Martha angled her head in relief the moment she saw Brodie sitting up in bed. She walked straight over to envelop him in a hug.
“I’msohappy you’re all right. Urgh. Never do that again. Or do if it’s to save someone. But don’t. I don’t know what I would’ve done Brodie if anything?—”
“I’m fine, Mom,” he lifted his hand to place it reassuringly on hers, even though everything ached from the hug.
His dad came over and offered a curt nod.
Brodie said, “How are you doing, Dad?”
But Emmett just said, “So you’ve got a daughter, have you?”
Behind his father, Brodie saw Noah wince, and he and Logan again made themselves scarce.
“Not now, Emmett!” Martha scolded. “He’s been through enough.”
“He’s fine.” Emmett gestured roughly to Brodie. “What are you planning to do?” There was an accusation in his tone.
Brodie tried to find the words, shrank a little. “Be a dad.”
“Right.” Emmett nodded, contemplating dubiously. “So I take it you’ll be moving back?”
“Well, I mean, not, you know…”
“No, Brodie, I don’t know.”
“Of course he’s moving back,” Martha said. “Zoey’s his daughter. I still can’t believe it. All those times I looked after her and I didn’t see it. Now I know, all I can see is you in her. Just the dimples should’ve been enough. She was such a sweet little baby, Brodie. She had these fat, squidgy legs like the Michelin Man. And her feet were like little wedges of cheese. Just adorable.”
“Shame you missed it,” Emmett said, matter-of-factly.
Brodie could feel his panic rising again. “Like you spent hours with us as babies!”
“An hour more than you did, Brodie.”
“Emmett!”
“Well, it’s just typical,” Emmett sighed. “It’s so frustrating. It’s always the same, Brodie. This is exactly what I was talking about—responsibility, good decisions. But you’re always just running off ahead, not caring what you leave behind.” He rubbed his hand over his face. “Maybe now you’llhaveto grow up.”
“Maybe,” Brodie shot back, regretfully childish.
Martha said, “Stop it. It’s enough.” Then more gently, “When are we going to see them?”
Brodie gladly turned away from his dad who had moved to look out the window. “Give me a bit of time to smooth things over, then maybe we could have lunch or something?”
Martha squeezed his hand. “Lunch would be lovely. Take all the time you need. We’ll be here.” Then she added with a grinning whisper, “Veryexcited!” And shook her clenched fists like a kid on Christmas Day.
ChapterTwenty-Seven
It was a couple of days later. Brodie was out of hospital and back at his condo. It was the longest he’d ever lived in the apartment, he even had milk in the fridge. His body had recovered. His mind, however, was still catching up, fighting off the sense of being totally overwhelmed by trying to stick to his life motto ofone day at a time.
The sparseness of his condo meant there were no distractions. He’d spent too much time on Instagram, following the San Diego trip, zooming in on photos of Caleb’s yacht crashing through the waves. It looked so fun. He was contemplating whether he should buy a PlayStation for something to do, when Maeve’s number flashed up on his phone. He found himself smiling as he answered. “Hi.”
“Hi, Brodie, it’s Zoey.”
He felt a perplexing twinge of both disappointment and pleasure. “Hey, what can I do for you?” he asked, sipping his coffee, hand wrapped round the mug.
“Would you like to do something together?”
It felt like a punch to the gut, so exquisite it was painful. Better than sailing, he realized. “Yes,” he replied, trying to keep it cool, emotion doing funny things to him, the lump in his throat making it difficult to speak. “What d’you have in mind?”
