by Cherrie Lynn
Just tell me what happened. Did she say something to you? He awaited her response with a cold feeling in his chest, which only spread further as time stretched out. Finally, it came.
She didn’t say anything. Focus on your family right now. They need you. I’m okay.
It was bullshit, he knew it was, but all he could do was accept it.
As he leaned over Dylan’s bed to brush the hair back and kiss his brow, frightened eyes stared up at him. “I love you, buddy. I’ll see you when you wake up. Iris says get well soon, silly baboon.”
Those eyes brightened, and he giggled, and Eli couldn’t give a fuck in that moment what Heidi thought about it. Iris made his kids happy even in their worst moments. She made him happy.
Anyone else could go to hell.
Thirty-eight
It seemed to take an eternity. He wasn’t sure if that was because he knew that just down the hall, Dylan was being cut open, or because he was being forced to share the same air with his ex-wife.
They barely spoke. They took turns pacing. The silence was nearly unbearable, but any words he might dare to pour into it would be far worse.
Finally he sat, elbows on his knees, rubbing his face hard with his hands. He had a headache worse than any hangover he’d ever experienced. What had started out a perfect day had turned into a fucking nightmare.
Seger sat quietly next to him, his young face drawn and worried. His gaming buddy wasn’t here to play with him.
“Mr. and Mrs. Vance?” All at once they moved, Eli shooting to his feet and Heidi spinning on her heel. A young doctor approached in blue scrubs. Eli tried not to focus on the one bright splash of blood low on his shirt. Dylan’s blood. The world tilted on its axis, but he forced herself to remain upright. “I’m Dr. Stanford.”
Fear like he’d never seen before flickered across Heidi’s face. “How is Dylan? Can we see him?”
“He’s stabilized for now. But we do have a complication.”
Eli let out a breath. Heidi’s hand went to her mouth. All enmity aside, Eli put a steadying hand on her back. “Tell us.”
“Dylan lost a lot of blood during surgery. This is rare, but it happens. We were not able to do the laparoscopic procedure we discussed because his appendix had already ruptured. We had to open him up quickly. Because of the loss of blood, he needs a transfusion, but we’re facing a major shortage in our area from the hurricane last month. Our stores are completely depleted of type O blood, and people with type O can only receive from other people with type O. Dylan is O-positive, which means he can receive both O positive and O negative, which helps. Still . . .” He looked between the two of them. “Do either of you know your blood types? Or anyone else in the family who might be a match for Dylan?”
Heidi shook her head, lowering her hand to speak. “I’m B. I remember from when I had Seger.”
The doctor swung his head questioningly to Elijah.
“I’m AB.” He’d needed blood after a compound fracture when he was fifteen, an unfortunate Jackass-worthy skateboarding incident. Somehow the knowledge had stayed buried in the back of his brain.
“Oh? But . . .” The doctor looked back and forth between them. “You are the biological parents, correct?”
Eli tore his gaze away from Dr. Stanford and pinned it to his ex-wife’s pale face, staring her dead in the eyes. He didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Only watched. Waited. Heidi glanced at him, doing a double take. “What?”
“Are we the biological parents, Heidi?” When she would only stare at him, Eli swiveled his head back to the doctor. “Explain it to us. I’m curious. Is it at all possible for her and me to have a type O kid together?”
“B and AB together, one allele comes from each parent and— well, it isn’t possible, except in incredibly rare circumstances that I wouldn’t think apply here. In fact, it shouldn’t be possible for you to have a type O child at all, sir, regardless of the partner. That doesn’t mean the, erm, biological father is a match for Dylan, either, as it’s a recessive gene. It’s a complicated issue. But there’s a chance he could be the O we need . . . if you . . .” He trailed off awkwardly, looking helpless.
Words exploded out of Elijah, so loud he saw how they startled her. “Why the fuck isn’t he here?” Stalking toward her, he put his finger half an inch from her nose, his voice shaking as it tore from his throat like something feral, barely restrained. “You get on the phone,” he said, “and you call that motherfucker. You tell him to get his ass down here and get typed to see if he can give blood to my son. I would open my veins and give Dylan my last drop, Heidi, but I can’t; you took that away from me. So cut the shit, get on the phone right fucking now, and get him here.” Heidi tried to turn away. He caught her chin between his thumb and knuckle, making her look at him. “If he lets anything happen to my son, I swear to Christ that he’ll need blood, and bear in mind that because of the shortage, he might not be able to get it. Do you understand? Nod your head.”
Stricken, tears streaming down her cheeks, Heidi looked at him dumbly as he dropped his hand. But she didn’t argue, didn’t fuss. Only nodded, cheeks burning with mortification while the doctor gaped and looked back toward the nurse’s station, as if wondering if he should call security.
“Then what are you waiting for? Your game is up. I’ll sacrifice being in Dylan’s life if I have to, but I won’t sacrifice his life to keep up this charade. Move, Heidi. Get his father here. Now.”
Not meeting anyone’s eyes, Heidi took her phone from her bag, turning to go down the hallway for privacy to call that asshole. He didn’t think he had ever seen her look so pitiful, bun drooping, face a mess. As she went around the corner, he heard her sobs tear loose. There was some place deep inside that almost felt sorry for her. Almost.
“Well.” The doctor cleared his throat, his eyes darting around nervously. “Mr. Vance, my apologies for—”
“It’s all right,” Eli said flatly. “I already knew. And now I guess everyone else will.”
“Sir, hospital policy and HIPAA laws prevent—”
“Right. Sure they do. I promise you someone is on the phone with TMZ right now.”
“Well,” the doctor said again, taking several steps backward in an apparent dire need to flee. “In case the other party isn’t a match, if there’s anyone else you can think of, it would be helpful to cover all bases. We’re also putting in calls to other hospitals in the area. Please let me know if I can be of any assistance, and we’ll keep monitoring Dylan.”
“Thank you,” he said, giving the man the out he desperately wanted. Then he stood, alone, adrift in some black, endless sea. No stars above. No light, no moon, no shore in sight. Having all this laid bare was like scouring his flesh away.
He didn’t care. Let all the world know his secrets, let them inspect the dry, dusty skeletons in his closet, and he would let them if only Dylan could be okay. All he could think of was that little boy’s smile, his laughter. How full of life he was.
He would be back to that happy kid in no time; this was merely a speed bump. Someone somewhere would have some goddamn O blood. He had no family here, no one he could call except the band, and fuck, who knew if any of those guys were clean enough to donate. If Nic didn’t show, he would kill him.
Aside from the fact that Nic had knowingly fucked Elijah’s wife, the guy had never seemed like a particularly awful human being. But if word got out, if this might taint his reputation just as his star was set to take off . . . would he risk the possibility of a little boy dying to save his career? The public ate up gossip with a spoon, but they generally tended to hate homewreckers and cheaters. This might be a tarnish Steele wouldn’t tolerate.
It was truly times like this when you realized who was in your corner no matter what. Who would drop everything and be there for you. Iris would have, but she’d left too.
“Dad?”
Jesus Christ. He’d practically forgotten about Seger, sitting quietly behind him.
All the turmoil in
him quietened as he looked back at his boy, and he knew Seger wasn’t one for displays of affection, but when he approached and held out his arms, Seger jumped up and dove into them.
“I’m sorry,” Eli said, dropping his face into his son’s dark hair. He didn’t have to drop it very far; Seger would be as tall as he was soon. “I’m sorry you had to hear all that. I’m sorry I lost my temper. I shouldn’t have.”
“Are you— I mean, you aren’t Dylan’s dad? Are you not my dad too?”
Fuck this life. He took Seger’s face in his hands, lifting it so he could see his eyes, eyes so much like his own. “I’m your dad, buddy. No doubts there. But Dylan . . . I didn’t make him, but he’s mine. I love him as much as I love you, and I can’t even put into words how much I love you. Do you understand?”
Seger nodded, looking far older than the mere handful of years he’d walked the earth.
“And your mom loves you. This doesn’t change anything. We’re going to get Dylan fixed up good as new.”
“I won’t ever tell him.”
Eli was quiet for a moment, looking into his son’s face while he considered the ramifications. “I’m not going to put that pressure on you, Seger. It’s not something I want to tell him now or anytime soon, but someday. Still, if he finds out, he finds out. We’ll deal with it. I don’t want you to worry, because this isn’t your problem. Okay?”
Nodding, Seger pressed his head into Eli’s chest again. Cherishing this moment, as there probably wouldn’t be many more of them, Eli tightened his arms around him.
His son had learned his first hard lesson of life: sometimes the people you love weren’t who you thought they were.
When Heidi came back in, her composure was regained. She had even taken a moment to fix her hair—God forbid the paps get a bad shot of her, even at the hospital waiting to learn if her son would live or die. If this had been Los Angeles, she probably wouldn’t have dared let herself shed a tear.
She drew a deep breath as she reached him, not meeting his eyes. She didn’t look at her elder son. Probably too ashamed. “He’s coming. He’d checked in at a hotel for us, but he already knows he’s O and he’s on his way. He really does care about Dylan.”
He wanted to aim more words at her like daggers, but consideration for Seger stopped him. Pulling his wallet from his back pocket, he handed Seger a few bills. “Why don’t you run get something from the vending machine, Seeg, okay?” The boy acted like he was all too eager to be gone. As soon as he disappeared, Eli narrowed his eyes at Heidi.
“I don’t need to listen to how much Nic cares about Dylan. When has he ever had shit to do with him? And now all this has been put on Seger’s shoulders too. Goddammit, Heidi.” He laced his fingers behind his head, trying to get a grip as everything came roaring to the surface again. Seeing her face seemed to have that effect.
“I don’t want Dylan to be hurt,” she said, an edge of desperation entering her voice. “The last thing I want is for him to know. Please tell Seger—”
He dropped his arms, stunned at her gall. “I’m not telling Seger anything. Maybe you should have thought about this before you fucked around and got knocked up by someone else when we were still married. Maybe you should have thought about the consequences should something like this ever happen and Dylan has to find out. The way people will talk. He didn’t ask for any of this. He’s only a little boy. You never think about how your actions affect anyone as long as you’re getting what you fucking want. And hell! What you want changes from minute to minute so—”
“That isn’t true, Elijah, don’t—”
“It is true. We already know it’s fucking true. Now everyone will. So, you know, thanks for that. Thanks for making a joke out of us all.”
Heidi’s eyes flashed angrily. “As if you haven’t already done that plenty of times, Eli. Like now. How long have you been fucking my nanny?”
No. Fuck knows, he wasn’t perfect, but she was done turning everything back around on him. Iris had been right all along. “Good luck convincing people of it. Most of the shit will stick to you now. Just remember that. Blowback is a thing.” He drew a breath, his tattered, ragged emotion stitching itself back together as he spoke. “I’m done talking to you. Done fighting with you. It’s all over. It ends now. Play your cards. I fucking dare you. But right now, you’re going to tell me what you said to Iris.”
“Nothing she didn’t deserve. She’s going home, where she belongs.”
“That’s fine, but don’t think you’ve won. You’re done dictating other people’s lives, mine in particular.”
“Eli—”
He turned away. “Don’t talk to me right now. I’m going to find out when I can see our son.”
HER FLIGHT DIDN’T LEAVE until six a.m. Iris thought she’d grab some sleep at the airport, but it wasn’t happening. She boarded in a haze, thinking she’d grab some sleep on the plane. That wasn’t happening either. At thirty-six thousand feet, she sat staring out the window at the new morning, a blanket of cotton-like clouds beneath her. She thought of the flight she’d ditched to spend those heavenly days in Elijah’s arms. The way he’d picked her up and run out of the airport with her. Even now, the memory brought a smile to her face.
If she had it to do over again . . . yes, she would make the same decision.
But as much as she longed to be back there again, she should lock those memories away in some cherished corner of her heart and move on. That would be best for everyone.
In romantic movies, this was always the scene where some sappy love song played as the fleeing heroine reminisced on everything she was leaving behind. But right now, all she could hear ringing in her head was heavy metal, and the voice signing it was his. The music Eli made had managed to infiltrate her soul after hearing it night after night. She got it now. He poured all his pain into it, and it wasn’t pretty. It was ugly and brutal and pissed off. Iris was sure once her sadness wore off, she would feel the same way.
She had a layover in Atlanta. Once they were on the ground, Iris pulled her cell phone from her bag as soon as the captain gave the okay to use them. There was a voicemail waiting for her from Elijah. It had only been left an hour ago.
The reasonable thing to do would be to wait, because she wasn’t sure she could do this now. Nevertheless, she hit the button and brought the phone to her ear as other passengers were standing to disembark.
“Iris.” God, he sounded tired. He’d probably been up all night like her. “I don’t know what happened, because no one will tell me shit. I don’t know what Heidi said to you, but whatever it was, you shouldn’t listen. You ought to know that by now. Dylan . . . he’s going to be okay, so don’t worry, but he needed blood the hospital didn’t have, and I couldn’t give it to him. My boy, lying in there suffering, and I couldn’t help him. Fucking Nic had to come save him. The whole goddamn hospital probably heard Heidi and me fighting about it, so I’m sure the whole world will know soon. I’m going to do my best to keep your name out of it. But I’m just . . .” His voice cracked, and Iris’s heart along with it. She could imagine him, how he got when he was agitated, all restless and fidgety. “I don’t know. I’m fucked up. And I need you. All of this would be more bearable if you were here. Wherever you are, let me know you’re safe. As soon as Dylan can travel, we’re bringing him home. I hope I’ll see you then.” There was a long, aching silence. She waited for the click of the disconnection, but it didn’t come. Closing her streaming eyes, she held her breath and waited. If he said— “Call me back.” And then he was gone.
She dropped her hand to her lap, the phone still gripped in her icy fingers. An older lady standing beside her aisle peered worriedly at her. “Honey, are you all right?”
“I will be,” she said softly, managing a quick smile for her. Maybe someday she would be all right. But not anytime soon.
Iris shouldered her bag strap; she didn’t even have a carry-on, only the clothes on her back. Eli had needed her, and she’d let Heidi chase her
away. She wasn’t sure what kind of blood Dylan had needed, but she was an O-negative, a universal donor who gave often. She could have helped him, and she’d let herself be robbed of the chance.
At least Nic had come through, but she couldn’t imagine what it had done to Eli to have to ask. To admit the one bitter truth he wanted to keep from the world. God, how she wanted to talk to him, reassure him that his fans would stand behind him no matter what, but he needed to focus on his kids right now. And she needed to lie incredibly low.
It wouldn’t be hard. She’d never felt so low in her life. It was saying something.
Thirty-nine
The moment Elijah had come face-to-face with Nic Steele, every instinct inside him had cried out to clock the motherfucker. But he couldn’t very well do that, not when Nic might have very well saved Dylan’s life tonight.
At least Nic’s cocky smirk had been nowhere in sight. The guilt he’d never seemed to exhibit looked heavy on his shoulders now, his handsome movie star face drawn and grim beneath the bill of his identity-hiding black cap. The two of them had made every effort to avoid meeting each other’s eyes.
Until Heidi left to get coffee while they waited for Dylan to be moved to recovery. Seger went with her.
Eli stretched his tired, aching legs out in front of him and said, “I want you to give Dylan to me, Nic.”
“What?”
“You heard me. It’s a fact we can’t ignore or hide from anymore. I can’t be Dylan’s father. Thing is, I am Dylan’s father, and you’ve apparently always been fine with that arrangement. I daresay you’ll continue to be fine with it. So we should make it legal. Terminate your rights.”
Nic’s jaw worked soundlessly for a moment. He looked helplessly in the direction Heidi had gone.
“What does she have to do with this?” Eli asked, following his gaze. “This is between you and me. You can do the right thing here, you don’t need her approval.”
