Her Silent Revenge novel Chapter 120

I don't want to think about it.

Not everyone gets so lucky. The doctor made that clear.

I shudder at the thought of what could've been. The way he said it so matter-of-factly with only a flicker of worry behind his round spectacles.

So professional, as if kids dying from weird plants is an everyday occurrence. As if my Arlo becoming one more statistic would just be a bad day.

He didn't mean anything by it, though. I know that.

Too much tragedy hardens anyone involved with medicine and human health.

He also can't answer the most damning question of all—how?

"Arlo," I whisper, stroking his hair, but he doesn't hear me. I press my lips to his forehead, hoping that somewhere deep in his dreams, he knows his mom loves him.

"Hey," Patton says, pulling up the seat next to me. "How is he today?" I close my eyes until my voice steadies so I can answer him.

We've sent a few texts since he left to go on his wild goose chase, but I don't know if I can forgive him for walking away from me so easily.

It's our son. Our son and Patton left me at the hospital alone. Even if he had the best intentions, it's hard to forgive and forget.

"Salem." Patton's voice is so rough, reaching to take my hands in his. "I know you don't get why I had to go, but—"

"It's foxglove. The poison," I say, cutting him off. Apologies can wait.

Maybe by then I'll be in a mood to listen.

Right now, all I want to do is scream at him, but they'll haul me out of this hospital if I do that. And I can't leave Arlo. I can't.

Patton's forehead lines with worry, mirroring his frown. "What do you mean? What else did they tell you?"

"He… he had a near-lethal dose. And no, he didn't eat a foxglove. I'd have noticed that. It's also not the sort of thing kids his age just pick up and pop in their mouths. He's stable now, but…" I can't finish.

"Shit." His gaze hardens and he glances at Arlo, his frown deepening as he studies our shattered boy, cradled in a pit of off-white bedsheets with tubes running in him.

It's my child lying there. My boy who almost died.

The shock won't stop gripping my throat.

I should be stronger, more functional. But it's a stumbling block, tripping me up every time I try to send my thoughts in a new direction, away from the nightmare fact that Arlo was flipping poisoned and he almost died.

"Will you trust me? I'm trying to help," he whispers, his blue eyes fixed on my face. The same cutting midnight-blue eyes Arlo inherited. "And you need to be well for him."

If I speak again, I'm definitely going to cry, so I just nod and let him guide me up to my feet.

One hand remains around my waist, steadying me like he knows I might keel over if he stops holding me up.

Warmth blooms under his touch despite my resistance.

He's too good at making me feel less alone. Ugh, I need to get my feelings in order.

I'm still annoyed at him for leaving me. And I'm doubly annoyed at him for taking me away from Arlo, even though common sense tells me I should at least eat with my stomach growling like a wolf.

One tiny break can't hurt, can it?

I can feel my heart ripping as we walk away from Arlo. Delly meets us down the hallway, her usually bright smile dim and twisted.

"Oh, my darling!" She hugs me quickly, holding me tighter than her small frame should. "I'm so sorry. I have no earthly idea what happened to that poor little boy."

"It's okay. I don't blame you at all," I say.