The Doctor’s Truth: Part 4: Chapter 58

I can’t walk far, and I’m still shaky on my feet, but I convince Kenzi to wheel me through the skywalk to the pediatric ward.

I put my hands on the wheels, halting us as soon as we get a couple of feet from Otto’s room. “Lock the chair,” I tell her. “I’ll walk it from here.”

She arches an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yeah. I don’t want to freak him out.”

She clicks down the lock on the chair. “I’ll give you two a minute.”

I ease myself up to my feet. The pain makes me wince. The skin around my incision feels taut and tight. I force myself to straighten up as much as I can to walk into Otto’s room.

He’s sitting up in bed. He’s got his rocket ship pj’s on. He looks bright-eyed, though. Alert. Healthy.

His eyes get wide when he sees me. I offer a smile. “Hey. Can I come in?”

“Sure,” he says, then goes quiet again.

I sit down on the far edge of his cot. “How are you feeling?”

“Good. A little sleepy.”

I nod. “Listen…I heard you got a little upset when I left. And I just want to let you know…nothing like that is ever going to happen again.”

His eyebrows knit, and his mouth screws up, as though to say duh—and it’s so bizarre, because sometimes, he really does have Jason’s expressions. “I know. I have your kidney. You’re literally stuck with me.”

I can’t help but laugh at that. He might have Jason’s eyes, but he has his mom’s weird sense of humor. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

I shift and my shirt must ride up, because he points at my side and says, “Can I see it?”

“Oh…yeah.” I roll up the edge of my shirt just enough so he can see the gnarly stitches going down. “What do you think?”

Suddenly, his eyes light up. “Hey! We’re matching again.”

He pulls up his shirt to show the scar.

He’s so excited about it—so excited to have the same scars as I do.

It plucks a string in me. Maybe I’m still hopped up on morphine. Maybe I’ve got the hospital blues. But whatever it is, I feel the prickly sting in the back of my eyes.

“Can I give you a hug?” I ask.

He nods. I pull him against me and wind my arms around him. The top of his head smells like hospital bed and graham crackers.

“I love you, buddy,” I tell him, praying he doesn’t hear the croak in my voice. “You know that, right?”

“Love you, too,” he mumbles and clings to me.