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Dr. Grantham patted Judy on the back and gave her a gentle smile before he left. The older woman wilted like a daisy in a drought and sank onto the vinyl armchair, tears rolling down her cheeks as she clutched her stomach.
“I thought I’d lost him. I’d just found him, found love, and it could have been gone before we’d even got started.” Her slim shoulders shook, and Brennan didn’t know how to comfort her, so he sat beside her and rubbed her back.
“But it’s okay, now. Grandfather will get stronger, and we’ll make sure he takes his medicine. He’s got you to watch over him now, and I’m banking on the fact you’ll make him eat right and exercise. He’ll be up and around in no time.”
She nodded but didn’t stop crying.
Judy had been scared silly. Not because she thought she stood to lose a fortune. But because she thought she might lose the love of her life.
This wasn’t about money or social position. This was about love, pure and not so simple.
Love.
He’d always fought against that particular emotion, but he didn’t always win the match. He loved his grandfather and could hardly stand the thought of being without him. When Malcolm had first had the heart attack in late spring, Brennan had felt frozen—scared stiff—to such a degree that he avoided the hospital, pretending it hadn’t happened. But now, he knew he couldn’t run from his grandfather’s delicate health, couldn’t pretend Malcolm Henry, Jr., the strong, powerful tycoon, was made of steel and would never change.
Because he wasn’t. And he had.
Life didn’t seem to care what Brennan wanted. It kept chugging forward, throwing surprise curves and blinding tunnels his way.
Mary Paige.
Her image popped into his mind—blond hair swishing, brown eyes snapping as she belly-laughed while watchingAmerica’s Funniest Home Videosreruns on his couch. Her giggles had made him laugh and then they’d looked into each other’s eyes, and he’d felt that zing, that little zap that said, “You belong with her.”
And he’d believed she was his destination.
Until he’d caught her in Asher’s arms, and doubt had poured over him coating him like hot wax.
Was it wrong to think so poorly of her? His past experiences colored him, made him doubt her intent from the very beginning. This he knew, but he didn’t want to hurt again, especially not from her falling into his cousin’s arms. He’d already danced that dance and knew how it left him—alone and embarrassed. And, deep down in the recesses of his heart, hurting like hell.
“You okay?” Judy patted his thigh. “You look pale. Should I get you a soda?”
He shook his head, impressed that Judy, whose face was blotchy and swollen, was concerned about him. “No, I’m fine. Relieved.”
The doors Dr. Grantham had disappeared through parted and a large nurse with a wide grin came through. “Well, I’m guessing you’re here for Mr. Henry. He’s in recovery, awake, asking for his Judy. And someone he called a knothead.”
An almost hysterical bark of laughter burst through Judy’s lips.
The nurse looked at him. “I’m assuming you’re the knothead? Unless your name is Judy?”
He raised his hand. “Knothead.”
Judy raised hers. “Not the knothead.”
The nurse smiled again, and they followed her into recovery, where his grandfather lay, hooked to beeping machines and an IV. Brennan’s heart stopped when he saw how sick his grandfather looked. Near death.
“Judy,” Malcolm breathed, lifting his hand slightly.
“No, no,” she said, pressing his hand down with hers as she cupped his jaw. “I’m here, darling. You’re okay.”
His grandfather’s eyes searched over her shoulder and landed on him. “Bren.”
Brennan felt the tears in the back of his throat choke him. His knees shook and he thought he might pass out. Instead, the tears escaped along with a sob.
“Oh,” Judy said, reaching for his hand, drawing him near to her and his grandfather.
Brennan allowed himself to be pulled next to the bed, trying like hell not to cry like a damn idiot, but failing. He clutched his own chest because it felt as if it might break apart.
“Bren,” his grandfather said again, reaching for his and Judy’s hands twined together. “Don’t, son. Don’t.”
