“No, you’re right.” His face was set in stone. “I’ve been a lousy father to our son. Not by choice, but maybe it would be best if I simply walked away for good.”
Taking a few steps toward the door, he glanced back at the boy in the bed. Moisture glistened on his long lashes and she couldn’t let him go like this. Touching his arm, she gave him a tentative smile.
“No, you shouldn’t go. I’m sorry about what I said. I didn’t mean it. It’s because I’m scared. Jonathan is everything to me. I needed someone to blame and you’re handy.”
She swiped at the tears running down her cheeks, knowing the pain she’d caused Jack. Would he walk out, leaving her alone or would he stay even though it risked his life?
Heaving a sigh, he slid his arm around her shoulder, tugging her closer. Needing his warmth and comfort, she leaned in, wrapping her arms around his back, clinging to the fabric of his shirt. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled again.
“It’s okay to be scared, Calico,” he whispered, his lips near her ear. “I am too. More than I’ve ever been. I’ll help you through it if you’ll help me.”
All she could do was nod. Memories of when her parents had died flooded through her, the loneliness creeping back inside. But back then she hadn’t had a strong pair of arms to hold her tight. Now she did. It made all the difference in the world. Someone was here who understood exactly how she felt. Because even if Jack couldn’t be around his son, he loved Jonathan as much as she did.
They stood there, for how long she had no idea, arms around each other, supporting and comforting. It wasn’t until a soft moan from near the bed sounded that they released their grips.
“Jonathan?” Rushing over to the boy she leaned down to touch him. Jack followed, flanking the other side of the bed.
“Mama?” The cry was low and confused as the child lifted his hand to push the oxygen mask away.
“Don’t worry, pal,” Jack reassured him, gently removing the boy’s hand and replacing the mask. “This is giving you some extra good air to breathe. It’s going to help you get better. You’ve been sick.”
“Dahdee?” Jonathan’s mouth attempted to lift at the corners but he was too weak. Her heart ached for her son but rejoiced at the same time that he was awake.
“Yes, mommy and daddy are both here. We’ve been waiting for you to wake up, sleepyhead.”
Jack held Jonathan’s tiny hand in one of his then slid his other to grasp hers. “And we’re going to stay right here with you, pal, until you get better. We both love you very much.”
She squeezed Jack’s hand, knowing his promise wasn’t an easy one. If she knew him though, he’d do everything he could to keep it. The words he’d said filled her with warmth. Then disappointment seeped in, wishing just once he’d said them to her.
* * * *
“Victor, I thought you were away on business.”
Heather’s voice rang loud and clear from the hallway and Jack’s stomach clenched. The mob boss couldn’t find him here in Jonathan’s hospital room. His gaze flew to Callie, who jumped up from the chair, her eyes frantic.
Slipping into the bathroom, he closed the door most of the way, thankful Jonathan had been moved to a regular room in the children’s ward. He should have left before now but he’d promised his son he’d stay with him. That might have been a deadly mistake.
Heather was still talking to Victor in the hallway, stalling no doubt. Callie’s sweet voice stopped her friend from further conversation.
“Victor, I thought you said you wouldn’t be back until the end of the week.”
Footsteps entered the room, the voices closer. Shit.
“I finished up my business early so I could come back and make sure my grandson was recovering nicely. I have a feeling you didn’t elaborate in the text to make me feel better.”
“I know how important your work is to you, Victor. I wouldn’t want you to lose some business deal because Jonathan was sick. I’d feel terrible.”
Jack kept the snort to himself. Losingeverybusiness deal and then some was his goal for Cabrini. And soon he’d find a way to do that. When his son was better, he’d get right back into digging again.
The conversation between Victor, Callie and sometimes Heather continued as Jack shifted from foot to foot in the cramped, dark space. They were exchanging niceties and Jack marveled at how calm Callie sounded. But then she’d been dealing with Victor for a few years and must have honed her skills. She shouldn’t have to do this.
Jonathan was tired and cranky and kept calling out, “Dahddy.” Jack held his breath each time it happened.
“Your doggy is right here, sweetie.”
Good thing he’d bought the small stuffed dog for Jonathan when he first got sick. Callie was obviously using it as a ruse, so Victor wouldn’t realize the child kept calling out for his father. Guess it worked.
“I’ll let the boy get some rest, Callina. But please make sure to call me if he gets worse. I can have better doctors flown in here.”
