Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 57099 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57099 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
I stared at the screen, reading his words over and over. The Rhys I’d known had been gentle, thoughtful, verbose even. This message felt like it came from someone else entirely. Someone suspicious and defensive. I supposed his life lessons had turned him into someone I couldn’t recognize because I couldn’t possibly understand what he’d gone through.
But it didn’t matter who he’d become. All that mattered was that he’d responded. That he was alive, findable. That there was finally, finally a glimmer of hope for Brynn.
I looked over at my daughter’s sleeping form before going back to my phone. The antiseptic smell suddenly seemed stronger, the fluorescent lights harsher. I pressed my palm against my chest, trying to slow my racing heart. After eleven years, Rhys Leahy was back in my life, for however brief a time. And I had no idea who he’d become.
I took a deep breath that did nothing to calm me and started typing.
Rhys, I need to speak with you urgently. The DNA match you found is our daughter, Brynn. She’s 11 years old and in Cincinnati Children’s Hospital with kidney failure. She needs a transplant, and you’re possibly her only hope for a match. Please call me as soon as you can.
I put in my number before reading over my message again. Would he even believe me? I hadn’t told him I was pregnant before he went to prison. The day he’d broken my heart had been the day I’d found out for certain. Right before I’d come to visit him. After that, I didn’t see the point of trying again. He’d made it clear he didn’t want me in his life anymore. I’d barely been in my twenties and had idolized Rhys. He’d been my hero as much as my mate. Looking back, I knew he only wanted to protect me. I also knew when something really mattered to Rhys, he tended to react badly.
But this wasn’t about me anymore. This was about Brynn. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for Brynn.
I stared at the message. It seemed too desperate, but maybe not trying to hide my fear was better than pretending there was some kind of normal to this situation.
I added another line.
She has your eyes. And your stubborn streak.
My vision blurred as tears filled my eyes. I’d imagined seeing Rhys again after years. Longed to look into his eyes one more time. For him to meet his daughter and get to know the super-intelligent, strong, capable young woman who was part of him. I started typing again, frustration making my fingers press harder than necessary.
I know this is a shock. But Brynn is real, she’s ours, and she’s very sick. Her kidneys are failing because of a really bad kidney infection caused when she got strep. I’m not a match to be a kidney donor for her. Please, Rhys. I’m begging you to call me.
I added my phone number again and then sat staring at the message. Was it enough? Too much? Would he even care?
The Rhys I’d known would have moved mountains to help a child -- any child, let alone his own. But people change. Prison changed people. I had no idea how long he’d actually served, but whatever life he’d built in the eleven years since might have left no room for unexpected daughters with medical emergencies.
I clenched my fist and unclenched it, then did it again. The familiar anxiety ritual did nothing to calm me. I glanced again at Brynn, so small in that hospital bed. My brilliant, fierce daughter who coded video games for fun and read books meant for college students. Who rolled her eyes at my attempts to be cool but still wanted me to braid her hair every morning. Who shouldn’t have to fight for her life at eleven years old.
I hit send before I could second-guess myself again.
The message disappeared, replaced by a “Sent” confirmation. I stared at the screen, willing it to immediately light up with his response. The silence of the room pressed in on me, broken only by the steady beeping of monitors and the soft whoosh of the oxygen machine.
I placed the phone on my lap, screen up, and stared at it. My mouth felt dry, and my heart continued its frantic pace. But maybe that was too much to hope for. A phone call would be enough to start with. Just to know if he might be willing to get tested as a donor.
My phone remained dark and silent. I picked it up and checked that I had service, that the volume was turned up. It was. He just hadn’t responded yet. Or maybe he wouldn’t respond at all.
I leaned forward in my chair, taking Brynn’s small hand in mine. Her skin felt cool and dry. I leaned down to press my lips to the back of her hand as I forced tears back.