Another loan taken out against the coffee shop.
A rush of guilt made me cringe. I hated that I was putting Jenna in this position. A Drop of Hope was every bit as much her dream as it was mine. But she’d promised me she was willing to make any sacrifice she had to. Promised she was in this with me. Whatever it took or cost.
The woman pushed out a confused sigh. “Okay, then, but I’m including these pamphlets for you to look over. I’m sure there’s a plan that’s a good fit for your son.”
I reached over the desk and took them from her. “Thank you, I’ll look through them,” I promised, telling another lie, tossing it right on the mounting pile. The shorter the paper trail, the better.
Pushing to my feet, I left her office, feeling shaky all over as I went. Adrenaline dumping from my veins, leaving me drained, the remnants the fear of this day had evoked almost too much to bear.
My emotions precarious. So close to breaking me.
Desperate.
That was what I was.
Desperate for my son to be okay. Desperate for this charade to go away and Dane to leave us be so we could live our lives.
Rounding the corner, I peered into the examination room through the small window in the door, just needing to get a peek at my son.
A buoy to give me the strength to keep fighting. To gain the confidence that he was really okay. The doctor had spent a half hour trying to reassure me that he’d just overexerted himself. That it was typical. That there wasn’t anything to worry about.
Still, Dr. Krane had made an appointment for him to follow up in two weeks to do a thorough workup of his heart to make sure it was functioning fine. Covering all the bases.
My frantic spirit eased when I gazed in, taking in the sight in front of me.
Evan was fully propped up in the hospital bed, his mop of messy red hair flying all around as he laughed.
Laughed because Kale was sitting at the end of his bed, angled with his knee under himself so he could face Evan, scribbling something on the pad one of the nurses had brought in for ease of communication.
My heart clenched.
Painfully.
Beautifully.
Because my son looked so free and content and comfortable with Kale at his side. And Kale was looking at my son the way a child deserved to be looked at.
Protectively.
Adoringly.
And now I knew the source of Kale’s unease. His fear of loving someone and taking the chance that they might be violently, savagely ripped away. The barriers and shields he struggled to maintain to protect himself from that chance.
And he had stayed.
That meant more to me than he could ever know.
Kale met my eye through the small window.
That protective possessiveness extended out to me, searching through its own confusion and uncertainty. The man holding me up with a simple glance.
I’m here.
I blinked, swallowed, no steel left around my heart. Because in that blink. I was right back in that day. The day I’d been left alone . . .
“Mrs. Gentry, has your husband returned?” He looked around the room where I sat alone. Clutching my arms over my chest.
Rocking.
Trying to be strong.
Jenna had just left to get coffee, and my mama was on her way from Texas. Promising she would get there as quickly as she could.
“No.” I swallowed around the ball of agony cinched tight in my throat. Cutting off circulation. Shutting down belief. I didn’t know how much more I could take.
The doctor who’d first given us the news tried to hide his surprise when I told him I was still alone, but it was there. He shook his head in what I knew was supposed to be sympathy. “All right, then.”
He sank to the chair beside me. “We would like to have your blood drawn so we can try to determine the exact genetic defect your son suffers from.”
Jerkily, I nodded, rushing my hands over the chills that lifted on my arms. I was cold. So cold.
“Of course.”
I would do anything.
Give anything.
The doctor paused, as if he were waiting for me to snap. Break. Then he issued almost carefully, “It is important we get your husband’s as well.”
I blinked, trying to stay upright against the force of the walls that spun and spun. “He’s not here,” I said, somehow feeling as if that statement was on repeat.
The words leaving me through the stark numbness that echoed from that hollow place inside.
He hadn’t been there since he’d stormed out the day before when I’d refused to leave.
Refusing food.
Refusing sleep.
“Just as soon as it’s possible is all we ask.”
I nodded again. “I’ll do what I can.”
I couldn’t understand it. How he could leave us there. He’d doted on me through my entire pregnancy. I could never forget the amount of pride on his face and love in his eyes when we’d found out we were having a boy.