. She looks confused, and I stare at her, wondering if it’s all a show.

“Did you know?” I ask her. “Did you know your father is a murderer?”

Her lips fall open, the shock in her eyes apparent. “I…”

I take a step closer to her and place my finger underneath her chin, tilting her face up, forcing her to look me in the eye. “I asked you a question, Amara. Did you know?”

She swallows hard, her eyes falling closed as she nods.

I laugh humorlessly and shake my head. I should have known. I should’ve known something was wrong. Nothing good ever happens to me. Certainly nothing as good as Amara. I should’ve known our happiness was tainted. I should’ve expected it.

“Did you lie next to me, knowing your father murdered my parents? Did you stare at the photos in my hallway, knowing it’s your father that killed mine?”

I look at her, her long red hair, the freckles on her nose, and those eyes… those damn eyes. She looks at me in shock and shakes her head in denial. “I… Noah, no. What are you talking about? Smith. Their name was Smith. It can’t be. It isn’t…”

I laugh, the name sounding foreign to me, even though it used to be mine. “My sister chose the name Grant. It isn’t the name she or I were born with. She chose it to escape the past, to keep people from uncovering our past, to keep from being pitied endlessly. She chose it to escape the damage your father did to us.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter Simmons says. “I’ve never had a chance to say sorry to you or to your sister. I’ve thought of her every day since then. Nothing I can say will ever right my wrongs, but if I could go back into the past—”

“You can’t,” I snap. “You can’t change the past. You can’t undo the crimes you committed. You might be a free man now, but you’ll always be a murderer.” I stare at him, hatred overcoming me. “It’s too bad you failed today. You don’t deserve to live. You don’t deserve the blood people have donated, the resources that went into saving you. You should’ve paid for your crimes with your life.” I take a step back and shake my head. “I’ll leave now, before I finish what you started, Hippocratic oath be damned. I’ll spare you today, but don’t fucking appear in front of me ever again.”

I turn to walk away, but I’ve only just made it to the hallway when Amara grabs my hand. I yank my hand away, barely even able to look at her.

“Noah, I didn’t know,” she says, her eyes panicked.

“I don’t believe you,” I tell her. “I see it now. The warnings your grandfather gave me, the guilt in your mother’s eyes. I thought they were being nice, but they were trying to make amends — and what a shit job they did. And you? You’re just as bad. You know what he did, yet here you are.”

“Noah, he’s my father. You told me… you told me to…”

“Amara, when you told me he destroyed two families, I thought he cheated. I didn’t think he was a murder,” I shout, unable to keep my emotions in check. “I didn’t think he was the man that left my sister and me orphans.”

She bursts into tears, her eyes filled with desperation and sorrow. Part of me wants to take her in my arms, but a larger part of me knows things will never be the same between us.

“I didn’t know how to tell you. I’ve never told anyone, Noah. You’re not the only one running from your past. I was embarrassed and scared of what you’d think of me. I’ve wanted to tell you for so long, but I was scared that you’d look at me the way you do right now.”

I shake my head. “As you should’ve been. Stay the fuck away from me and my sister, Amara. Stay away.”

I turn and walk away, leaving her standing there, crying her heart out. The sound of her heart breaking haunts me all the way home.