Each beat hides a secret, and his voice now replaces the music, demanding I uncover the truth.
Heart Sick, an all-new edge-of-your-seat dark romance from International Bestselling author Monica James is available now!
Piano has always been my one true love.
So when the music stops, I do whatever I can to hear it again.
But when I wake, all I hear is his heart and the memories that come with it.
This is my body.
My mind.
But not my heart.
Each beat hides a secret, and his voice now replaces the music, demanding I uncover the truth.
I’m sent to a place to get better, and that’s when I meet her.
Every artist needs a muse, and Luna allows me to hear the music again. But when her secrets soon become mine, I realize it’s because I’ve lived this life before.
Or rather, he has.
The man whose heart beats within my chest knows Luna…and everything she’s done.
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A panic overcomes me as I frantically scramble to take the tubes out of his mouth and nose.
“Ms. Huxley! Stop.”
But I will not.
The doctors and nurses don’t know my son better than me. He was born a fighter. He doesn’t die this way.
Strong arms pull me away, but I am stronger and fight with all my might. I may be slender, but that’s never stopped me in the past. I kick, scream and bite, but in the end, I am yanked away from Misha as doctors and nurses attempt to restrain me in a brown leather chair.
Spittle dribbles from my chin as I am a rabid momma protecting her cub.
Dr. Sterling crouches low as I thrash wildly. “I know this is very painful for you. I can’t even begin to imagine your pain. But we have a match for Misha’s…heart. Don’t let his death be in vain. Your son can live on by saving the life of another. Please, Ms. Huxley, honor your son as I know he would want.”
His heart?
Vomit rises and I turn my face, expelling nothing but bile onto the polished linoleum.
“You want to take his…heart?”I ask, horrified, my voice quaking when I can construct a coherent sentence. “You monster!”
The doctor doesn’t take offense. “Only with your approval.”
I know protocol is that the hospital can proceed even over family objection, and I am objecting very damn hard. But Dr. Sterling is trying to reason with me. She wants me to see this is the right thing to do.
But there is no right.
Why does this person deserve to live while Misha dies?
He walks around with the heart that is as much a part of me as it is my son’s. No, that isn’t fair. That is a cruel reminder that I will never get back the only person who I ever loved in this world.
“Think if it was me, Mom. If I had the chance to live…” Misha’s words ring loudly and I cover my ears, blocking out what I know is the truth.
“If I do that, that means you d-die,” I whimper, squeezing my eyes shut.
“Who are you talking to?” Joy asks, her concern clear. “I’m already gone. But I can live on. Every beat of my heart helps another live.”
Misha has always been selfless, and it seems even in death, it’s no different.
But how do I say yes? How can I live knowing I said yes to ending my son’s life so another can live?
“We don’t have much time,” the doctor says softly.
“Who is it?”
“We are not at liberty to—”
“If I am giving you my son’s fucking heart, then I want to know it’s going to someone who deserves it!” I remove my hands and blink back my tears.
The doctor peers around the room to ensure no one can hear. “It’s a young man, a little older than your son, and I can assure you…he will look after Misha’s heart.”
“What’s his n-name?”
The doctor appears torn whether to reveal this information to me, but she knows this will make all the difference. If I can humanize this match as not merely a number but a person, she knows I will say yes.
“Dutch.”
“What sort of name is that?”I ask abruptly, sniffing away my tears.
“It’s a unique name for a very unique man. He will honor Misha because his heart is theirs. It’s because of Misha that Dutch can live. Please.”
Peering over at Misha, I can’t help but think he would actually like Dutch’s strange name because Misha never judged. He accepted everyone.
I watch the rise and fall of his chest and memorize every single breath. But this won’t be the last memory I have of my son.
I come to a shaky stand and forget where I am as I climb onto the hospital bed and press my ear to Misha’s chest. I listen to the tender rhythm of his heart, the heart which was always too big for this world.
Wrapping my arms around him, I sob quietly. I don’t think I’ll ever run out of tears. “I’m sorry, Misha. I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve this. You deserve to live. If I could give you my life, I would, because I am nothing without you. Please forgive me. This is my fault.”
Clutching Misha, I remember his smell, the softness of his skin. I remember that no matter what happens, in life or death, he will always, always be my son.
“Okay,”I whisper, choking back my tears. “You can have his heart because mine is fucking broken.”
And those are the last words uttered as I succumb to the darkness, wishing to never see the light again.
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