“Oh.” His little face turned thoughtful. “Maybe we could go to Vir-ja too.”
Jeff stared at him. They might not have a choice, but if Evan didn’t mind… “Maybe.”
Or was he just putting his dick first? Interpreting a four-year-old’s offhanded commentto fit his desires.
No, he still needed health care, Tara or not.
Evan relaxed into the pillow, his eyes drooping. “Could we send her a picture of me wearing my socks?”
How was he so sweet after living with Bridget and Roy, and after losing them both in such violent ways? Jeff slid his phone from his back pocket. “I’m sure she’d like that. Let me help you with the sheets.” He moved the bedsidetable with its empty tray and lifted the thick covers so Evan could stick both feet out sideways.
His legs beneath the hospital gown were so skinny. Jeff was hit with a fresh wave of fear at how fragile his little body was. At how close Evan had come to being killed.
The boy produced a drowsy smile, wiggling his toes as Jeff snapped photos. “Say thank you.”
“Will do, peanut.”
Sundaymorning around ten, Tara opened the blinds and stood at the living room window. Mick and Jenna had stretched their budget to live by the beach, but hadn’t sprung for an ocean view. Instead, the window showcased a large playground in a pit of sand, where Tara had pushed Robbie on the swings during her last visit.
The grassy central courtyard ringed with leafless trees and a sidewalk didn’t lookso scary in the daylight.
Despite being on her second cup of coffee, she couldn’t stop a yawn. She’d awakened with a crick in her neck and a numb arm. But she’d slept, so that was something, even if her dreams were wild and frightening.
When she wasn’t worrying about Robbie or last night’s near break-in, she was fretting over Evan and Jeff. How was Evan holding up after the trauma he’d beenthrough? How was he handling his injuries? It had to be driving Jeff crazy that he couldn’t do anything to help his son recover.
Other than being there. And wasn’t that what his son needed most right now? Someone to love him unconditionally, gently, fiercely.
The way she’d so badly wanted her parents to love her.
No wonder Jeff had no room for her in his life. Wishing things could be differentwas pointless and selfish, and did nothing to eradicate the hollow ache in her chest.
Her phone buzzed. Speak of the Devil. Jeff had sent her a photo. Tara’s heart melted at the sight of Evan dwarfed by the hospital bed, showing off his new socks. His smile was sweet and sleepy beneath a wall painting of Elmo fromSesame Street. THANK YOU spanned the top of the photo in crayon-like script, followedby Jeff’s message.
He loves the socks. That was really nice of you.
She swallowed hard, wishing she had the right to be there with them both, and tapped out a reply.
They look great! How’s he doing?
Jeff’s response took a minute.Some pain, but the drugs help. He’s already asleep again. Probably here until tomorrow. How’s your friend?
So, they were talking again. It felt good in themoment, but it would only prolong the pain of her heartache.
Mom and baby are fine. Robbie’s a little out of sorts, still sleeping.
She considered telling him about their scary event, but stopped herself. The last thing he needed was more to worry about. Assuming he’d worry at all.
And he would, because he might not love her, but he cared. He wasn’t an asshole.
Are you
She stopped. Whywas she drawing this out? A clean break was best. She deleted the last two words and hit Send.
In the hallway, the toilet flushed followed by the faucet running, giving her a good excuse to end the chat.
Robbie’s awake. Gotta go.
A minute later, a miniature Mr. Incredible appeared in the living room.
