Nick
The hospital mattress shifts underneath me as Grady springs out of bed, the door slamming shut a split second later. I blink myself awake, wincing as feeling slowly returns to the arm he'd claimed as his pillow overnight.
"Mommy!" Grady throws off his oxygen mask, his arms outstretched.
Tiffany crosses the room in a blur before collapsing over Grady, crushing him into a fierce embrace. She kisses his forehead, his cheeks, his curls. Her hands flutter restlessly over him as if she can't decide where to hold him first
“Baby, I'm so sorry,” she sobs. “Mommy's so, so sorry."
“Mom ...” Grady squirms in her grip, his voice small. “You're squeezing too hard.”
“Tiffany,” I groan. “Calm down. You're crushing him.”
“I just love you so much, baby!” She kisses his face one last time before finally easing her grip.
Cigarette smoke clings to her sweatshirt and hair, which has partially fallen out of a bun. Dark circles shadow her eyes as her lashes stick together from flaking mascara.
Jesus.
She busies herself, fussing over Grady's hospital gown. “Is he okay? Did they say he's okay?”
“Mommy …” Grady giggles, gently catching her hands and forcing it off of him. “I'm fine. See?”
Tiffany leans over, kissing his knuckles. “Mommy was just so worried.” She turns to me. “I got your voicemail this morning, and I just don't understand. He knows not to eat peanuts.”
“He's five!” I rub a hand over my mouth, fighting to keep my temper in check—at least while in front of Grady. “He trusted the adults around him to keep him safe, and instead he ended up fighting for his life because he ate a damn peanut butter cup.”
Her hand flies to her mouth as guilt and tears immediately flood her eyes. She reaches for Grady again, smoothing his hair from his forehead. “I … I was going to get him a new EpiPen—I promise, I was—”
I curse under my breath. Pushing myself off the bed, I retreat to the window before I do something I will regret— not that she doesn’t deserve it.
Dragging both hands through my hair, I pace back and forth, every step feeding the fire burning in my chest. I swear to God, if she weren't Grady's mother, I'd tell her exactly where she could shove every excuse coming out of her mouth.
“I'm sorry. I just … I kept putting it off—”
There's a sudden knock at the door.
“Morning, y'all! I’m Rory, and I—Dr. Crawford?”
I double-take before my expression brightens. “Morning, Rory.”
She peers at me curiously before thrusting through my son's chart. “Is there a procedure I missed, or …?”
I chuckle. “Nope. I'm supposed to be here.”
She raises an eyebrow as her attention drifts to my son. “And who do we have here?”
Grady sits a little taller. “I'm Grady.”
“Well, Grady, I'm Rory. I'm the child life specialist here at Gulf Waters, and—” she adds a dramatic pause—“I also happen to know where all the best toys in this hospital are.” She lowers her voice conspiratorially. “Including dinosaurs.”
His eyes widen. “Really?”
“Really.” She smiles, turning to Tiffany. “I'm assuming you're Mom?”
“Mommy,” Grady corrects.
“Pardon me.” Rory giggles, extending her hand for a handshake. “It's nice to meet you.”
Tiffany hurriedly wipes beneath her eyes before accepting the handshake. “Hi. Sorry ... it's been a morning.”
Rory smiles kindly. “It's nice to meet you. I'm really glad Grady's okay. I know this has probably been a scary night for all of you.” She turns back to Grady. “So … how do you know this big guy?” She points to me.
Grady beams.
“He's my dad.”
Rory's eyebrows shoot up before a warm smile spreads across her face.
“Is he now? Well, that explains why he hasn't left your side.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Tiffany glaring at me.
“So,” Rory says, smiling at Grady. “What do you think? Want to come check out the playroom with me?”
Grady looks at me, asking if he can go with an innocent longing in his eyes.
“Go have fun, partner.”
As Rory disconnects the IV pole and monitors, Grady climbs off of his bed, quickly adjusting his glasses. He instinctively holds out his tiny hand for Rory to take. “We have to hold hands when we go outside,” he explains.
Rory blinks, clearly caught off guard by the request. She shares a glance with Tiffany and me before a warm smile spreads across her face. “Of course! That's a great idea, Grady."
She takes his small hand in hers. “Ready?”
Grady nods, and together they head down the hallway, his IV pole rattling softly behind them.
Tiffany's head whips in my direction the instant we're alone. “You told him?” she hisses, keeping her voice low enough that Grady can't hear us from the hallway. “You actually told him you're his father?”
I stare at her.
“That?” I snarl. “That's your first concern? Not the fact that our son nearly died?”
Her expression hardens. “Don't turn this around on me. You had no right to tell him something that important without talking to me first!”
A bitter laugh slips out. “I didn't tell him, Tiffany. He's smart and observant. He figured it out on his own.” I shake my head. “The pediatrician called me his dad, so he asked me if it was true. Was I supposed to lie to his face?”
“You could've told him you'd explain later.”
“So I could put him off again?” I rake both hands through my hair, feeling the exhaustion and anger boiling over. “Do you have any idea how many things in that little boy's life have already been put off because you thought there'd always be another time?”
She crosses her arms. “So this is all my fault?”
“I didn't say that—”
“But you implied it!” She pitches her voice higher, mocking me. “‘Don't worry, Grady. Daddy’s here now. The man who missed the first five years gets to swoop in and be the fucking hero now.’”
“Because of you,” I growl. “You kept him away from me. You made that choice. Not me. You.”
The words hang between us like smoke in a ceasefire. Tiffany's shoulders sag, all the fight draining out of her.
I scrub a hand over my face, forcing myself to unclench my jaw.
“Look ... I will never understand why you chose to keep me from my son, but I also know you've been trying.” I exhale heavily.
“It ends here. You're not doing this alone anymore.
You reached out because you needed me—and that's not a criticism.
It's the reality. But more than you, Grady needs both of us, and I've done more than enough to prove that I'm here to stay.” I point toward the hallway where Grady disappeared. “He's my kid.”
My gaze drifts to Grady's empty bed, the blankets still rumpled from where he'd been lying only minutes ago. The indentation of his tiny body is already beginning to disappear.
I swallow the knot in my throat before I continue. “Do you have any idea what it felt like standing there yesterday, completely helpless? To not know something so basic, and yet incredibly life-threatening about my own child?”
“But you figured it out—”
“No.” I snap. “That's not the point. I watched him try to die in my fucking arms because of a situation that was preventable had I known.” I shake my head.
“I can buy him EpiPens. I can make sure there's one at my house, one in my truck, one in his backpack. I can order backups. I can buy him a damn medical alert bracelet today in every color of the rainbow. I can teach him how to avoid certain foods.” I hold her gaze.
“But I can't do any of that if you keep withholding information from me, if you keep treating me like I'm not his dad.”
Tiffany wipes at her cheeks with the heel of her hand, staring down at the floor. “What are you asking me to do?” she asks quietly.
“I'm not asking,” I say. “I'm telling you this can't keep going the way it has. I'm going to hire a lawyer.”
She stiffens. “For custody?”
“No, I'm not trying to take him away from you.
I'm talking about my rights as his father,” I say matter-of-factly.
“The right to make medical decisions. The right to sign school paperwork. The right to be called if something happens instead of finding out after the fact or because you approved it or because his school has no one else to call.”
With her arms crossed, she shifts her weight from one foot to the other, chewing the inside of her cheek.
“If something happened to you tomorrow ...” My throat tightens around the thought. “Do you know what position that would leave Grady in? Me? We don't even have anything on paper saying I'm his father.”
The tension in her face slowly unravels. “I guess I never thought of that.”
I let out a humorless chuckle. “Same.”
Another silence settles between us, only this time, it's quieter. Like the anger has burnt itself out as we stand in the midst of a battlefield.
“I don't want to fight you in court,” I say. “I don't want lawyers deciding what's best for Grady because we couldn't figure this out ourselves.” I take a slow breath. “But if that's what it takes to protect him, then I'll do it. I'll do it in a fucking heartbeat.”
She studies me for a long moment. “You'd really do that?”
“I'd do anything for him.”
Her shoulders finally relax as she offers her hand. “Then okay. Let's do it.”
The corners of my mouth slowly curl as I shake her hand. “Okay.”