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“Tell you what. I’ll get you a room at the Carlton. Not just for you but for Callie, your mom, everyone. You can stay here in the city, close to the hospital. I’ll go to your house and pack you a bag if you want. I’ll take care of your dog. I’ll do whatever you need.”
She cries then. Softly into my shoulder. “I didn’t think I had any tears left today.”
I kiss the top of her head. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay, Brock. I cried buckets today over a baby that never existed. And now… Now, my father.Thisis real.Thisexists. And I wish it didn’t.”
“He’s a strong man. There’s no reason to believe he won’t come out of this.”
“That’s just it. He’s strong. In great physical shape. He eats right, and he gets lots of exercise. He hardly ever drinks. How did this even happen?”
“I don’t know, sweetheart. Life just doesn’t make sense sometimes.”
“Oh, Brock… I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For… I don’t know. You’re going through so much right now.”
“Hey. My father is healthy. He’s not in the hospital. It’s okay to think about your own problems, Rory. It’s okay.”
“I don’t want to be selfish. I feel like I’ve already been so selfish.”
“You’re not being selfish. Cry if you need to. Yell if you need to. I’ll take you outside, and you can yell at the universe if you want to. Whatever you need, Rory. I mean it.”
She sighs, choking back a sob. “I just need you, Brock. I just need you.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
RORY
My tears dry out quickly, and I feel terrible. Terrible that I cried over a nonexistent child and now I don’t have any tears left for my father.
My father, who gets me in a way my mother doesn’t. My father, who truly doesn’t care whether my life mate is a man or a woman.
My father, who taught me how to be strong.
My father, who taught me it’s okay to change directions when things aren’t going as planned.
My father… My rock…
He’ll be okay. He has to be.
I have to concentrate. Pray. Send healing vibes. Stay positive.
Which means I can’t think about the fact that I saw Pat Lamone with Brock when Callie and I came back out here.
I don’t want to ask about it. I want to shove it into a compartment and forget about it until my father is out of the woods.
But I can’t.
“Brock?” I choke out.
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
“What was Pat Lamone doing here?”
“Shit. I was hoping you hadn’t seen him.”
