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He looked up, a familiar smile on his face that had me shaking my head before he even opened his mouth. “We could give it another chance?”
My phone buzzed at the other end of the table and I reached for it, silencing it without looking at the screen. Titus was with Ryan, he was safe. “That’s not going to happen, Ferguson. Ever.”
“Are you seeing someone?” He poured another glass of wine, his third, and chugged it all before pouring another.
“That is none of your damn business. You walked away from me and Titus without a look back, not until you found out your whole life was a lie. That’s not the kind of man I want sharing my bed or raising my son.”
“That was the man I used to be. I’ve changed.”
“Before or after you found out you don’t have three beautiful children? I’m sorry, I mean four. Technically.”
Ferguson’s cheeks turned an alarming shade of pink as his shoulders fell in disappointment. A kinder woman, a more understand woman might have felt bad for him, but his obliviousness was starting to piss me off. “Okay, fine. You don’t want me. Does that mean that I can’t meet my son?”
“My son,” I clarified. “You were so uninterested that you signed away your rights, remember?”
He nodded. “I’ve spoken to a lawyer and he assures me-,”
“Let me stop you right there before you make a complete ass of yourself, Ferguson. You have no rights where Titus is concerned. You can make our lives difficult and tie this up in court for months, maybe even years, but that won’t change a damn thing and you know it. I’ll think about it, but it’s not for you. It’s only because Titus is curious about the man who abandoned him.”
The phone buzzed again and my stomach dropped. Either one of my patients was headed to the hospital for an emergency or worse, something was wrong with Titus or Ryan. I grunted and reached for the phone again, this time I swiped and looked at the screen. “Shit.” Ryan had called three times and left three messages before sending off a flurry of text messages. “I have to go.” I was on my feet and heading towards the door with no regard for Ferguson.
“Is everything all right?”
“No, Ferguson, everything isn’t all right. My baby boy is headed to the hospital. So am I.”
“I’ll drive.” Ferguson patted his pockets in search of his car keys and as soon as he found them, I plucked them from his hands.
“I don’t think so, Mr. Five Glasses of Wine. I’ll drive myself.”
“I’m coming with you,” he said, swaying in a half circle. “Make sure the little tyke is all right.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, but only because worry ate at me. Was Titus all right? Of course not, Ryan would never get me all riled up if it wasn’t something serious.
“Come on,” I growled at my ex. “And hurry up about it.” Titus needed me.
Ryan
“Ryan, wake up. Ryan, please. I can’t breathe.”
Those last three words yanked me from a particularly dirty dream where Persephone was the starring attraction, and I sat right up, blinking to clear my eyes and focus on my surroundings. It was dark, black except for the glow of the moon on top of the tent. Tent?
“Titus?” I scanned the darkness and blindly reached for my phone to illuminate the inside of the tent. “Titus?”
“Here,” he huffed, his breathing labored.
Fuck. I found my phone and flipped on the flashlight app, scanning the floor of the tent for blood because that was my first concern, that he’d slipped out while I was sleeping and hurt himself. “What’s wrong, buddy?”
“Can’t. Breathe.”
His words sank in, choppy and gasping. When the flashlight landed on him, the boy was pale and his lips were a light blue color. “Shit.”
“Bad. Word.”
“Sorry, kiddo, but shit.” I slid closer to Titus and put a hand on his chest. His heart raced and his skin was cold to the touch. “Okay. Did you hurt yourself or ingest anything?”
He frowned and shrugged.
“Have you eaten anything since we came back from fishing?”
“No.”
“All right. Try to stay calm and I’ll figure this out.” I had to. I couldn’t let anything happen to Titus. Persephone would never forgive me, and worse, I would never, ever forgive myself. I did what I’d seen Persephone do whenever Titus was sick or injured, I patted down his entire body looking for broken bones, sore spots, hell I didn’t really know. Until I did. The bite on the back of his neck was no longer just an ugly red spot, it was the size of a golf ball. “You don’t have any allergies.”
“No,” he wheezed, eyes closed as he focused on slowing down his breathing just like Persephone had taught him.
“All right, we need to get you to the hospital. Now.”
