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Peter finished his breathing treatment and lay back against the pillows. He looked so small. Jake tucked Mr. Bear and Peter's worn blanket up next to him. Larissa leaned down and kissed him.
"Mama? Can we say our poem?"
"We sure can, baby."
Quietly she started Frost's poem and Jake and Peter joined in. By the time they'd gotten to the last line, Peter's eyes drifted close.
Larissa turned to Jake. "I feel so helpless."
"Me too."
She felt like crying. When she'd made her decision not to tell Jake about Peter, she'd only had Reilly Peyton as an example—a man who'd never wanted to be a father. But from the first moment Jake had known about Peter, he'd proved that fatherhood was a natural part of him.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Jake asked.
She didn't want to let him know how desperately she was coming to need him. "Like what?"
He shrugged and looked uncomfortable. "I'm not sure."
She slid off the bed and sat on his lap. Wrapping her arms around him, she held him tightly to her. God, she didn't think she'd survive if he left her.
"Thank you," she said against his lips.
"For what?" he asked, running his hands down her back and hugging her to him.
He smelled good. His cologne was spicy and woodsy, a direct contrast to the sterile scent of the hospital. "For being here. I'm so glad I didn't have to deal with this on my own."
He looked at her. His brown eyes were serious and she remembered all the promises he'd made her. Promises that she'd been afraid to believe. "That's my job now."
"Are you sure?" she asked, still afraid to accept his words.
He squeezed her tight and then tucked her head under his chin. "Hell, yes. I'm not letting either of you out of my sight."
"Oh, Jake."
Jake kissed her with a passion that she sensed concealed hidden depths. She clung to him. For the first time in her life she really needed someone by her side and it scared her. Almost as much as her fear of being left alone. She watched Peter sleeping. Each exhalation wheezed a little.
Someone cleared their throat and she glanced up to see Harold Danforth in the doorway. Jake's dad was dressed in chinos and a button-down shirt. He looked tired and tense but his face filled with love when he glanced at his sleeping grandson.
"No need to ask how things are in here," Harold said.
Jake stiffened under her. Larissa got to her feet and walked over to the hospital bed to check Peter. She rested her hand lightly on his chest to feel each breath he took. "You know me, Dad. Can't keep my hands off a pretty girl."
"I do know you, son," Harold said. There was a pride in his eyes that Larissa realized Jake didn't see.
"Your mom and I wanted to check on Peter before we went home for the night."
"He's sleeping," Jake said.
"I'll go get your mother," Harold said.
Jake cursed under his breath and pushed to his feet, joining Larissa by Peter's side. Jake settled his hand over hers on their son's chest. "God, I hope he beats this thing."
"Dr. Gold said there's a chance he could outgrow the asthma."
Jake said nothing, but Larissa felt some of her anxiety wane. She knew that with Jake by her side there was nothing they couldn't handle.
"What's up with you and your dad?"
"Nothing," Jake said, pacing across the room.
"Jake?" She turned to face him, but he wasn't paying the least bit of attention to her.
"Leave it be, Rissa."
She crossed the room to Jake and wrapped her arms around him.
"Talk to me," she said at last. She'd been so caught up in her own feelings of inadequacy that she hadn't noticed the tension between Jake and his father before.
"I don't want to get into that. You've got enough on your mind with Peter."
She tilted her head back and met his eyes. "Peter's resting now. Tell me about your dad."
"It's nothing," he said, moving away. It seemed he couldn't stand still. "I've never been able to please the old man."
She stopped his pacing with a hand on his arm. "I don't get that from him. He seems really proud of you." That was the truth. Harold had taken her aside earlier and told her when the chips were down there was no better man to have by her side than Jake.
"Yeah, right. What dad wouldn't be proud of a son who can't keep his hands off his wife while his grandson struggles to breathe?"
"I'm sure your dad understands that we need each other now."
Jake shrugged.
Larissa wasn't sure what else to say. She thought Harold was probably relieved that their marriage wasn't just for the media, but she didn't want to open that topic of conversation. "It wasn't like that. And I think your dad knows it. You should talk to him."
