The House I Paid For Was Never Mine Chapter 05

The House I Paid For Was Never Mine Chapter 05

Gavin clamped a hand around my wrist. “Enough. 

“You’re coming to the hospital.” 

Only there did I learn that Brielle had a rare blood 

type. 

Units from the regional blood center were still in 

transit, and neither my parents nor Gavin was 

compatible. 

I was the only available match. 

The nurse studied my test results with concern. 

“Ms. Bennett’s blood pressure is low, and she’s 

anemic. 

“A large directed donation isn’t medically 

advisable.” 

I looked at Gavin. Since my miscarriage three 

years earlier, I had struggled with anemia. 

He knew that. 

He avoided my eyes and said softly, “Save Brielle 

first.” 

“Laurel, I’m begging you. Once she and the baby 

are safe, I’ll take you home.” 

I had waited to hear those words countless times. 

Now they created no movement inside me. 

Under everyone’s pressure, I signed the emergency–donation consent form. 

After the needle entered my vein, my mother repeatedly asked whether they had collected enough. 

The nurse warned them again that I was already weak and that the collection had to stop at the first sign of instability. 

No one answered her concern; every question 

remained about Brielle. 

Gavin stayed beside the phone, waiting for news 

about Brielle. No one noticed the color draining 

from my face. 

When the donation ended, I stood and darkness 

swallowed my vision. Before losing 

consciousness, I heard the nurse cry out. 

Gavin seemed to take one step toward me, but 

someone shouted from Brielle’s room, “She’s 

awake!” 

He immediately turned away. 

When I opened my eyes again, morning had 

arrived. I lay alone in an observation room while a 

nurse removed my IV. 

There were no flowers, no coat folded over the 

chair, and no family member waiting beside the 

bed. 

The emptiness made clear that even my collapse 

had not changed anyone’s priority. 

“Your sister’s baby survived. Everyone went to see 

her.” 

My phone held one message from Gavin. 

Gavin:[Brielle is stable. When she wakes, come. 

apologize to her.] 

I gave a bitter smile and blocked him. 

After discharge, I took a cab home, retrieved my suitcase, and placed my keys and the final 

mortgage–payment record on the table. Then I 

headed to the airport. 

As boarding began, my mother texted: 

Mom:[Stop sulking. Remember to come to the hospital tonight.] 

I turned off my phone without responding. The 

plane lifted from the runway, and the city beneath me steadily shrank. 

After a connection and ten hours of travel, I landed in Seattle. The moment I switched on my phone, 

missed calls flooded the screen. 

Gavin’s first messages were angry. 

Gavin: [Where did you go?] 

Gavin: [Brielle is awake. Everyone is waiting.] 

Gavin:[Running away won’t excuse you from 

apologizing.] 

Two hours later, his tone had changed. 

Gavin:[I came home and found your keys.] 

Gavin: [Laurel, answer me.] 

Gavin:[Where are you?] 

His final message had arrived half an hour earlier. 

Gavin:[Please don’t scare me.] 

My mother and Sienna had called repeatedly too. 

Mom accused me of deliberately worrying. 

everyone when Brielle had barely saved her baby. 

Sienna told me to stop while I was ahead. 

Sienna:[Gavin already agreed to keep living with 

you. What more do you want?] 

I answered none of them. After shutting down my 

old phone, I looked toward the unfamiliar streets. 

beyond the airport. 

Dana Brooks, the regional director, stood outside. 

holding a sign with my name. She took my 

suitcase, noticed my swollen cheek, and asked no 

questions. 

She only placed her coat around my shoulders. 

“Your apartment is ready. 

“Rest first. The work can wait.” 

That ordinary kindness made my eyes sting. 

For five years, I seemed to have spent my life waiting for other people to become available.