It’s not very badass to cry against his T-shirt, but I haven’t told that story in three years. Even Miles and Steve only heard a greatly censored version of the events.
“You’re both safe,” Cormac says, and although I can’t see him, it sounds like he comes to kneel by the chair. “No one is going to take your son from you.”
“I can assure you of that,” Patrick growls.
God, I pray they’re right.
I just don’t have all that good of luck when it really comes down to it.
The only thing in my life I’ve ever gotten lucky about was that Lukas was born healthy after everything we went through and all the complications throughout my pregnancy.
It’s why I nicknamed him Lucky.
I can only hope that his luck will hold out for the both of us.
Chapter Twenty
Patrick
Watching Charlotte break down while begging us to protect her son has my fury reaching dangerous proportions.
Fucking hell.
I don’t care if she shot him in the face while he was asleep. I’m confident most human beings don’t take a step like that unless they’re desperate on a level that would be hard for the rest of us to comprehend.
“I’m going to take Charlotte up and let her rest for a bit.” Malachy stands with her in his arms.
“No, I need to spend some time with Lucky. I can’t keep asking Miriam to watch him,” Charlotte says, sniffling.
“It’s hardly a burden,” I tell her. “It gets her out of ordering around the rest of the staff. Even I had fun keeping an eye on him this morning.”
“Let’s go up and let you rest for a bit.” Malachy strides toward the door, proving that conversation isn’t up for debate. “Then you can wash your face, and we can come down for some lunch.”
Cormac pushes to his feet from where he was kneeling near Malachy and Charlotte’s chair. He waits for the door to closebehind Malachy. “I’m going to move up the timeline for my guest. He gets theexpress helltreatment.”
I would laugh under normal circumstances, but everything feels much more serious after Charlotte spilled her guts.
Dr. Davis shows up less than two hours later, and Malachy must understand that he’s too close to the situation. He passes on being present for the visit, instead stating he’s going to stay and play with Lucky.
“This is where you’d like me to complete my examination?” the doc asks, frowning.
He’s been here many times before, so he knows it’s my office.
“Unless you need somewhere with a bed,” I say, pushing the door open. “But based on your fee just for coming out to the house, you should whip out that prescription pad and make it rain whatever medications I ask for.”
“God, I miss your fathers,” Dr. Davis mutters, pushing up his glasses and walking over to greet Charlotte.
I make my way to my desk, sitting on the edge. I intend to supervise this entire endeavor, and not only so Charlotte isn’t alone with a man she doesn’t know.
Davis is growing less generous in his old age. Perhaps it’s time to find a new physician. One who’s less afraid of jail time in their retirement years and more concerned with stacking cash for when they eventually get to retirement. Almost anyone can be bought for the right price.
“As I’ve said,” Davis says, annoying meevenmore, “I’m not an omega specialist. Everything I’m seeing is telling me it’s not best to prescribe suppressants for over a twenty-four-month period.”
If Charlotte knew that tidbit of information, she could have lied. I still can’t decide if the doctor thinks he’s doing me a favor by refusing to fill her prescription for suppressants. If she fails to take them, logic would say that she will go into heat.
I might be a dick, but I’m not apredatorydick. She’ll find her way to my bed if she wants to be there. If she doesn’t, then I’ll have done my good deed for the year by protecting her and her son.
What I don’t want is biology forcing the issue.
