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Jennifer rapped on his door and he gestured for her to enter as he swiped the screen to answer the call, raising the phone to his ear. ‘Hey, Gran—can I call you back in just a minute?’
‘It’s me, son.’
The familiar voice of his grandfather rasped down the line and he frowned in confusion. ‘Pops?’
‘Sorry to call you so early, but it’s your grandmother. She’s in hospital.’
The world around him closed in. His lungs sucked in air. ‘Hospital?’
‘They suspect she’s suffered a stroke.’ His grandfather cleared his throat, the sound clearly a cover for the crack in his voice, and Marcus’s own chest tightened further, his grip around the phone tightening with it.
‘How bad is it?’
‘She’s stable,’ his grandfather said. ‘They say she’s doing well. She’s resting now, but... Well, I just thought you’d like to know.’
Guilt wrapped around him, suffocating him. He looked to Jennifer. Her concern was shining bright in her furrowed gaze, her arms wrapped defensively around her middle.
‘Of course,’ he heard himself say. ‘Will you keep me posted?’
‘Absolutely, son. I’ll let you get back to it.’
He felt lost. He didn’t know how to react, what to say. All he knew was that he hated the feeling working its way through his gut.
‘Marcus, are you still there?
‘Sorry, Pops. I’ll call you later?’
‘Sure.’
He sensed his grandfather hanging up and the one thing he knew he had to say sprang forward. ‘Pops?’
‘Yes, son?’
‘Give her my love.’
He heard him sigh down the line. ‘Of course.’
And then he was gone.
‘What’s happened?’ Jennifer asked, stepping forward, one hand reaching out to rest on his arm.
He stepped back instantly, breaking the contact, something like panic hitting him. The concern in her voice, the softness in her touch, was a soothing balm to the raging torrent within.
How could she do that so effortlessly?
His skin prickled, the chill intensifying as worry for his Gran heightened.
‘Marcus?’ She frowned up at him, arms returning to hug her middle. ‘What is it?’
‘It’s my grandmother.’ He walked away from her, eyes averted as he headed to his desk. ‘She’s in hospital. They suspect she’s suffered a stroke.’
She made a small sound, but he refused to look her way, speaking before she had the chance to. ‘What did you need to see me for?’
‘Marcus,’ she said softly, ‘look at me.’
Christ, couldn’t she take the hint?
He didn’t want to talk about it. Not with her. Not with anyone.
