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Patrick held a finger to his son’s lips. “Hey, Little Dude. Remember what Mommy told you about being quiet.”
The boy nodded his head in big swipes. “Sorry,” he whisper-yelled.
He ran to Penelope’s side. “Nelope?” The top of his head was barely above the mattress. He peered at my daughter, then gently poked her hand.
“I’m sorry,” Marlow said, as she handed their youngest child to Patrick. “He was so excited when I told him we were coming to see her. I tried to explain he had to be gentle and quiet.” She gave me a helpless look.
“That was a very gentle nudge.” I offered her a kind smile.
The little boy had an unnatural attachment to Penelope. I hoped she could hear him. That his presence would help.
Patrick kissed his daughter’s head, then dumped her into Kane’s mother’s arms. “Mind holding her while I work?”
“Um, no.”
Not that she’d had a choice in the matter.
Marlow rolled her eyes at her husband. Blake stretched out his hands and she lifted him so he could have a better look.
“What’s wrong with Nelope?”
Sometimes he spoke in single words and other times in complete sentences. I was curious to find out why, but wouldn’t dare ask. That seemed insensitive.
“She’s been hurt and she’s sleeping so her body can heal.” Marlow’s voice was rough when she spoke. Like she understood the pain of someone she cared about in critical condition.
“Wake up, Nelope.” The poor kid tried to be quiet, but just couldn’t manage.
Kane’s eyes drifted open. “Is Blake here to help with our caseload?”
He sounded like his throat was parched.
I brought him water, and he thanked me with his eyes.
“He’s also playing doctor,” Patrick said. “He’s been here less than a minute and already has you awake.”
Kane’s gaze drifted to the little boy who continued to gently poke Penelope. Blake seemed aware of where her most serious injuries were, making sure to be careful.
“We can go for a walk.” Marlow set him on his feet.
“Stay.” Kane spoke before anyone else could. “It’s nice to have some energy in the room.”
Blake stretched his hands. “Up.”
“I think I saw some bar-height chairs somewhere,” I said, setting the water pitcher aside. “I’ll ask Nurse Ana.”
Marlow appeared grateful that we weren’t upset by the children. Kane was right. They were a gift to have around.
I excused myself.
Two men stood on either side of the door in the hallway. I hadn’t met Donato Salvatore, but if he was anything like his men, he’d be terrifying.
I hoped to thank him someday for all he’d done.
The elevator doors opened at the end of the corridor. Nancy stepped out, loaded down with bags.
I rushed forward. “Let me help you.” I took three of the bags. “How did you manage all this by yourself?”
She shrugged. “Is he up?”
