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“They take Aleksey from me?”
“Are you a good mother?”
“I try.”
“Then I don’t think they will. But you have to let them help you. Can you do that for me?”
“Yes. For guardian, I do.”
Nick felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked behind him. A nurse he didn’t recognize smiled at him, motioning that she needed to get by. He stepped aside. “Okay, Edyta. Mr. Bell needs his rest, just like you and Aleksey. Let’s get you back to your room, okay?”
The woman rose slowly, but not before she leaned forward and kissed the back of Dad’s hand. The nurse put an arm on her shoulders and led her from the room. The woman’s face was tear-streaked, but her eyes were bright, and she cooed down at her baby. She didn’t see Nick at all.
He watched as they walked down the hall before they rounded a corner.
He turned back to the room.
His dad was watching him, a small smile on his face. He looked tired.
“Got yourself a fan,” Nick said quietly as he walked into the room, sitting in the chair by the bed. “Seems like she has stars in her eyes.”
Dad snorted. “She’s had it rough. Not used to being treated like a person. Hopefully that changes.”
“How’s your brain?”
“Mostly intact. Maybe only a little scrambled.”
Nick nodded and looked away. He blinked rapidly.
“Hey, hey. Kid, come on. Nicky. Look at me.”
Nick couldn’t. At least not until he heard Dad trying to lift himself up out of the bed. He stood quickly, the chair scraping the floor behind him. Dad was grimacing, a trickle of sweat on his forehead. Nick scowled at him, carefully pressing on his shoulders. “Don’t make me call the nurse in here. And I’ll tell Cap when he gets back.”
Dad glared at him. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me.”
Once he was sure Dad wasn’t going to try and get up again, Nick started to turn back toward the chair. He was stopped by fingers circling his wrist and holding on tightly. His gaze followed the hand to a bandaged arm up to his father’s face. Dad was frowning. “I’m going to be all right, kid.”
Nick gave a little shrug. He didn’t know how to put into words how relieved that made him, or how scared he’d been, and still was.
“We need to talk, Nicky. About some of the stuff you said. About some of the things I said.”
“You’re not supposed to be talking at all,” Nick said hoarsely. “Remember?”
“I know. Just… let me get this out, and then I promise I’ll shut up.”
“Unlikely.”
“Nick.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Dad squeezed his wrist. “I said some things I shouldn’t have. Things I can’t take back, but wish I could more than anything. You didn’t deserve that. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I know I’m—”
“No, it’s not okay.” He started coughing. Nick was alarmed until Dad motioned to a cup with a straw sitting on a small table next to the bed. Nick grabbed it, and Dad sucked down the water. He coughed twice more before subsiding. “Shit, that hurt.”
