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Drake, as sick as he was, only seemed to have eyes for Jameson. He locked in on our son and kept opening his mouth as if he wanted to tell him something, but in typical Drake fashion, the words never came. But they didn’t have to. Jameson wriggled out of Izzy’s arms and came flying at Drake. He wrapped his arms around Drake’s leg, as if he knew Drake was someone more to him than the cool guy who was in movies. “Do you want my teddy bear?” Jameson asked him.
Tears streamed down my face watching the scene before me. To me, it was the first real moment between father and son.
Drake looked down at Jameson, and then his eyes drifted up to meet mine. It was as if he were silently asking me what to do. I didn’t have the answer for him this time. He’d made his choice. Or so I thought. I watched in awe as Drake tenderly brushed his hand over Jameson’s curly locks, touching them as if he wanted to memorize every strand of his hair. “I could use a good teddy bear.”
Jameson tipped his head up and grinned. “I’ll be right back.” He raced out of the room.
Meanwhile, I was blubbering. I really hoped Drake didn’t think he was dying and that this was his deathbed way of trying to fix everything before he met his maker.
Izzy even wiped a tear off her cheek. I prayed she hadn’t poisoned him.
It was slow going, getting Drake in a shirt and then down the stairs. Poor man was dry heaving all while writhing in pain. The only reprieve he had was when Jameson handed him his bear on our way out the door. It worked its magic for a small moment. At least long enough for Drake to say thank you.
I’d never seen a grown man clutch a teddy bear as tightly as Drake did, while he moaned in the passenger seat as I drove like Mario Andretti to the small hospital in town. I was more than grateful it wasn’t snowing tonight. At least not yet.
“Do you think it was something you ate?” Please let him say no. I punched the accelerator on the two-lane road leading to town.
“I don’t think so.” He gripped Mr. TJ, as Jameson liked to call his fluffy brown bear.
That was a relief. We didn’t have time for Izzy to go to jail.
“I know this probably isn’t the best time to bring this up, but you know this means people are going to find out you’re in town, and that we obviously know each other. Which means . . .”
“I know, Charlotte,” he breathed out laboriously.
“You’ll hurt Jameson if he finds out who you are and that you don’t want him,” I choked out.
Drake rested his head on the cool glass of the passenger window. “I never said I didn’t want him.”
“But you’re leaving, and earlier—”
“Arghhhh,” he let out a gut-wrenching sound. “Do you think we could discuss this later?”
“Yes. Sorry.” I reached over and placed my hand on his thigh.
He placed a clammy hand on top of mine. “I’m the sorry one, Charlotte.”
I just prayed this night didn’t cause a need for more apologies, because I had a feeling I was about to be exposed.
Chapter Fifteen
“I think the nurses are fighting over who gets to take your vitals.” I grinned over the clipboard filled with Drake’s paperwork that I’d been working on. I knew most everything, right down to his social security number. He was so lucky I was a stand-up kind of gal.
Due to Drake’s celebrity status, we were already in a private room in the ER. Not that he would be seen before the other waiting patients, but he had caused quite the stir in the waiting room when we’d walked in, so the attendant brought us back right away. The gawking, whispers, and phones snapping pictures from the few people in the waiting area was ridiculous. The man was obviously very ill. My guess was those pictures had been texted out already. My secret was on the verge of collapsing.
“I don’t care who the hell does it,” he gritted is teeth, gripping the sheet on the hospital bed. “I just need them to tell me what’s wrong with me.”
“I have a list,” I teased, trying to lighten the moment.
He gave me a strained smile. “We can discuss that later, too.”
“Sounds like fun,” I quipped.
He moaned in pain again.
I set the paperwork aside, scooted my chair closer, and took his hand. I held it tightly between my own. I even found myself kissing his hand. My lips on his skin felt too right. “I’m here,” I whispered, like that would help somehow.
He gently swiped my bangs with his free hand. “Charlotte, in case something happens to me, contact Quinn.” Quinn was his personal attorney.
