Page 2 of Crimson Love

Just my fucking luck that I’d end up with a billionaire family at a point in my life when no amount of money will solve my problems. Cash is not king, but vital organs are. A healthy, working kidney is at the top of my wish list.

I set out to find my sperm donor. On the off chance I was able to do that, I thought I’d have to beg, plead, and borrow to ask them to test. It’s a good thing my new family isn’t a bunch of assholes. I didn’t expect my half-sister to offer that up without a blink of an eye. And I really didn’t expect it to be a perfect match.

But to not even have to ask her to give me a spare kidney?

Yeah, I hit the jackpot.

Not only was she willing to part with one of hers, but she also wants the full-on family experience. She emotionally blackmailed me into moving to the west coast to give family time a try.

Who was I to argue? Hell, I was getting a new lease on life. Giving in to my younger sister’s wish to live in a mountain town was the easiest thing I’ve ever done.

Don’t get me wrong. Harlow is damn cool. But I didn’t mince words when I told her I’d chase a healthy kidney around the world if it meant she’d share one with me.

I didn’t even have to ask let alone beg. She was crazy enough to cry and hug me so long, I didn’t think she’d ever let go.

“Jett, can you hear me?”

It’s Harlow.

I don’t know how I can be this heavy and numb at the same time, but I recognize my sister’s raspy insistent words cutting through the fog.

It’s a different heavy than what’s weighed me down the last few years. That was all-consuming. At the risk of sounding like a chick, I’d go so far to say it was soul crushing.

“Open your eyes.”

Damn, my sister is demanding.

“He’s coming around. Give him a minute.” That’s someone I don’t recognize.

“But he needs to know,” Harlow insists.

“Baby, give him a minute to wake up. He’s got the rest of his life to get used to his new normal.” The English accent goes hand in hand with Harlow. One is never without the other. He’s glued to her like some freak— a love-sick man, which I guess he is.

But new normal?

Damn. That doesn’t sound good.

“I want to be the one to tell him,” Harlow goes on as reality breaks through my drug-induced haze. “He needs to hear it from me.”

Fuck.

That sounds really bad.

If the universe could just open up, swallow me whole, and put me out of my miserable, lonely existence, I’d appreciate it.

“Jett.” Harlow won’t give up. Her pleas turn to begging even though her voice is as weak as I feel. “Please open your eyes.”

I swallow over my dry throat and sputter through a cough, “Yeah.”

“He’s awake,” Harlow announces.

“I told you so,” a woman sing-songs louder than necessary. If it’s bad news, Chipper Sally could at least have the decency to tone it down a notch, but no. She just won’t stop. “It takes some people longer than others. Don’t be surprised if he wakes up emotional. It happens with operational anxiety and disorientation. It can be extreme from tears to hulk syndrome. My job isn’t easy.”

Now this chick is mocking me. That’s fucking great, Chipper Sally. I hope you don’t have any bum organs, and the maintenance team judges you while you’re fighting for your life.

If anything, I need to open my eyes and fire the woman. If I’m not going to make it, it doesn’t matter if I’m an asshole or not.

Who am I kidding? Even if I weren’t sick and dying, I don’t have it in me.