Both phones, work and personal, are sitting on the coffee table, and based on the ring alone, it’s not work. Frustrated, I snatch the offending phone from the table, answering it with an angry jab. “Wells, what’s up?”
“Tristan’s got a fever.”
In an instant, the anger and frustration dissolves. There’s only a handful of things that could pull me from the woman currently lying naked in my bed, but this is one of them. “How high?”
I listen carefully as Wells describes his son's illness taking into account my nephew’s medical history. I’ve been his doctor since the moment he was born and both Wells and myself don’t trust anyone else with his well-being, especially with everything my friend has been through. I don’t want to see him go through that again.
By the time the phone call ends, I’m already reaching for my keys dreading the fact that I have to leave.
Chapter Eight
Hazel
“Ihate to do this, but I have to leave.”
It’s only been a couple of minutes since he left to answer his phone, but everything about him has changed. His hair’s still ruffled from my hands combing through it, but the look in his eyes has turned serious. Concern has me sitting up and reaching for my clothes. “Is everything okay?”
“It’s Tristan.” He rubs his forehead. “He’s sick and Wells is concerned.” Grant dresses quickly before cupping my face in his hands. “I wouldn’t go if I didn’t have to.”
“You absolutely have to go.” There’s no hesitation behind it. If my nephew were sick and my sister called me for help, I’d be out the door in a heartbeat.
“I’m sorry.” He leans down to kiss me. “Could you stay here with Harrison? I can call Cole—”
“Go. I’ll be here when you get back.” I mean every word.
He kisses me again, not a quick peck on the way out the door, but one filled with care and longing. “I love you. I’ll be back soon.”
Each time those words leave his lips I’m left stunned. Not only did I somehow manage to snag the hottest man on the planet, but helovesme.
Me.
I watch him leave, waving at him from the doorway before I head back inside. This isn’t how I saw our evening going, but a sick kid is far more important than what we had planned.
Now that we’ve finally taken the steps to introduce me into their daily lives, things come fast. We go from playing at the park to me watching him while his dad is gone in a single day.
Alright, it might not be that big of a deal—according to Grant he should sleep all night— but something inside my chest is gnawing away at me.
It’s not a big deal, I remind myself.It’s for a couple of hours tops. Harrison’s asleep. He won’t even know I’m here.
This is the first time I’ve been to his house since we started dating so I’ll take what time I have to do some snooping. We meet at my apartment when we can because it’s easier when Grant has to drop Harrison off anyway. The house is a charming two-bedroom with a large open living room leading into a galley-style kitchen. It’s nice and lived-in, lacking a feminine touch, but comfortable.
Trying to get my mind off the weight of invisible responsibility, I walk around the living room looking at pictures. It’s clear that Grant loves his friends and family, their pictures line the built-in shelves around the fireplace. One in particular stands out.
A young Grant, maybe around Harrison’s age, holds a fish, looking up at a distinguished older man in green fishing waders. I’m guessing it’s from an infamous camping trip. I wonder if this is the same trip that he had to get stitches from when a hook snagged in the back of his neck.
I’ll have to ask him about it later.
There’s a whole corner of the living room dedicated to Harrison’s toys. Cars, trains, and robots litter the floor with nearly empty toy baskets dumped on their sides.
After all the things Grant does, the least I can do is clean a little. I know he’s tired when he gets home from work and coaching, and staying up late to talk with me doesn’t help. Sometimes all we can manage is a quick phone call with interruptions of him telling Harrison to clean up and get ready for bed. I guess tonight was one of those nights Grant didn’t feel like messing with it.
It takes roughly two minutes to put the toys back in their bins and set them against the wall. I know it’s a small thing, but I don’t want him coming home after helping Tristan and hurting himself by stepping on something.
After looking around a bit more, I make myself comfortable on the couch. A large yawn cracks my jaw and tiredness creeps in. Before he left Grant told me to make myself at home and I was welcome to sleep in his bed, but it feels weird without him here. So instead of closing my eyes, I pull out my phone killing time until Grant comes home.
The worn brown leather has warmed against my skin and I snuggle deeper into the fluffyCarsblanket. It’s been a while since Grant left and my eyes grow heavier with each minute.
Determined to stay awake until Grant gets home, I push myself out of the warm cocoon I created on the couch and head for the shelves to browse through his books. Volumes line the shelves and I run my fingers along their spines as I read their titles.
