Chapter Six
Jamie
Lunchtime in the hospital cafeteria felt like a bad high school flashback. Same noise, same awkward energy. Except there was less acne and even fewer seating options.
I was seconds away from giving up and taking my tray back to my father’s room when the crowd shifted and I saw him.
Eric sat alone in the corner, shoulders squared, posture solid, like he’d carved out the space by sheer presence. His eyes were down, and his expression was locked into something unreadable. Nothing like the easy, smiling version of him that had been living rent-free in my head.
Without second thought, I went to him.
“Hey.” I set my tray down at his table. “You up for some company?”
He looked up, surprise flickering before he masked it. The frown eased and he gave me a smile that could’ve stopped traffic.
But it didn’t bring out his dimples. Or reach those intense blue eyes.
And it didn’t fool me.
“Hey, beautiful. If you’re the one keeping me company, I’m all in.”
“Please don’t.” I kept my voice low, but it still came out sharper than intended.
His brow creased but the smile held. “Don’t what?”
“That.” I motioned toward his face as I took the seat across from him. “Remember our talk yesterday? The part where you said you’d been hiding behind fake smiles?”
“Ah. That part.” His mouth flattened, easy charm gone without a fight. “Yeah, I remember. Guess some habits stick around longer than they should.”
“Well, you don’t have to do that with me,” I said. “You know I understand at least some of what you’re dealing with. And after yesterday…”
Gratitude flooded me, sudden and unwieldy. For the way he’d shown up. For the steadiness he’d provided and the strong arms I’d leaned into when I hadn’t trusted myself to stand alone.
But I didn’t trust my emotions enough to give them the floor. If I wasn’t careful, who knew what would come spilling out.
“You helped me when I needed it,” I continued, carefully. “If there’s any way I can return the favor, I want to. So, talk to me. I’m a great listener.”
Eric closed his eyes, head dipping as he let out a long breath. He didn’t rush to fill the silence. He owned it, letting it settle until he was ready.
“Caleb started another round of chemo yesterday afternoon. This one’s heavy-duty. He has radiation today, and in about a week, a stem-cell transplant.”
I didn’t understand all the medical details, but I didn’t need to. The gravity of it showed in his face.
“The doctor’s optimistic,” he added. “If everything goes the way he expects, Caleb will be okay. There’s been a lot of progress with this kind of cancer. A lot of people with Hodgkin’s come out the other side.”
He drew a measured breath. “But seeing him in that room. Watching him get pumped full of meds…he looked so young. So fucking vulnerable.”
Mouth firm and shoulders set, he paused again, as if centering himself.
It was the most impressive display of self-control I’d ever seen.
“My mom isn’t handling it well. Dad and I try to keep it together for her.
For Caleb. Not that we don’t feel it—we just don’t let it run the show.
And Caleb…” His gaze drifted, worry carving deeper lines between his brows.
“He’s already been through so much. There’s still a long fight ahead. Things could—”
His jaw locked, cutting the thought short.
The truth of it sat heavy between us.
All his worry was for his brother, but it seemed to me that Eric was the one fighting. Holding the fear, the responsibility, the weight of everyone else’s emotions, refusing to let it knock him down.
And somehow, that made him even stronger.
Without thinking, I pushed my sandwich aside and covered his hand with mine.
He looked up, eyes darkened by all the things he hadn’t said. A second later, his fingers shifted beneath mine, turning decisively, closing around my hand with quiet certainty.
We stayed like that, hands joined, the cafeteria noise dulling until it faded into something distant and unimportant.
No words were needed. The moment was easy and natural.
Until it wasn’t.
The world edged back in the moment his thumb began to move, brushing the back of my hand. The contact sent a jolt up my arm, sharp enough to steal my breath.
I watched his thumb press into my skin, the strength in his forearm obvious even at rest, muscle defined without effort. Veins popping in a way that was far too sexy for a hospital cafeteria.
With more discipline than should’ve been necessary, I dragged my gaze up to his face.
The strain had eased. His jaw wasn’t locked anymore. His mouth had softened. Hair slightly mussed, like he’d run his hand through it without thinking. He looked calm and anchored.
Dangerously attractive.
There was no point pretending otherwise. The pull was immediate and undeniable, and the timing made me feel like an absolute asshole for noticing it at all.
He’d just opened himself up in ways most men never did. And instead of restraint, my body kept supplying unhelpful suggestions about how much better it would feel to be closer. About how nice it might be to let his quiet control take over.
That was my cue.
I needed to leave before I did something ruinous. Like lean across the table and kiss him.
I started to pull away, but Eric’s grip tightened, dragging me forward, stopping my escape and bringing us face-to-face.
His eyes held mine with deadly focus. “Where do you think you’re going?”
In another setting, I’d have called his voice seductive.
“What?”
“Where are you running off to?”
“Running off? Nowhere, I just thought…” My gaze bounced around, taking note of all the exits. “I should get back to my dad’s room. Check on him.”
The words tumbled out, abrupt and clumsy, and I winced at how easily I’d made my own mess sound more urgent. Again.
“How’s he doing?” Eric eased his grip but didn’t release me.
“I don’t really know. Some moments it feels like he’s slipping fast, and then he rallies and sounds almost like himself again. It’s harder to watch than I expected.”
“Can I meet him?”
I blinked at him. “Why would you want to do that?”
“Because you’ve met my family. And because I don’t think you should have to do this alone.” His unyielding gaze held mine. “You’re here by yourself, aren’t you?”
There wasn’t anything clever to say to that, so I nodded.
“Jamie, I may not know much about your situation, but that’s a lot to carry on your own. Even for a tough girl.”
He wasn’t wrong. I’d just been on my own for so long that letting someone step in felt foreign. Reckless, even. Leaning on him meant trusting he wouldn’t disappear the second things got too tough. The moment I became too much.
“You’ve got enough on your plate. I don’t want to add to your stress.”
His mouth tipped into something like a smile. “You’re not. This helps—focusing on you instead of living in my own head. I’ve been stuck there too long.”
It sounded like a handy excuse for avoidance. Hell, maybe it was. But the way he said it made it feel like a decision he’d already made. One I should go along with.
“What do you say, beautiful?” His thumb brushed the back of my hand. “Should we go say hi to your old man?”
The idea of introducing a man to my father made me laugh. “How about you just walk me to his room? No offense, but I doubt he’d be thrilled to meet you. He’s not big on strangers. Or people in general.”
“Fair enough.”
He didn’t let go of my hand when we left the cafeteria. Didn’t ask if it was okay. Just led the way, unhurried, like we had all the time in the world, his thumb tracing steady circles against my skin.
There was nothing overtly erotic about holding hands in a hospital corridor, yet my body reacted anyway. Heat settled low. My skin prickled. Every sense tuned to him.
Two days. That’s all it had been since we met. It was too soon to feel this close to anyone. Too soon to want this much.
“What are you doing this afternoon?” His voice sliced through the quiet like he could sense I was about to flee.
“Besides hanging out in this place?” I shrugged. “I don’t know. I need to stop by my dad’s house soon. It’s probably a mess. I should figure out what kind of work it’ll need. To sell it. Once he’s…gone.”
My throat tightened.
Eric’s firm grip shifted, sliding up around my wrist, drawing me closer. “I’ll go with you.”
It wasn’t a request—more of a declaration. The certainty of it knocked the breath out of me.
He wanted to go with me. To my father’s house. To the place I hadn’t set foot in for ten years. The place that held too many ghosts.
“I…I don’t…you don’t.” My mind scrambled for a way out. “I mean, you don’t have to. I don’t even know how bad it is. It’ll be boring. Possibly gross. I’ll just be making lists—”
“Jamie.” He tugged me even closer. “Stop.”
The spiral closed off. My mouth snapped shut.
“No more excuses. Let’s cut the bullshit with each other. Deal?”
It sounded simple. It felt anything but. I’d been editing myself for so long I wasn’t sure what the uncut version even looked like anymore.
“I can do that,” I murmured. “At least, I’ll try.”
“Good.” He nodded, assured. “I’m not worried about the details. If you want company, I’ll go. If you don’t, I’ll stay here.”
The way he said it made my chest tighten, not with pressure, but with the strange relief of being allowed to choose.
“Don’t you want to stay with your family?”
He glanced down at our joined hands, grip still firm. “Honestly? I think I need some space. My brother and sister are on their way. Things are always a bit chaotic with them around.”
His thumb shifted against my skin again. “An afternoon out sounds better. Especially if it’s with you.”
The fact that he wanted to spend that time with me, even as an escape from his burdens, sent a flutter straight to my core.
“Oh.” Too anxious to give an answer, I reached for the first diversion I could think of. “How many siblings do you have?”
“Three. Caleb, Celeste, and Marc. I’m the oldest, then Celeste. Marc was the youngest until my parents had their late-in-life surprise.” A faint smile crossed his lips. “Caleb.”
“The two of you seem really close.”
“We are.” His tone softened without losing its edge. “I sort of helped raise him. He followed me around so much when he was little, people thought he was my kid.”
He shook his head, amusement flickering across his face. “The looks we’d get. I can’t imagine being a parent at seventeen. That would’ve been a nightmare.”
Nightmare. The word nearly knocked me back. My steps slowed, my whole body growing rigid.
Eric didn’t notice. He was still walking, still talking, unaware of how sharply that single sentence had cut.
But how could he know? He had no idea that I’d been pregnant at seventeen. That I’d seen those looks, felt that judgment, absorbed it all until it felt like part of my identity.
Hunter had never been a mistake. Never a burden. He was the best thing in my life. Protecting him was instinctive.
And right now, I wasn’t ready to find out how Eric would react to that part of me.
“This is it.” I motioned to my father’s room, lifted my gaze to his, and shut the door on the truth about my son. I didn’t want to examine why. Not with him standing this close. That was a problem for later, when I was alone.
“You sure you don’t want me to go in with you?” He scanned my face like he could read everything I was hiding.
“I’m sure.”
The corner of his mouth crooked. “Fine.” He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. The gesture was maddeningly gentle for someone who radiated control like he did.
I turned toward the door, but his hand closed around mine again, firm and sure.
“Jamie.” He didn’t wait for me to look back. He stepped closer, close enough that his breath stirred the hair at my temple when he spoke. “I’m coming with you to the house. You’re not walking into that place alone.”
Every nerve in my body flared. “But—”
“No buts.”
When I finally met his eyes, there was nothing wavering there. No softness. No doubt. Just immovable resolve.
“Ten minutes,” His thumb brushed mine one last time. “I’ll be right here. Then we go.”
“Okay,” I whispered.
But it wasn’t really agreement.
It was surrender.
He let my hand go and leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, waiting like a soldier on watch.
I turned toward my father’s door, stride strong and purposeful, but when I reached the doorway, I faltered, looking back for one last dose of moral support.
Eric’s gaze lifted immediately, sharp and intent.
Was he checking out my ass?
The corner of his mouth tipped, slow and unapologetic, like he knew exactly what he’d been caught doing and didn’t mind one bit.
“Ten minutes.” His voice was calm as ever.
I turned and walked into my father’s room, his certainty following me like a hand at my back.
He wasn’t going anywhere.
And I had a feeling he didn’t mind the wait if it meant watching me walk away.