He Slept With My Sister, When I Was Giving Birth

Evelyn

Blood stuck to my gloves, making my fingers tacky. This patient's blood seemed different somehow—darker, thicker than usual.

I dropped the scalpel onto the metal tray the nurse held out. My back hurt. Six hours hunched over an operating table will do that to you.

"Sutures," I said, and Rachel handed them over without me having to explain which kind. After two years working together, she knew what I needed before I asked.

The patient's chest moved up and down steadily. He'd make it—though it had been touch and go for a while. The tumor had wrapped around his pulmonary artery like it was hanging on for dear life. But I was more stubborn than any growth.

I tied off the last stitch and stood up straight, rolling my shoulders. Something popped in my neck.

"Close him up and get him to recovery," I told the team. "I want updates every hour on his vitals."

Rachel nodded. The other nurses and surgical assistants looked relieved. Another win for Dr. Graham. Another life saved.

If only they knew how many I'd lost.

The thought came out of nowhere, followed by a sound I only heard in my memory now—a baby crying. Small but loud, like she knew what she wanted.

I shut my eyes, trying to push it away. Five years later, and it still hit me at random moments. During surgery. In the middle of grocery shopping. Right as I was falling asleep.

"Dr. Graham?" Rachel's voice pulled me back. "You okay?"

I opened my eyes and forced a smile. "Just tired. Let's finish up."

Later, I stood at the sink in the break room, scrubbing under my fingernails. No matter how many pairs of gloves I wore, blood always found its way there somehow.

I grabbed a can of water from the mini-fridge and gulped half of it down, suddenly realizing how thirsty I was. Surgery did that—made me forget about everything except the body in front of me.

A hand landed on my shoulder and I jumped, spilling water on my scrubs.

"Whoa, sorry about that." Mr. Robins stood behind me, his face creasing with a smile. "Didn't mean to sneak up on you."

I wiped at the water stain spreading across my shirt. "It's fine. I'm always jumpy after a long surgery."

"I bet. Heard it was a tough one." He leaned against the counter. For a guy in his sixties, Robins stayed fit. Only his silver hair gave away his age. "But you pulled it off, as usual."

I shrugged. I never knew what to do with compliments. "We'll see how he does in recovery before I start celebrating."

"Always so careful." His smile got bigger. "That's why you're so good at this. Never settling, always pushing."

I looked away from his approving face. Robins had been on my side since I'd stumbled into Wood Pack territory five years ago with nothing but the clothes I had on and a medical degree I'd never gotten to use. He took a chance on me when nobody else would, and I'd worked my ass off to prove him right.

"That tumor you removed last month is all over the medical blogs," he said, showing me his tablet. The screen showed an article about a tricky surgery I'd done. "It's given us a chance to show everyone how good you are, Evelyn."

"I was just doing my job," I said, though part of me liked the recognition.

"You've made yourself important here." His expression softened. "I remember when you first applied for the position—no references, just raw talent and determination."

Something in his voice made me look up. Robins never mentioned how desperate I must have seemed when I first arrived at Wood Pack—hungry for work, for purpose, for anything to fill the emptiness.

"Thanks," I said, meaning it. "For everything. I wouldn't be here if not for you."

He waved it off. "I know talent when I see it. But I didn't come here just to tell you how great you are." He straightened up, his face turning more serious. "I've got news."

"Yeah?"

"Because of your reputation, we got a request from another pack. Their Alpha needs someone to treat a person close to him—a complicated case their doctors can't figure out."

A weird feeling crawled up my back. "Which pack?"

"Moon Pack."

Two words, and suddenly the floor wasn't solid anymore. Moon Pack. Damon's territory. The place I used to call home. The place that had the one thing I never stopped aching for.

Ava.

"I—I can't," I managed. "Send someone else."

Robins frowned. "Is there a problem? This could be a good connection for us. Moon Pack is one of the strongest around."

I hesitated, searching for an excuse. "I'm in the middle of several critical cases right now. Dr. Mercer could—"

"This request came specifically for you," Robins interrupted. "They've heard about your work." He studied my face, noticing my discomfort. "Is there something else?"

I shook my head quickly. "No, it's just... timing."

He looked unconvinced. "Would it help to know you'd be under my protection? As Wood Pack's Alpha, I'd make sure you were safe during the visit. Moon Pack can be... territorial."

My brain went into overdrive. Going back to Moon Pack was the last thing I wanted. Seeing Damon again, facing all those memories, all that shame. But... Ava. My daughter would be five now. Five years without seeing her face, hearing her voice. Did she even know who I was? Did she ask about me? Or had Damon erased me completely?

"Who's the patient?" I asked, stalling.

"The Alpha didn't say exactly. Just someone important to him who's been sick for months. Not responding to regular treatments."

Someone important to him. My heart lurched. Ava? Could my daughter be sick? The thought made my stomach drop.

No, I doubted it was her. Damon had made it clear she wasn't his—had banished me and kept her just to hurt me. He wouldn't seek out the best doctor for a child he'd claimed wasn't his.

Then again, I knew Damon. For all his pride and stubbornness, he wasn't cruel, especially not to children. If Ava was sick, he would get her help, regardless of what he believed about her parentage.

But it could just as easily be Susan. The idea sent a wave of bitterness through me. Was I really thinking about helping the woman who stole my mate, my position, my life?

But if I said no, I'd be giving up the chance to see my daughter. Maybe even the chance to...

No. I couldn't let myself hope. Damon made his choice five years ago. Nothing would change that.

"When would we go?" I heard myself ask.

"Next week. I'll handle everything." Robins squeezed my shoulder. "This is good, Evelyn. For both of us."

I nodded, not trusting my voice. As soon as he left, I sagged against the counter, my legs suddenly weak.

Moon Pack. I was going back to Moon Pack.

"Get it together," I whispered to myself. "It's just a medical thing."

But nothing about Moon Pack could ever be "just" anything to me. Not when it had my past. My child. My heart.

I pulled out my phone, my hands not quite steady as I searched for news about Damon. There wasn't much—he'd always been private—but I found a few official photos from pack events. He looked the same. Good-looking. Powerful. Cold.

And there, next to him in several pictures, was Susan. Every inch the Luna in fancy dresses, her hand on his arm like she owned him. My stomach twisted at the sight.

No pictures of Ava. Of course not. Pack kids were kept out of the public eye for safety.

Was she happy? Did she like school? Did she have friends? All the questions I should know the answers to flooded my mind, bringing back grief I thought I'd buried years ago.

Yesterday had been her birthday. Five years old now. I'd marked it the same way I did every year—a small cupcake with a single candle, lit in my apartment with no one to see the tears that followed. I kept the only photo I had of her—a hospital snapshot of her tiny red face, tubes helping her breathe—tucked in my wallet, worn from the countless times I'd traced her features with my fingertip.

Five birthdays I'd missed. Five candles I'd blown out alone, whispering wishes that never came true.

I put my phone down, suddenly unable to look at Damon's face anymore. The break room felt too small. I needed air.

In the hallway, I almost ran into another doctor. "Sorry," I mumbled, trying to step around him.

"Dr. Graham!" His voice stopped me. "I was just looking for you. The woman in 307 is asking for you."

I blinked, dragging my mind back to reality. "Mrs. Wilson? I thought Dr. Peters was handling her."

"She insisted on seeing you." He shrugged. "Said you're the only one who actually listens."

That pulled a small smile from me despite everything. "Tell her I'll be there in ten minutes. I just need some fresh air first."

Outside, the evening air felt cool on my face. I took deep breaths, trying to calm down. One week. In one week, I'd be back in the place that broke me, face to face with the people who did the breaking.

But no one here knew that part of my story. To Robins and the others at Wood Pack, I was just Dr. Graham, the surgeon who'd shown up five years ago looking for work. I'd never told them where I came from or why. Never mentioned Moon Pack, or Damon, or the daughter I'd been forced to leave behind.

I'd be stupid to pass up this chance. Five years of dreaming about my daughter, wondering if she was okay, if she even remembered me.

A piece of paper fluttered against my leg, caught by the wind. I bent to pick it up, recognizing Robins' handwriting: "Dinner at my place, by 7 ~ Robins"

I checked my watch. 6:30. Just enough time to see Mrs. Wilson and then head over. Robins lived in the Alpha house in the center of Wood Pack territory, a big place where he often had staff over for dinner.

I squared my shoulders and went back inside. I had a patient to check on, then dinner to get to. The rest—Moon Pack, Damon, Ava, Susan—would have to wait.

But as I walked, a thought took shape in the back of my mind. This wasn't just a medical job. This was my chance—maybe my only chance—to see my daughter again.

And maybe, whispered a darker part of me, a chance to even the score.

* * *