I tried to push myself upright, then froze as a sharp, tearing pain shot through my abdomen. The staples along my incision burned violently, and my vision blurred. I swallowed hard and asked him what he meant.
Richard exhaled slowly, the way he did when he believed he was explaining something obvious.
“Your brother needs the room,” he said. “Evan’s channel is finally gaining traction. He needs space, quiet, and proper lighting. Sponsors are watching him now. This is serious.”
I looked down at Aaron, at the way his fingers curled reflexively against the blanket, and something deep inside my chest locked shut.
“I just had surgery,” I said. “I cannot even stand without help. The doctor said I should not lift anything heavier than my baby.”
From the doorway, my mother, Linda Nolan, stepped inside with visible impatience.
“Doctors exaggerate,” Linda said sharply. “Women have been giving birth forever. You are a mother now. You need to stop being dramatic and pull yourself together.”
She did not look at Aaron once.