“Take one.”
Still, this one act of kindness doesn’t mean I’m out of the woods.
“Where is she?” Since my throat is dry, I do as I’m told. “You have to tell me,” I add, then pop the ice chip into my mouth.
“Your mom’s been taken into custody.” His free hand balls into a fist at his side. His attention flicks obsessively between my face and the machines. “She won’t come anywhere near you. Not anytime soon.”
He ends the sentence with a growl. Doesn’t say anything more.
But as dreamy as it sounds, it can’t be real.
I wait for the ice chip to melt, for the cool water to wet my throat.
Preparing for a crushing disappointment, I say, “At some point, they’ll let her out.”
“There’s a protective order in place.” As if Alaric is that protective order personified, he squares his shoulders, standing taller. “She’s not allowed to see you or contact you.”
“She has people.” My body sags deeper into the bed. A cloud of despair descends over me as I realize I was way too optimistic earlier. Though my doctor is huge, easily over six-four, he’s no match for Mom’s clients. “One of them will come for me.”
“No one’s coming anywhere near you.” A vein bulges in his throat. His feet remain planted in place. “Security’s been notified. You’re safe here.”
I almost cry with relief, except… “What happens when I’m back home?”
“You won’t be discharged so fast.” A strand of dark hair falls over his forehead, and he’s quick to push it back.
My lips tremble. Teeth clicking. “Eventually, I will.”
“You won’t be returning to that place.” One sharp shake of his head. “A social worker stopped by while you were out. Because you’re a minor, they’re arranging a foster placement. It’s supposed to be temporary, but…”
He pauses, his gaze drifting inward for a brief second before returning to me.
“But what?”
“With the photos, the charts, and my testimony, there’s more than enough evidence to lock her up for years.”
“Oh.” Fuck me, these new tears. There are so many of them. They’re unstoppable, streaking my cheeks. My temples. The salt stings my swollen eyes. “Oh.”
His teeth grind hard enough that I hear it over my sobs. Staying efficient, he grabs a tissue and carefully pats my soaked cheeks.
“It’s been going on for a while, hasn’t it?” Once done, he crushes the tissue in his palm, his knuckles turning white. “It just never got bad enough to land you in the hospital.”
Emotion clogs my throat. He’s the first person who’s ever asked me that. “How did you know?”
“Your medical files are clear.” Before he finishes the sentence, his pager goes off. “But your scans showed healed fractures. I saw a dental implant too.”
He scowls as he grabs the pager, making my teeth chatter in fear. “D-do you have to go?”
“Soon.” His focus returns to me as he clips the pager back onto his waistband. He taps the tip of his nose, probably indicating the bump on mine. “That was her too, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, and, um…” My chest hitches as I try to silence another sob. “You checked on me?”
You really, really care?
“I always do with domestic violence cases.” His pager goes off again. “Especially with kids and the elderly.”
The pager won’t stop beeping now.
“I’m sorry. I have to go.” And yet he still takes the time to offer me the ice chip cup a second time.