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“Oh, Stevie!” she cried, kissing his face.
He was barely awake and attached to a heart monitor, an IV, and a few other wires tangled up from the wall. “Patricia? Pattie, sweetheart, I’m sorry.”
“None of that now,” she said, gingerly sitting next to his hip on the bed, resting her hand on his.
Fitz patted his father’s shoulder. “You look good, Dad. Real good.”
“I feel terrible,” he croaked.
“Well, the doctor did basically saw you in half.”
He managed a smile, and Shelley stepped up, kissing his cheek. Tommy was on her heels. “You had us all nervous for a second there, Steve.”
Shelley stood quietly, her hands folded around her belly, and her dad lifted a finger. “Shell’s stunned into silence. For the first time ever, I think.”
“You had a heart attack, Dad!” She was promptly shushed by her mother and husband, and she lowered her voice to a whisper, her lip quivering. “You could have died.”
“But I didn’t.”
“No, you didn’t.” Pattie smiled. “Thank God. Chris—” she directed a water-logged smile at the man in question “—I’m so glad you were there to help.”
He stepped up to the bed. “You guys are there for me all the time. I’m only reciprocating. It’s nice to see you with some color in your cheeks, Steve. You look a hell of a lot better than you did this morning.”
“I guess I have you to thank for that.” He reached for Chris’s hand and shook it. “Thank you.” He then turned to Bronte, grinning as wide as he could on all the medication. “Beanie Baby, don’t cry.”
She wiped her cheeks and wrapped her arms around her father’s neck, but he coughed.
“Not too tight, Bean.”
“I love you, Daddy,” she said, pulling away.
He took in his family, a sleepy smile on his face. “Now, what’re you all doing here? Isn’t it time for brunch? Someone run and get me pancakes.”
Pattie snorted. “I think it’s going to be a long time before you get any of those.”
He grumbled but settled farther into his pillow.
Fitz patted the foot of the bed. “I’m going to go get some things for you, clothes and toiletries.”
“When you come back, bring my grandkids,” he said.
Fitz and Shelley agreed before leaving. Bronte followed behind Chris, but Steven called out to him. “Hey, Chris, come here.”
Bronte waited and watched as he bent over so her dad could speak quietly to him. Chris, in turn, patted his arm. After a moment of more muffled conversation, Chris rested a hand on her dad’s shoulder. “Take care of yourself.”
Outside the door, Bronte raised her eyebrows. “What did he say?”
“Nothing important. You want a ride home?”
She could tell he was lying but was too exhausted to argue. “If you don’t mind.”
He gestured for Bronte to lead the way.
