The Forbidden Throb Chapter 42

Emma's POV:

I forced myself to take a breath, pushing down the sharp edge of irritation that threatened to surface.

"Mom, it's fine. Just a scrape." I knelt beside them, gently taking Leo's leg to examine it more closely. "See? The bleeding's already stopped. We just need to clean it and put a bandage on."

Victoria's grip on Leo tightened, her eyes darting between his leg and my face. "But what if we don't clean it properly? What if it gets infected? Emma, we read about these things all the time—sepsis, tetanus—"

"Mom, it's not that serious—"

"A mother's instinct, Emma." She cut me off, her voice trembling slightly. "You'll understand someday. We need to go to the hospital. Please."

"I understand." The words came automatically, though they tasted bitter.

*Did you have that same instinct when I needed you?*

The question burned in my throat, unspoken.

"Fine. Let's go."

Victoria finally relaxed slightly, though her hand remained protectively on Leo's back.

---

Mass General rose before us, all glass and steel and intimidating efficiency.

*How ironic,* I thought, staring up at the building.

I'd been spending more time in hospitals lately than I had in my entire life—fainting in my dorm, overnight observation, Grandma's tumor scare, and now this.

And somehow, I'd even managed to marry a doctor.

The universe had a twisted sense of humor.

Daniel's face surfaced in my thoughts naturally. I wondered whether his surgery had gone smoothly. The emergency case that had pulled him back to Boston so abruptly yesterday.

Victoria clutched Leo tighter as we walked through the sliding doors, the familiar antiseptic smell hitting me immediately. She headed straight for the emergency department, but I steered her toward pediatrics instead.

"The ER is for emergencies," I said quietly. "This is just a scrape."

She bristled slightly but followed my lead.

The pediatric waiting area was cheerful—bright colors and cartoon characters painted on the walls, a play area in the corner with scattered toys.

A few other parents sat with their children, most looking far more worried than our situation warranted.

The nurse practitioner was efficient and kind, cleaning the wound with practiced ease while Leo whimpered against Victoria's shoulder.

"You're doing great, sweetie," Victoria cooed, stroking his hair. "So brave. Mommy's so proud of you."

I watched from my position by the door, feeling like a furtive mouse hiding in the shadows, spying on someone else's happiness.

Victoria was completely absorbed in Leo.

I remembered being seven years old, falling off my bike and scraping both palms raw. I'd walked home alone, bandaged my own hands with paper towels, and said nothing when Victoria came home hours later, too tired to notice.

"All done," the nurse announced. "Keep it clean, change the bandage daily, and he'll be good as new."

"Thank you so much." Victoria's relief was palpable. "Emma, can you go fill out the papers? Leo can't be without me right now."

I nodded, turning away before the tightness in my chest could show on my face.

Truth was, I didn't want to stay and watch their tender moment anyway—the gentle cooing, the reassuring touches, the kind of maternal devotion I'd only ever witnessed from the outside.

The hallway felt cooler, more breathable.

I made my way to the nurses' station, submitted the paperwork, and collected the antibiotic ointment they'd prescribed. The whole process was mechanical.

I was heading back toward the examination room when I saw him.

Daniel.

He stood near the nurses' station, surrounded by a small group of people—an older couple and a young woman holding a little girl.

The woman had tears streaming down her face, but she was smiling.

"Dr. Prescott," she was saying, clutching his hand. "We can't thank you enough. When they said Maya needed surgery, we thought... we thought we might lose her."

"She's a fighter," Daniel said, his voice warm but professional. "She's going to be just fine."

"You saved her life. You—"

"I did my job." He extracted his hand gently, kindly. "Maya did the hard part. She's the real hero here."

The family continued thanking him, their gratitude pouring out in an unstoppable stream. Daniel handled it with grace, accepting their thanks without claiming more credit than he deserved, redirecting their praise to the surgical team, to the nurses, to anyone but himself.

Then, as if sensing my gaze, he looked up, and his eyes found me across the hallway.

For a moment, neither of us moved.

He said something to the family, gestured apologetically, and began walking toward me.

He crossed the distance between us in a few long strides, and suddenly he was there, close enough that I could smell that familiar scent—mint and citrus and something uniquely him.

"Emma." His voice was low, concerned. "What are you doing here? Are you hurt?"

I shook my head quickly, clutching the prescription bag. "No, I'm fine."

* I just didn't expect to see him again so soon. *

His eyes searched my face, as if checking for himself that I was indeed unharmed. "Then why—"

"My brother," I explained, the word feeling strange on my tongue. *Half-brother*, technically, but that distinction seemed petty now. "He fell and scraped his leg. Mom wanted to bring him in to get it checked."

Understanding flickered across Daniel's features.

Before we could say more, Victoria's voice sounded behind me.

"Emma? Oh—Dr. Prescott!"

I turned to find Victoria approaching, Leo still cradled against her hip.

Her eyes widened as they landed on Daniel, then darted between us with obvious surprise.