Chapter 17 In which I find out much of my life has been a lie

I blink at Ethan’s pronouncement. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You don’t have any medical records. At least, not that I could find. Not in Dr. Schwab’s office. Not in any hospital in the area.”

I blink again and shake my head, ignoring the way it makes my brain feel like it’s in a slushy machine. “No, that’s not right. I’ve been going to see him since I was eight. I have to have records. They don’t just get rid of those, right?”

Ethan cuddles me closer. “I couldn’t find any electronic files regarding you.”

I shift to face him more fully. “Sadie Marie Pierce? Nothing for that name.”

He gives me a soft smile and smooths a hand down the side of my head. “No, heartbreaker.”

“And it was Dr. Gerald Schwab on Havershine that you looked at?”

He nods. “He’s the only Dr. Schwab in the area, Sadie.”

My brow furrows, and it makes my headache worse, so I force it to relax. “But… I… I saw him twice a month for years. I had treatments and blood transfusions and medications. Twelve years of that and there’s no record?” I’m trying really hard not to panic, trying really fucking hard to be logical about this, because there must be a reason. The file got corrupted or something. That’s got to be it.

“Hey, vixen,” Luca says softly, a purr rumbling from his chest and a soft flow of calming energy hitting me from his side of the bond. “It’s okay. There’s gotta be an explanation.”

Logan’s big hands remain wrapped around my thighs. “It’s not that big of a deal because you can just tell us what you know. We can do the research on what treatment for it would have looked like. Are you ready to share?”

I blink at him, the truth slamming into me so fucking hard it steals the breath from my lungs. Because I have no clue what was wrong with me. I know the treatments. I know about the medications that they pumped into my veins that made them burn and the way I had a fever after. I know about the blood draws and the bags of blood that they replaced it with. I know about countless fucking hours spent feeling sick after, feverish and exhausted, barely able to open my eyes, but I don’t know what was wrong with me.

The panic in my chest grows. How can I not know? How did I just ignore it? How was I so fucking desperate to move on from being sick all the time that I didn’t make them tell me what they had cured me of? Why was I so goddamn apathetic about what was probably the most important thing in my life?

A whine spools out of me that I’m helpless to stop, even with my pack around me, even with Swift’s scent on my skin and Luca’s purr rumbling through me. All of them move closer, eager to soothe me.

“Shh, omega, it’s okay. You’re safe. You’re safe, I promise you,” Luca murmurs. God. They’re all trying their best to make me feel better. Four separate purrs are pouring across the room and Ethan has my hand clutched in his, his mouth pressing kisses into my palm. Swift sits on the coffee table looking almost feral, like he wants to kill whatever is making me scared, but he can’t because I’m the fuck up here and I know Swift would rather die than hurt me.

Maddox stands behind the couch, his big hand strokes down my head until it rests at the back of my neck. Having my prime alpha do that to me helps like nothing else could and my whine dies out to a whimper and then silence.

“Tell us, omega,” his low command sweeps over me. It’s not a bark. I can ignore it if I want. But I don’t think I want to.

“I don’t know,” I whisper my truth.

Logan’s brows jump behind his glasses. “You don’t know what, Sadie?”

I shake my head, another whine building in my throat. “I don’t know what was wrong with me. They never told me. I was eight when I started seeing Dr. Schwab and they told me I wouldn’t understand, that there was no reason for me to worry about it.” My eyes slip closed at the stupidity of it all as I continue on in a harsh whisper. “I kept asking and they never—they never told me and after years I stopped asking. By the time I was twenty and they told me I was better, I really didn’t care. I just wanted to move on to the part of my life where I’m wasn’t sick.”

I open my eyes to find Logan looking at me with a tick in his jaw and anger in his eyes. I whine. He reaches up to touch my face, sliding his fingers over my jaw. “I’m not mad at you, mo chuisle . Never at you.” He forces a smile to his lips. “I just hate not knowing what was wrong with you.”

I nod and whisper, “I hate not knowing now, too.”

“Who would we be able to get answers from?” Maddox asks, fingers tightening slightly on my throat.

“My mother. Dr. Schwab. The nurses. Though I never saw their faces and they never gave me their names.”

I look up to find them all looking at each other, having a conversation that I can’t hear or make out. Ethan shifts a little, drawing my attention to him. “You said Dr. Schwab’s office was on Havershine?”

I nod, feeling an inexplicable sense of dread creep over me. Like I’m on the precipice of discovering something that is going to forever change my life, my mind. I swallow and nod again. “Yes. 1253 Havershine.”

He sighs and runs a hand over his face before fishing his phone out of his back pocket. “I thought maybe he just changed locations in the last five years, moved to a different office. So I didn’t think anything of it, but the doctor’s office I looked up for Dr Schwab was on 46th.” I blink at him, not understanding what he’s saying.

“I-I that’s not right.” Shaking my head, I wince when it makes it ache with a vengeance. “I went for a checkup last year and the office was still on Havershine.”

Ethan turns his phone toward me, showing me a picture of a man in his sixties with a bushy mustache and kind brown eyes. He’s grinning at the camera. There’s something about him that makes me feel… safe, like a beloved grandfather.

“Who’s that?” I ask, looking up at Ethan.

His eyes widen, and he curses roundly before answering my question. “That is Dr. Schwab, sweetheart.”

I shake my head, a little laugh bubbling out of my mouth. “No, it’s not. Dr. Schwab is younger, not by much, and he has blue eyes and no mustache.” I look at Logan to confirm. “That’s not him.”

Ethan’s finger on my chin turns his attention back to him. “Yes, heartbreaker, it is.” He clicks on the screen and then hands me the phone, letting me see the website for Dr. Schwab with this stranger’s picture front and center.

I stare at it for too long, not comprehending what it means, not understanding what’s happening. “But I was sick. I spent years being sick,” I insist. “And he was my doctor. I don’t understand…”

I think I’m on the verge of a breakdown, honestly. My brain is short circuiting and I can’t make myself fucking focus. Instinctively, my eyes find Logan. He’s a doctor, he’ll be able to help me understand, right?

“What does this mean?”

He shakes his head, one hand tightening on my thigh while the other slides up to my cheek. “I don’t know, mo chuisle . But we’ll figure it out.” His light green eyes move over my head, likely meeting Maddox’s dark gaze. “I can run some basic tests, blood work and such to see if anything stands out.” He looks back at me. “What sorts of treatments did you have? That might give us an idea of what they were treating you for.”

I try to focus on the question, building my resolve. As a mature, emotionally stable adult, I can do this. I can figure this out. “A lot of things. It started out with them, testing my blood mostly, and then they did intravenous medications twice a month. And eventually they moved on to blood transfusions.”

Logan’s dark red brows narrow. “Blood transfusions. Those are usually for certain types of cancer-”

He cuts off when I shake my head. “Not cancer. They made sure I understood it wasn’t cancer. Though I guess that could have been a lie, seeing as he was practicing medicine under a stolen identity.”

A low growl sounds from Swift, and he pushes to his feet, striding out of the room. I watch him go, a part of me needing him near, but also fully aware that I’m not really in a position to demand that he stay with me.

The furrow in Logan’s brows deepens. “What about your kidneys?”

Shrugging, I shake my head. “I don’t think so. I haven’t had a transfusion in almost six years and I know I never had a transplant. Never had a surgery.” puffing my cheeks, I blow out a breath. “I’m sorry. I wish I was more help.”

“Don’t fucking apologize, trouble,” Maddox grumbles from above me. “This is not your fault.”

But it kind of is, isn’t it? I should have realized something was wrong, should have asked more questions as I got older.

Swift returns to the room, wearing all black. He tucks something into his pocket and then pushes through his pack to reach me. He braces one hand on the back of the couch, leaning over me, while his other sweeps along my jaw and into my wavy light brown hair, gripping it tight to tilt my head back. “Gonna run an errand, Cherrybomb. I won’t be too long. Promise,” he murmurs against my lips, before he kisses me.

It’s not a quick kiss either, it’s long and lingering, a little filthy. His tongue sweeping into my mouth to flick against mine, then sliding deeper like he’s trying to tongue fuck my throat, or tickle my tonsils.

“Jesus, Swift,” Logan growls out. “Let the girl breathe.”

The blond alpha pulls back with a grunt and presses a tender kiss to my lips. “She doesn’t need to breathe if I’m her air.”

I blink up at him, my brain fuzzy with lust. My perfume is heavy in the air, and I’m slick with arousal between my legs. Swift’s plush pink lips curl into a satisfied smirk, and he kisses me again before pulling back and straightening. “Be back soon, Cherrybomb.”

A breath later and he’s gone, the elevator’s ding signifying his departure.

Logan moves back into the space in front of my knees, hands resting on my thighs. His light green eyes are worried as they linger on the bruise on the side of my face. “How are you feeling, mo chuisle ?”

It takes me a moment to focus on his question. “I’m okay,” I reassure him. He doesn’t look like he believes me, and I can’t blame him for that. In the last hour, I’ve almost been kidnapped, knocked out, and discovered that I might not have actually been sick the entire time I was a child.

It’s weird that I think that is the most fucked up part, isn’t it? But it feels like the Joey King TV show The Act. My mother spent years telling me I was sick, taking me to doctor’s appointments, letting them do god knows what to me, and for what? Did she have Munchausen’s by proxy? Was it to get sympathy for being a single mother to a sick kid? What the hell was she thinking?

“I need to call my mother. I need to know…” I trail off, because they know what I need to know.

“Where’s your phone, vixen?” Luca asks, squeezing my thigh.

“In my bag.” A moment later, Ethan hands me the device and I pull up my mother’s number and hit the call button. It rings through to voicemail. I shouldn’t be surprised. She never picks up when I call, but heaven forbid I should ignore her when she rings me.

I stubbornly try calling again. Voicemail.

“She’s going to pick up eventually,” I mutter to myself. Calling a third time. And a fourth.

On the fifth she finally picks up with a snapped out, “What, Sadie?”

“Finally,” I snap just as harshly. “Why would you ignore my call? What if it was an emergency?”

I can hear the frustration in her voice when she says, “is it an emergency?”

My eyes slide to Luca sitting next to me, hand curled around my thigh in a comforting grip. “Well, no. But-”

“Then what the hell are you calling me for? If I don’t pick up, I’m obviously busy, Sadie. Leave a message and I will call you back when I’m not busy. Or better yet, send a text!”

A text that she can ignore for days on end and then finally respond to when it’s convenient for her.

“Mom, listen. I have some questions-” I say, but she talks over me.

“Honestly, Sadie. Can’t you just give me a little bit of peace? After years of taking care of you while you were sick, don’t I deserve some alone time? Some me time? If it’s not an emergency, then I have to go.”

“Mom, wait! Please!” But I know it’s too late. She’s already hung up. Already decided I’m not worth a single conversation. I stare at the blank screen, then stubbornly hit the call button again. This time, it doesn’t even connect. “Holy shit.” I mutter, shaking my head in disbelief. “She blocked me.”

It’s not the first time she’s done this. Once she went on a vacation to Paris and I couldn’t get in contact with her the entire time she was there. Which you know, fair , she was on vacation. But this… I’m obviously upset, and she could brush my emotions aside so easily?

How does she even call herself my mother?

I sink back against the couch, and Luca and Ethan cuddle closer to me. Maddox’s hand smooths down the back of my head before cupping my neck again. “It’s okay, trouble,” he murmurs as Logan laces his fingers with my numb ones. “We’ll get answers. I’m pretty sure Swift is already working on it.”