Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Yet business churned on as normal. A thousand phone calls, more contracts to review until his eyes crossed, Brand quietly explaining everything he didn’t understand and reminding him of legalities before he made catastrophic decisions.
And now and then brushing his gloved fingertips to the back of Ash’s neck in passing, making him jump, his stomach coiling tight with heat and longing.
Yet it was neither heat nor longing making his stomach seasick and cold, as he and Brand stepped inside the welcoming, warmly painted lobby of Dr. Singh’s private practice. She was just behind the desk with the receptionist nurse, passing charts between them and talking animatedly, but as they entered she glanced up and smiled warmly, her coppery, delicate features warming with a smile.
“Hi, Ash.” She greeted him with the familiarity of the woman who used to bandage up his skinned knees and trick him with silly noises before giving him a shot; her graying bob of black hair bounced around her face as she ducked quickly from around the corner and approached with her hands outstretched. “It’s good to see you.”
“Hi, Dr. Singh.” He took her hands and squeezed them tightly, then nodded toward Brand. “This is Brand Forsythe. My valet.”
Brand dipped in one of those formal bows. “Madame.”
“You would have to be British,” Dr. Singh said enigmatically, eyeing Brand wryly, before turning her attention back to Ash. “Darling. I have a feeling I know why you’re here.”
“…you could’ve told me before he was in a hospice center.”
“Patient confidentiality is a very serious matter, Ash.” She sighed, clucking her tongue regretfully. “Even now. I know he’s your father, but with him conscious and power of attorney revoked by the will…” She shook her head. “Whatever you want to know, I can’t break privilege without his permission.”
“You know me a little too well.” He smiled regretfully. “But you can tell me patient information about myself, right?”
“Of course.”
“Then if you tested my bone marrow, you could tell me if it was a match for his?”
Her eyes widened. “…Ash.” She darted a glance toward Brand, as if asking if he’d put Ash up to this, then back to Ash. “Yes. Yes, I could do that, but…” She pressed her hands together. “It’s only a fifty percent chance you’ll match. And we’re still trying to find someone through the match registry. Testing you…you know it’s extremely painful, don’t you? Even with local anesthetic, you’ll still feel it.”
“I know.” He smiled faintly, bitterly. “It’s Friday, right? So I’ll take the weekend to rest.”
Dr. Singh blinked. “You want to do it today?”
“No time like the present, right?”
“Are you sure you’re ready?”
Ash glanced back at Brand. Brand watched him with that same quiet, nonjudgmental regard…but that gaze seemed to promise he would hold Ash up, if ever he should begin to fall.
That was all he needed.
“I’m sure,” Ash said. “Let’s do this.”
HE WAS LESS SURE WHEN he was lying on an examining room table in a hospital gown, face-down with his entire left hip and part of his back numb.
At least face-down he couldn’t see Dr. Singh standing at his flank, or the massive needle he knew was in her hand.
He could only see Brand, standing at the side of the table, hovering close—and reaching for his hand, letting him clutch on tight, stilling the shaking of Ash’s fingers.
“Brace yourself, Ash,” Dr. Singh murmured. “You won’t feel it at first—but then you will.”
Ash took a shaky breath and squeezed his eyes shut. “Don’t let go,” he whispered, his heart pounding wildly.
“I won’t, young Master Ashton.” And then there was a twin to his own heartbeat, as Brand lifted their clasped hands and pressed them over his chest, letting Ash feel that slow and steady thump through layers of fabric, strong and reassuring. “I’m right here. Hold on to me.”
So Ash held on. First there was fear. Then there was pain. A sharp sting, then deeper, so deep it felt like it cut him right through.
But always there was Brand, holding his hand so tight even when Ash bit his lip on a scream, digging in so hard he tasted blood.
IT WAS OVER IN LESS TIME than Ash expected, even if he’d counted every second of pain in infinities. Even with the anesthetic it hurt to stand up, hurt to walk.
Ash felt no shame in letting Brand pick him up and carry him from the doctor’s office, hiding against him from the lingering ache. Hiding from the fear that when the results came through—by Monday, Dr. Singh promised—it would have been for nothing.
And there was nothing he could do to save his father after all, no matter how hard he tried.
CHAPTER TEN
WORKING WEEKENDS WERE A BLESSING, Brand thought. Without them, he thought young Master Ashton might have paced a hole right through the floor of the estate.
Instead he flung himself around the office all weekend; even though most of Harrington Steel’s business partners were closed for the weekend, Ashton took the time to catch up on paperwork, grill Brand on the intricacies of contract law, continuously Google everything he could find on New York labor unions. Brand rather admired his dedication.