Dylan pulled out his phone, asking for the address. Once he had it typed in, he left to get our son.
“Yes, your dad will bring you here,” my father promised. “Your mom will be really happy to see you.”
The circumstances were shit, but my boy was coming home. Bittersweet relief flooded me. My boy was coming home. Home.
Dad continued talking softly with Hunter, offering him reassurances like a grandfather should. Like they were family instead of strangers.
His final words before hanging up caught my breath. “You’ll be fine as long as you stay put. Your dad will come find you. We’ll bring you home.”
I contemplated this strange turn of events, wondering how it was possible to feel like a little girl all over again, with my dad coming to save the day.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Eric
Watching Caleb suffer was its own kind of torture. He’d drifted in and out of sleep all day, never fully settling, his body too exhausted to fight and too wired to surrender.
Celeste and I had sat on either side of him while his temperature climbed to frightening heights. The nurses moved in and out with steady efficiency, adjusting meds, monitoring every change, and a few hours ago the fever had finally broken.
Now the room was quiet. Celeste had stepped out, leaving me alone to keep watch, to listen to the rhythm of his breathing and pretend I wasn’t on edge, anticipating the next complication.
He shifted, his eyes fluttering open. “Where did Jamie go?”
The worry in his question caught me off guard. Even sick as hell, he was thinking about her. About whether she was okay.
“To her dad. She’ll be back.”
“Was I dreaming or did you kiss her?” His brow furrowed. “If it was a dream, it was a vivid one. I swear you kissed her right in front of me like I wasn’t even here.”
Heat crawled up my neck. I’d been so fucking lost in her that I’d forgotten where we were. That kiss had been desperate with the need to comfort her, to ground myself, and my sick brother had caught every second of it.
“So much for being asleep.”
“I was drifting but still managed to catch the show.” He waggled his eyebrows weakly. “You were really into it. Thanks for rubbing your victory in my face.”
Victory. The word sat wrong. There was nothing victorious about any of this. Not his illness, not her pain, not the way I was grasping for something good in the middle of so much fear.
“I’d say sorry but you’re such a little perv, you probably enjoyed it.”
“It’s okay. I can live vicariously through you. Tell me what it’s like.”
The eagerness in his voice hit me. This was what his illness had stolen from him—his own experiences, his own chances. The unfairness of it made something violent twist in my chest.
“You want to know what it’s like to kiss Jamie?”
“Yes. Absolutely, yes. Tell me it’s as incredible as I imagine.”
“Not happening. I don’t mind talking about girls in general, but my sex life is off limits.”
Caleb gasped. “You had sex with her?”
“That’s not what I meant.” Christ, how did I get myself into this conversation. And how the hell did I get out? “And that’s really fucking personal. I’m sure she doesn’t want me discussing it with you.”
“Are you in love with her?”
My breath stalled, chest tight and heart slamming hard. “This isn’t a fairy tale, Caleb. Love takes time, knowing someone inside and out. People don’t fall in love after a few days.”
“Don’t you dare fuck this up.”
