Chapter Twenty-Two
Lucas worked his eyes open a short time later, and rasping, “Mama?”
Andrew gasped in relief.
“I’m here, sweetie.” Kandace knelt next to Lucas.
Andrew wanted the right to offer his comfort.
“I’m sorry.” Tears rolled down Lucas’s cheeks.
Kandace brushed them away. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I did. I’m messed up and evil, and if I can’t stop, I don’t deserve to live.”
Andrew clenched his fist so hard, his nails dug into his palms, but he couldn’t stop.
“That’s not true.” Kandace stroked Lucas’s cheek. “None of that is true.”
Andrew couldn’t do this. He crouched on the other side of the bed and took Lucas’s hand. So tiny and bony. Kandace grimaced, and Lucas frowned.
“I know sometimes I embarrass you,” Andrew said, “and sometimes you don’t like me very much. That’s okay.” It wasn’t, but this wasn’t the time for that conversation. “Everything you are is okay. You can like what you want and who you want. That’s not anyone else’s business. You’re an amazing, brilliant person. There’s not evil anywhere in you.”
Lucas’s scowl deepened. “How would you know?”
“I’m a good judge of character, regardless of what that character is.”
Lucas started crying again. What did Andrew say wrong?
“Mama?” His teary cry tore Andrew apart. “I don’t want to go back to therapy. Don’t make me, please?”
“Never. I promise.” Kandace carefully helped Lucas sit and pulled him into a hug.
The next little while passed in a blur of more tests, more conversations with the doctor, and explaining to Lucas he couldn’t eat until they were sure his stomach could handle it. He had to start with ice chips and work his way up.
It was close to one in the morning, when the doctor declared Lucas stable and moved him to a regular room. Lucas drifted off to sleep within moments of being settled. But this time it was a peaceful sleep, without the help of a respirator or oxygen. Only two lines ran to him now. One from the monitor on his finger, and his IV.
A lot of the stress had vanished from Kandace’s face, leaving exhaustion room to sink in. There was a reclining chair near the bed. She settled into that but didn’t kick back. She looked at Andrew. “We’ll talk after he’s discharged. I promise. Whatever the two of you want—you and him—you can have.”
“All three of us decide.” The pressures of the day gnawed at his edges.
“Go back to the house and get a couple of hours of sleep. Shower. All that,” Kandace said.
“I can’t.”
“I’m staying here. All the finest accommodations.” She gestured at the chair. “Lucas’s okay. You’ll probably be back before he wakes up. You were here when it mattered, and you will be again. Besides”—she nodded at Susan, who snoozed in a plastic seat against the wall—“you’re not the only one who needs to rest and clean up.”
“I’ll call her a cab.”
“Go home, Andrew. For a little while. There’s nothing else you can do here.”
He looked between Susan and Lucas. “All right. But we’ll be back in the morning. I’ll bring breakfast.”
“Sounds great.” Kandace gave him a tired smile.
* * * *
Susan had struggled to stay awake as the night wore on, but now that they were back at Kandace’s house, adrenaline mingled with weariness. The tree in the living room was lit up, and dozens of muddy tracks from the day’s bedlam marred the light carpet.