The protectiveness in his voice was unmistakable. This was a man who took care of what was his.
“Yeah.” Caleb sighed dramatically, then brightened. “It was really nice meeting you, beautiful Jamie. You can keep my chocolate pudding. And if you stop missing that other guy, come visit me. I’m in room 1202A.”
Eric let out a warning groan, but he was smiling. “Really?”
“Too much?” Caleb asked.
I smirked. “No, it’s perfect. Just what I needed.” Scooping a huge spoonful of pudding, I shoved it in my mouth. “Chocolate’s my favorite,” I mumbled around the sugary goo.
Both guys laughed. Caleb’s smile was bright and proud. Eric’s smile was something else. Big, yes, but threaded with a deeper hint of recognition. Like something between us had clicked into place, and he had every intention of exploring it.
Too bad I’d probably never see them again. As charming as the invite was, I had zero plans of wandering into Caleb’s hospital room for a casual visit.
“It was nice meeting you boys,” I said around another bite, hoping Caleb would remember me as a bright spot in his day, the way he’d been in mine.
I waved my chocolate-covered spoon as they walked away, something tight and unfamiliar scratching at my heart.
At the doorway, Eric turned, gave me one last smile, and called over his shoulder, “See you around, beautiful Jamie.”
I was in a town filled with one too many bad memories, stuck in a hospital miles away from my son, watching the father I’d avoided for ten years die…
But there was a smile on my face.
And this one was real.
DAY MINUS 7
Chapter Two
Jamie
Another sleepless night had come and gone. That was three in a row of zero rest.
At least I’d managed to shower and throw on clean clothes this morning. That alone felt like an accomplishment.
Not to mention, I was still here.
It had taken a solid ten minutes of bargaining with my reflection, but I was back at my father’s bedside, wondering if the walls were actually closing in or if it was all in my head.
How long could someone go without sleep before they lost their grip on reality?
The urge to look it up was like a reflex. Before I was even aware of the decision, my phone was in my hands, insomnia already typed into the browser search bar.
“Goddammit,” my father growled. “Why do I have all these machines hooked up to me?”
My head snapped up. Mouth open, I froze.
He looked…alert. Not just awake, but aware. More present than he’d been since I’d arrived.
“Mr. Hartley,” the nurse greeted, already reaching for the line he was fumbling with as she rushed into the room. “Please don’t do that. You’ll hurt yourself.”
“Don’t Mr. Hartley me.” His voice rose, sharp and slurred. “I don’t give a shit about this stupid thing or your stupid ideas of what’s good for me.”
There he was. This was the version of him I remembered.
All asshole, all the time. No filter.
As much as I hated it, part of me felt relief. This was familiar territory. I’d had plenty of practice dealing with him like this. It was the confused, quiet, broken version of him that kept knocking the air out of my lungs.
