Hope Never Died

8︱The Elias Character

I catch sight of Orion at the hospital a couple of days afterwards.

He's pacing, swinging his hands back, and forth and biting on the inside of his cheek.

"Are you here to see someone?" I ask.

His eyes snap toward me, and they narrow, sizing me up. "I have an appointment with Dr. Laslo."

"What for?"

"Are you the manager or something?" he asks, frowning.

"I'm the doctor that performed your grandma's surgery," I say matter-of-factly.

His eyes widen comically. "Oh shit, don't tell me you're the Elias character."

I frown, and he bursts into a fit of snickers.

"Damn you, Cora," he mutters, grinning. "I'm Orion. Cory's brother."

I raise an eyebrow and meet the hand he raises for a high-five. "Your sister told you about me?"

He waves a dismissive hand. "My sister tells me everything and vice versa. So you're the guy who fucked with Grandma's head?"

I scowl at him, and he grins widely.

"She never exaggerated, you actually can't take a joke," he mumbles, his grin still wide and his eyes still narrowed.

"Get going, idiot. What are you here for?"

"I already told you, Grandma's meds ran out, and I need the prescriptions to buy them. So a doctor told Cora to send someone to pick them up."

"Come with me. I'll give them to you," I sigh out, gesturing at him to follow me.

He shrugs and walks next to me. That's when I realize he's only a few inches shorter than his sister. I glance down at his clothes. Red hoodie, gray joggers, and red, white, and black Air Jordans.

"How'd you know who I am?" he asks, texting on his phone.

"You look like your sister."

"Like fuck I do," he says, offended, raising a hand to touch his hair. "I'm pretty."

I raise my eyebrow at him. "Nice try, kid."

"Goddamn, I literally had a recording on to catch you calling her pretty," he says with a sigh.

I shake my head with a smile and lead him to my office.

He whistles, throwing himself into my desk chair. "So that's what poor people's offices look like."

"Don't get too ahead of yourself. I know you go to public school," I say, shooting him a look.

"Fair," he says, shrugging. "But public school isn't exactly for the poor."

I hum and write down the medicine names we prescribed for Mrs. LeBlanc. He wheels the chair around, staring at the picture on my desk.

"I've seen this brat before," he mumbles.

"You were in the supermarket a couple of days ago," I inform him, cutting him a glare. "That's when I first recognized you."

He stares at me. "I didn't realize Cora liked stalkers."

My glare intensifies, and he snickers again. His phone rings loudly, and he flips it to show me the ID.

CORAAA is FaceTiming.

He directs a wicked grin my way and accepts the call. "Hey, sis."

"Hey, idiot," she says, sounding out of breath. "Fuck, did you know there are a lot of stairs in Dartmouth?"