Louise. That name feels like dropping a pebble into still water. A tiny splash, but the ripples spread fast.
I should have guessed it. Really. Who else would even be willing to pay that much? It's not just a high hospital bill; it's the kind of number that makes you wonder if you're holding the receipt for a car instead of medical care.
The thought plants itself in my head and refuses to leave. I keep turning it over, checking it from different angles, but no matter how I frame it, there's only one conclusion.
I glance sideways at Noah, who's leaning back in the waiting room chair. His left leg is crossed over his right, the heel of his shoe barely touching the floor. His eyes are on me, not judging, just … watching. There's something unreadable in his expression, the way people watch waves, knowing they'll rise and fall but never sure when the next one will break.
I shift my weight on the chair. My hands are restless, fidgeting in my lap.
