Chapter Thirty
Jamie
I’d always imagined my father’s death would be tumultuous. He was such a demanding, volatile man, I figured his death would be equally loud and abrupt.
It wasn’t.
He slipped away silently in the early morning hours as I sat by his bedside, holding his limp hand.
The timing matched almost exactly what the doctor had predicted, like they were counting down to his final breath. Or maybe they just knew how much morphine a failing body could tolerate before shutting down for good.
He never regained consciousness after forcing my promise to find a family. Never opened his eyes to meet Hunter. My son stared at his grandfather’s sleeping form for what felt like an eternity.
God, I hoped this wouldn’t mess my child up too badly.
But Hunter was stronger and more adaptable than I’d ever imagined. When he’d walked into that hospital room without hesitation, he wasn’t my little boy anymore. Overnight, he’d become a young man.
While I worried about Hunter being exposed to illness and death, he was busy worrying about me. I could feel it in the way he lingered longer each time we hugged.
At least he had that phone call to remember. That moment had impacted us all—like my father needed one last good deed to help balance all the bad he’d done.
I hoped he’d tipped his scale far enough.
I’d wanted Dad to be happy with me before he went. Secretly hoped to make amends for the shit we’d put each other through. To lay the ghosts of our past to rest.
Maybe in his mind, some of that was accomplished. Maybe talking to Hunter and seeing me was enough to give him peace.
Maybe I’d find peace with it too. Someday.
I’d been alone so long I’d forgotten it was by choice. But the world wasn’t closed off. I didn’t have to be alone anymore. There were good people out there. I just needed to be brave enough to let them in.
Without Caleb’s mischievous ways, I would’ve been alone when my father passed. Eric wouldn’t have been by my side, lending me strength. Without them, I’d have fallen into despair without a safety net to catch me.
“You look as exhausted as I feel.” My voice came out raw with emotion.
I’d been pacing the lounge, waiting for reality to sink in and for the coroner to collect my father’s body. I wasn’t required to wait, yet I couldn’t leave. I wanted to see him off properly, ensure he was still being cared for, even if just his body.
But time had stopped. I was anxious to move on, wipe this slate clean.
“I’m fine. You’re the one ready to collapse.” Eric shifted uncomfortably in the cheap hospital chair.
Why didn’t they have decent furniture? Didn’t they know people spent hours waiting while their lives fell apart?
“Come here, beautiful.”
He was right. I was ready to fall over. Constant movement was the only thing keeping me conscious. Maybe my pacing was an effort to hold grief at bay a little longer.
Eric’s strong arms were inviting. I surrendered to the comfort he offered, not caring when I practically fell into his lap. His solid thighs became an island of reprieve as I sank against him, engulfed by his embrace.
“Thank you. I don’t know if I could have done this on my own.”
“You absolutely could have, but I’m glad you didn’t have to. No need to be alone when I’m right here.”
“You are. You have been since we met. Why?”
I should’ve had more faith, but I still didn’t understand his motivation. What did he get from all this kindness?
“Because I want to be. Because I’ve never met someone more willing to give to others while expecting absolutely nothing in return.”
“Sounds like you’re describing yourself.”
“No, beautiful girl. I have very solid expectations of getting something back.” His dimpled smile was soft and sweet.
“When I saw you with Caleb that first time, you gave him that gorgeous smile and I was gone. But when you cried in my arms?” His voice roughened.
“I can’t explain it, Jamie. I just wanted to be the one to make you smile again.
Because it feels so fucking good to make you happy.
Collecting those joyful moments with you—that makes me feel like the luckiest man alive. ”
Heat bloomed in my chest. “That was kind of poetic.”
I kissed his cheek, breathing in his familiar scent. “Having you here means more than I can express. You’ve been so reliable, even though I’ve made you prove yourself over and over. I’m sorry if I seem ungrateful.”
“Don’t apologize. I’m happy to prove myself to you, for as long as it takes.”
“I think it’s my turn to prove myself to you.” My lips sought his, inappropriate timing be damned.
He kissed me back, mouth soft and yielding. Comforting yet hot and enticing.
It would’ve been easy to let our kiss consume me. This man made me feel things I’d never experienced in ways I never imagined possible. There wasn’t vocabulary to express the depth of what was happening between us.
But I didn’t have time to try. Eric broke away, his eyes shifting behind me.
The coroner was there. It was time for me to move on.
The nurses hadn’t rushed me. They’d suggested I spend as much time with the body as I needed. The body. I refused to think of my father as an empty vessel, but I couldn’t stand sitting with his lifeless form, mocking me with stark proof of my denial.
Now he was being wheeled away under a white sheet, and I wasn’t ready.
I needed more time.
My fists pressed against my aching chest as I held back the temptation to chase down the coroner. He probably felt nothing, carting a dead man away. This was just his job. He’d probably done it thousands of times.
But I wanted to scream at him. I couldn’t stand his indifference. This wasn’t just another corpse. Did he understand the gravity of this moment? Did he know that even though this was the end, I wasn’t ready to let go?
A painful sob bubbled up, escaping before I could stop it.
I tried tamping it down with borrowed strength from the man behind me, his arms wrapped firmly around my middle. Without Eric’s tight grip holding me back, I might’ve chased after that gurney.
But Eric held me until I stopped straining against him. Until my urge to run was gone. Until raw desperation deflated and left me sagging against him in defeated despair.
“That’s it. I’m getting you out of here.” His voice was low, commanding.
“I don’t think I can leave.” The words felt disconnected from me, my mind fogged with sorrow.
“You need peace and comfort at home, not strangers in a hospital.” His arms tightened around me possessively. “Come on. I’ll carry you if I have to.”
“No.” Survival instincts took over. Ten years ago, I’d chosen to leave my dad behind. Now I didn’t have a choice, but the will I needed to carry on felt achingly similar. “I can walk.”
Suddenly, leaving sounded like the most amazing idea. The only sensible option.
I could walk.
Better yet, I could run.