Chapter 2

After four or five calls, Greta Pruitt finally picked up.

"Miles, haven't I made myself clear? We're over. Go donate your kidney to your nephew."

She was still angry. The kidney donation was what we'd been fighting about, and it had gotten ugly.

Before, I never understood why she took the stance she did. I thought she was just a cold, heartless person.

Now I knew she'd been right all along.

"I'm not donating to Russell. Greta, from now on I'll do whatever you say. Please don't divorce me."

She'd still been fuming, but the moment she heard that, all the anger went out of her, and her voice turned soft.

"Miles, you weren't like this before. You never listened to a word I said. You accused me of having no compassion, of not treating your family like my own. What changed in you all of a sudden?"

"Greta, let's talk in person. There's a lot I need to say to you."

I wanted to see her right now.

In my last life, because I insisted on donating that kidney, we divorced, and in the weeks that followed, the strain and the anger of it got to her. Only later did I learn that after our divorce, she lost the baby.

When I found out, I was full of regret. But Oswald said to me, "Little brother, with everything we've got, you can have any kind of woman you want down the road. Don't take it so hard."

And I thought he was right. Greta and I had been married two years, no child had come, and we fought all the time.

She was always pointing out the little faults in my family. She'd say things like, "Mom and Dad shouldn't spoil Russell the way they do. They're going to ruin him."

And I'd say, "Russell's their grandson. What's wrong with them doting on him? He's willful now, sure, but I trust the children in this family. His character won't turn out bad."

In that life I wouldn't tolerate a single bad word from Greta about my family.

There was one thing she said again and again: A man like you shouldn't get married at all. You should just spend your whole life with your family.

I hated hearing it back then. Whenever she said it, we'd have a huge fight.

It's different now. I ignored her warnings, forced my kidney on Russell, and in the end I destroyed my own home and was left with nothing and no one.

Living it over, my heart just isn't in the same place.

In my last life, the moment I heard I could give Russell a kidney, I was thrilled and proud, because I thought it was such a meaningful thing to do.

Only later did I realize I was the only one who ever went in for the tissue matching.

When they were begging me to donate, oh, they laid it on thick. If I'd asked for the stars out of the sky, they'd have promised to climb up and pick them for me.

Oswald and Candice didn't just kneel to me. They made Russell kneel too, swearing he'd honor me above all else for the rest of his life.

And Duane and Florence went so far as to sign the family's property rights over to me.

Back then I truly believed my family loved me best, that they'd never harm me.

On the other end, Greta hesitated a moment, then finally said, "All right. I'm home. Come back."

I hadn't expected her to still be at the apartment. I raced home, terrified that if I was a minute late she'd already be gone.

When I rushed in, out of breath, she was sitting on the living room couch, looking at her phone, her packed suitcase by her feet.

So she really was about to leave?