When Dominic heard Chris say Skyla’s bone marrow was very important to him, the question slipped out before he could stop it.
“For you?”
The moment he said it, he wished he could slap himself.
What kind of nonsense was that?
Chris looked strong as an ox. If bone marrow was involved, then it had to be some kind of blood disorder, which meant there was a patient.
And Chris Xander was the last person in the world who looked like a patient.
Chris stared at the cigarette butt in the ashtray, his eyes dark and unreadable. He didn’t answer.
This was what Dominic had always hated most about him. If it was something good, Chris could talk about it. But if it was bad, he wouldn’t say a word. He kept everything bottled up and handled it on his own. Most of the time, before anyone else even noticed something was wrong, he had already taken care of it in silence.
Sometimes Dominic honestly worried Chris was going to make himself sick one day from holding everything in.
The grudge with the Scott family. Skyla’s bone marrow. He had never even imagined any of this before. Who would have thought Chris had been carrying around so many secrets?
Dominic was getting desperate.
“Does it have to be Skyla?” he asked. “There are so many people in this country. The donor registry has to be huge. Are you really telling me there isn’t one suitable match?”
Gavin stood to the side, watching Chris’s expression grow colder by the second, and frowned grimly.
The answer was obvious.
There wasn’t.
Dominic dropped onto the couch and lit a cigarette too. After a few drags, he slowly calmed down.
The truth was, life was full of cruel coincidences. Some people spent years searching and still never found a matching donor before they died.
Finding a compatible match out of millions was already a miracle.
It was just that fate had a sick sense of humor.
Out of all people, it had to be Skyla.
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