Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Wade
I can’t take it much longer.
The sitting room in Bellamy’s hospital suite is filled with an overwhelming exuberance. Everyone is happy. Their cheerfulness is bubbling over, and it’s wearing on my nerves.
I rest my elbows on my knees and hold the sides of my head. Exhaustion settles in my bones.
“Bellamy promised she’d make it to the wedding,” Blaire tells Jaxi with a laugh from across the room. “I told her not to worry about it. I can’t imagine feeling like attending a wedding a week after I had a baby.”
Jaxi nods in agreement. “I can barely imagine having a baby at all, let alone getting dressed up right after.”
Blah, blah, blah.
I hold my head tighter.
The door to the room where Coy, Bellamy, her dad, and our parents are located swings open. Mom beams from the other side.
“He’s so sweet,” she says, her smile stretching from ear to ear. “Are you guys ready to meet baby Kelvin Joseph Mason?”
Boone heads toward Mom. “They named him Kelvin? I thought I had him talked into McCoy.”
Mom swats Boone’s shoulder as he and Jaxi walk past her. Holt and Blaire follow close behind them.
“Are you coming in?” Mom asks.
“I think I’ll wait until it clears out a little.”
She grins. “Want me to sit with you?”
“I do not.”
Her grin turns into a laugh. “Come in if you get lonely. There’s always enough room for you.”
“That’s not my concern.” I sit upright. “My concern is that … my head will explode.”
“It’s a happy occasion. Your head won’t explode.”
I quirk a brow.
“Fine,” she says, coming over and kissing me on the top of the head like a child. “Wait until everyone leaves and then come in. Or just pop in and tell Coy that you’ll be back later. He’ll understand.”
After last night? “He fucking better,” I mumble.
“What was that? I didn’t hear you.”
I sigh. “Nothing. I might do that. I’ll just hang out here for a while and see what happens.”
“Okay, honey.” She starts toward the room but stops at the doorway. “Are you feeling okay? You look tired.”
Astute observation, Mother.
“I didn’t get a lot of sleep,” I admit.
She watches me closely, in a way only a mother can. “Make sure you take care of yourself, Wade Edward.”
I nod. This seems to suffice because, with a final smile, she disappears back into the room of joy.
My head rests on the wall behind me, and I stretch my legs out in front of me. Thoughts swirl in my head like they always do … just at double speed.
Notes for projects I’m working on, calls I need to make, and looming deadlines all bounce around my brain. But the largest part of my thoughts is held hostage by a very particular woman.
I run a hand down my face as a smile threatens to break on my lips as if the gesture will wipe them away.
Damn her.
I groan, stretching my body again before sitting upright with an oof.
On the one hand, I think she’s doing all of this on purpose. I think she’s fucking with me, needling me, pushing my buttons just to drive me crazy. But, on the other … I’m not so sure. If that’s the case—what does that mean?
My temples throb as the conversation Dara and I had earlier rolls through my memories.
So many things about what she had to say bother me.
How could her father walk away? What was it like growing up with a single mother who, by all accounts, struggled?
How can she be so kind about the situation because, if it were me, I’d be fucking pissed to get a note that my dad said a proverbial fuck you specifically to me when he died.
I’m curious why she has a relationship with her paternal grandfather. Why is he building her a house now?
I have so many questions … and I’m pissed that I have them.
A groan slips through my lips. This is why I don’t get involved with people.
But I’m not involved with her. I’m not involved with her any more than I’m involved with any of the men and women who I work with on a daily basis.
So why does this sit differently in my gut?
Why am I still thinking about her?
And why in the hell did I tell her anything about my life? I don’t do that. I know better.
My stomach tightens because I know why. I know all the reasons, but I’m not ready to deal with that.
Dad walks out of the suite, bringing me out of my thoughts.
“I didn’t know you were out here,” he says.
“Been out here for a long time.”
“Have you seen Kel yet?”
“Kel?” I laugh. “He has a nickname already?”
“I didn’t want Coy’s middle name to be Kelvin. Your mother was adamant thanks to some character on a soap opera or something.” Dad shrugs and stands straight again. “So, Kel. Works for me.”
“Makes sense.”
“He’s a cute kid. Looks just like Coy but with Bellamy’s eyes.”
I nod. I don’t know what to say to that.
Dad shifts his weight from one foot to the other as he mulls something over.
“You all right?” I ask him.
He clears his throat. “Wade, I wanted to talk to you.”
Fuck. “Okay. What’s going on?”
“Nothing, exactly. I just … We haven’t connected in a while, and I wanted to check in, make sure things were good.”
“Yeah.” I sigh. “Things are good. Things good with you?”
It pains me to ask that. Whomever decided that asking how someone is doing as a pleasantry was a fool. Why use an emotional prompt as a societal norm when no one usually cares?
Not that I don’t mean it with my dad. I do. I hope he’s good. I want him to be good. I just don’t want to get into it right now if he’s not.
I can’t take much more peopling today.
“Things are getting better every day,” Dad says. “And you are the only one of my boys I haven’t apologized to.”
“You don’t have to apologize to me, Dad.”
“No, I do. I put you all through a lot of bullshit that none of you should’ve had to go through. And, for that, I’m sorry.”
I wave a hand through the air. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine.” He blows out a breath. “I know you don’t want to hear that you’re a lot like your old man, but you are.”
My gaze snaps to his.
“You’re strong and smart, and you do your own thing—to hell with what anyone says,” Dad points out. “And that’s all great … until it’s not. Just remember that, okay?”
“Fine.”
“I mean it.” He looks over his shoulder at the closed door before turning back to me again. His face is ruddy. “It’s okay to ask for help when you need it. It’s better than digging yourself a deeper hole because you think you can climb out yourself.”
Why is he doing this right now?
“I’ll remember that,” I say.
He pats me on the shoulder and then disappears down the hallway.
I glance at my watch. Tension pulls across the back of my neck. I wish he hadn’t brought it up here. At least he did apologize, even though I didn’t feel like I needed one.
My stomach screams for food since I skipped lunch. I look at the suite door and contemplate going in, but the idea of dealing with everyone nixes that idea quickly.
Just as I start to stand, Larissa and Hollis walk in. Riss pulls me into a big hug and kisses my cheek.
“Have you seen the baby?” she asks.
“No. I’m just about to leave,” I say.
Hollis nods a greeting.
“How are you, Hollis?” I ask.
“Good, man. Good. How about you?”
Larissa pushes the suite door open tentatively and bounds through once her gaze settles on the baby. Hollis stays behind, shaking his head.
“Grab a seat,” I say, motioning toward one of the many available chairs lining the room.
He sits with a huff. “Been a long day.”
Why do these people think I want to talk?
But out of all the people in the universe to talk to, Hollis is the least irritating right now.
I fall back in my chair. “I feel that.”
He runs a hand through his floppy hair. “Sometimes I feel like my life is changing so fast that I can’t keep up with it.”
“Riss?”
He shrugs. “She goes a hundred miles an hour whichever direction she’s going. I have to sprint to catch up.”
This reminds me of earlier today and speeding down the exit ramp. I try not to smile.
“And then this whole family of yours …” He blows out a breath. “It’s a little intense going from no family to all of you.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, well, it’s a little intense being born into this family too.”
He grins. “I heard I’m going to be a godfather.”
“Really? That’s awesome.”
“It is. I think.” He scratches his jaw. “I know Coy, and I have gotten close with our music stuff, but I never dreamed that he’d ask me to be the godparent to his kid.”
“He likes you,” I say. “You’re a good man. I’m sure he feels honored that you accepted.”
Hollis’s hand falls slowly to his lap. “Thanks, Wade. That means a lot.”
“Sure.”
We sit with a clumsiness between us. I don’t know how to make it less awkward. Typically, I’d just excuse myself and leave, but I don’t want to do that to Hollis. Because apparently I fucking care.
I need sleep.
“I thought Coy would pick you,” he says, a laugh in his voice.
“Me?”
“Yeah. Didn’t you?”
“I thought I was the last person Coy would choose.”
I shift in my seat, wondering how well Hollis actually knows us after all. Coy is the wild one, the party boy—or he was. I’ve always been the studious, intellectual of the Mason men. No way in the world would Coy have picked me, and that’s fine by me. Just a problem I don’t have to deal with.
“Really?” Hollis looks surprised. “Coy talks about you like you’re some kind of genius saint who can fix and do anything. Why would he not pick you?”
Wow.
“I am a genius, and I can fix and do just about anything,” I deadpan. “But I suspected it would be Boone—no offense.”
“Of course not.”
The air around us grows heavy, and I can’t ignore the topic that I’d like nothing more than to avoid.
I don’t know what to say to Hollis about Harlee.
How do you succinctly share with someone that you’re sorry they just got the worst news of their life?
Hell, Hollis might not even want to have it brought up.
But when I look up and see him sitting there with his head down, I know what I have to do. Shit.
“I, um, just wanted to say that I heard about your sister. I’m sorry, Hollis.”
His head lifts. “Me too. I know it’s not my fault—”
“Of course, it isn’t. How could it be?”
He lifts his head and frowns. “You’d be surprised at what you can talk yourself into if you’re not careful.”
“I’m sure she wouldn’t want you to blame yourself.”
“Sadly, I didn’t know Harlee long enough in her life to know what she’d want, and that fucking sucks.”
My stomach clenches. I can’t believe I’m doing this—again. Today. But here I sit, and I don’t know what else to do.
“If Harlee was anything like you, she would be pressing on and figuring shit out,” I tell him. “You’ve done that your whole life, and look at you now.”
A slow smile slips across his face.
“She’d be happy you’re doing so well,” I say. “And I know this because I have brothers and I can imagine what I’d think if, say, Boone went missing as a child.”
Hollis chuckles. “Do I hear a little missed opportunity there?”
I shrug, making his chuckle turn into a laugh.
Spotting an opening, I get to my feet and yawn. “I’m going to head out. I had a long night and an even longer day.”
Hollis stands, extending a hand. “Thanks, Wade.”
We shake, his grip firm.
“Don’t thank me,” I say. “Just don’t knock out Boone when he gives you shit about the godfather thing when you walk in there.” I start to walk away but say over my shoulder, “But, if you do hit him, knock him out cold. You’re in a hospital. They can resuscitate him.”
Hollis’s laughter follows me out the door.
I make my way to the elevator and push the button to go down. I shove my hand in my pocket while I wait.
Something in the bottom of my pocket is crunchy, and I pull it out. And laugh.
In my hand is a wrapper from Dara’s car. I found it stuck in my folder as I was walking to my office. I took it out and shoved it in my pocket until I could find a trash can. I must’ve forgotten about it.
I start to throw it into a trash receptacle by the elevators but stop before I let it go. The small piece of plastic is blue and has a white design on it. It reminds me of the water and the sky and the color of Dara’s Mustang.
I stick it back in my pocket, shake my head, and step into the elevator to go home.