I continued to break every traffic law known to man as I merged onto the highway. “Are you coming or not?”
“Don’t do this, Charlotte,” he said in a low, fatherly warning. “Go home.”
“Not until I see him. I’ll know if it’s Lucas.”
His voice grew louder. “Do not go up to that hospital.”
“I’ve got to go, Tom.”
“Charlotte!” he shouted, but I ended the call.
Tossing my phone to the seat beside me, I focused on the road. It rang repeatedly during the rest of my drive to the hospital.
With my heart in my throat, I scrambled out of my car and sprinted toward the doors. My stomach was in knots, but I never slowed as I hurried deeper into the hospital, scanning my badge when necessary to get to restricted areas. Nurses spoke as I weaved my way through the hallways, my shoes squeaking against the tile floor with every turn. Excitement and anticipation fueled me forward, my mind reeling with possibilities.
All of them positive.
And all of them ending with me finally waking up from this nightmare.
But, as I snatched the curtain in pre-op open, I realized that the nightmare was only getting started.
Three pairs of eyes swung my way.
All of them blue.
Two of them matched.
None of them were Lucas’s.
I gasped and slapped a hand over my mouth as ten years of pain, hopes, and heartbreak collided, melded together, and then joined forces in a mission to finish me once and for all.
The child’s mother rose to her feet, her face filled with concern.
I couldn’t begin to imagine what I looked like on the outside, because on the inside, I was a virtual wasteland of despair.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
My glassy eyes flicked to her, my hands shaking and my knees buckling.
One word.
“No.”
* * *
“How are you doing, baby?” my mom asked through the phone.
I rocked back in my office chair and propped my feet up on my desk. “It’s been a crazy night. Raul called out, two of the waitresses got into a spat over tips, and we ran out of parsnips.”
“Well, all of that sucks, but I asked how you were doing, not the restaurant.”
How was I doing?
I was functioning. Nothing more. Nothing less.
I smiled on cue, worked more than I would have liked, and obsessed about Charlotte Mills more than I would ever admit.
The minute after I’d gotten home from her office, I’d Googled her.
I’d convinced myself it wasn’t a betrayal after she’d told me about Lucas, but as I’d pored over articles and stared at old photos of her hollow eyes leaving the police station, it had still felt like an invasion of her privacy.
God knew there were dozens of articles about Catherine’s “accident,” pictures and even videos of me dragging Travis out of the water. I’d have given anything to erase those from the history books, and as I’d shut my computer down that night, I figured Charlotte would probably feel the same way.
I had typed out a million texts to her over the two weeks since I’d seen her—some of them funny, some of them sad, all of them desperate. My conscience hadn’t allowed me to send any of them. I refused to be the man who caused her more pain.
And bringing her into my life and then parading Travis and Hannah in front of her would have done just that.
Rita had been right; Charlotte had been through enough.
“I’m fine,” I assured. “Tired but fine. Hopefully, I’ll be out of here in the next half hour, so you don’t have to spend the night if you’d rather wait up until I get there.”
“Are you crazy? It’s eleven o’clock and raining, Porter. Your father’s head would explode if I drove home tonight.”
I chuckled. “This is true.”
“But,” she drawled. “Since I’m stuck here anyway, why don’t you go out with Tanner tonight? Maybe hit a disco or something.”
“Uh…because I’m thirty-four and it hasn’t been called a disco since I was, like, negative ten.”
“Oh, hush. Thirty-four is young, honey. Oh, I know! What about that lady you went out with a few weeks ago? Call her and see if she wants to go dancing. Women love to dance.”
“Mom, stop. I’m tired. I have beyond no desire to go out dancing tonight. Or any other night, for that matter. So please, leave it alone.”
“Okay, okay. Jeesh. I was only trying to be helpful. You spend all of your time either working or taking care of the kids. You know it’s not a crime for you to have a life, Porter.”
I groaned. “That’s my job, Mom. To work hard so I can afford to take care of the kids and then come home and actually do it.”
“You deserve to have some free time in there.”
“You’re right. I do. But that free time isn’t going to be spent going out dancing. It’s gonna be spent catching up on much-needed sleep or hitting the grocery store without Hannah begging for the entire cookie aisle.”
She sighed. “You know, this might be the only time in your entire life that I’ll say this, but it wouldn’t kill you to be a little more like Tanner.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose and dropped my head against the back of the chair. “Well, if it’s that important to you, I’ll take my shirt off while I’m cooking the kids breakfast in the morning.”
She laughed. “Don’t do that. You’ll end up with third-degree burns.”
I smiled. “Okay. Now, are we done with that?”
“Yeah, I’m done.”
“Good. Are the kids asleep?”
“Hannah is, but Trav is sitting here staring at me. I think he wants to talk to you.”
“Put him on,” I said, sliding my desk drawer open and peering inside as I’d done so many times recently.
Truth was, I would have loved to have a night out, but I would have wanted it to be with Charlotte. Hell, I would have taken her out dancing if that was all I got. Though I could almost picture her horrified expression at the idea of going into a nightclub.
I was chuckling at the thought when his voice came across the line.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Hey, bud. Why are you still awake?”
He sucked in a deep breath that sounded like music to my ears. He’d been doing marginally better. Breathing treatments were still a way of life, but he hadn’t been back to the hospital, so I chalked it up as progress.
“I’ve got Minecraft-itis,” he said.
I smiled. “That sounds serious.”
“It is. And the current treatment plan isn’t working. I think it’s time to take more aggressive measures and talk to Grandma about giving me back my iPad.”
I laughed. “Bud, it’s eleven and you have school tomorrow.”
His voice remained serious. “No. I have a tutor coming over tomorrow morning. Then I have to spend four hours doing school work. And, by then, I might have wasted away from the effects of this terrible disease. I think we can both agree no one wants that.”
My lips lifted in a genuine smile only my boy could give me. “I love you, Travis.”
“Is that a yes?” he asked, his voice filled with hope.
“No. Go to bed. I hear Minecraft-itis goes into remission when you sleep. Give it a try and I’ll check on you when I get home to make sure your hands haven’t turned into pickaxes and your body into diamond armor.”
He groaned. “You suck.”
“I so, completely do. And you’re welcome. Now, go to bed.”
I could almost hear him rolling his eyes.
“Fine.” He paused. “I love you, Dad.”
My heart twisted and grew all at the same time. “I love you too, Trav. More than you will ever know.”
My mom came back on the line. “Okay, baby. I’m going to hit the hay now. You be careful driving home.”
“I will, and I’ll be quiet when I come in. Thanks, Mom.”
“No problem. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
I hung up and reached into the open drawer to pull out that crumbled-up cocktail napkin map.
Yeah. I’d kept it.