First Surrender (Chance Encounters #3)

Chapter Eight

Natalie

58 minutes later, Dec and the big oaf accompanying him come strolling into my hospital room. He waited until two minutes before his hour was up on purpose just to goad me. I know it.

“Look, Natalie, I got a GI Joe with my kid’s meal.” Of course, he did. The GI Joe look-alike smirks smugly from the doorway while Dec shows me his new toy excitedly.

All I want to do is squeeze him, my sweet baby brother. He doesn’t even realize how brave he’s been tonight. I hated the idea of leaving his side and I hate to admit that the sheriff did help me out. I don’t know what I would have done with Dec if I had to leave him with someone else. I have no one.

“Thank you,” I whisper over Dec’s head, but I’m not mature enough to look him in the eye.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” He asks just as immaturely. “I was almost blown up by a bomb a few months back, my hearing is a little messed up.” He cups his ear in an exaggerated fashion to irk me.

“I’m not saying it again, forget it.” I ignore the comment about the bomb. I didn’t know that he had been there. Our apartment is only a block from where the blast went off. It scared us but luckily we were far enough away from the damage.

“What did the doctor say?” He plops a brown bag with grease stains on my bedside tray. I ignore it.

“He wants me to stay overnight to be monitored and do a breathing treatment. If my lungs look okay tomorrow morning then they’ll discharge me.” I look at Dec as I say it so he knows that I won’t be here forever.

“You got lucky,” Sheriff Small Dick mumbles to me, not drawing attention to himself as Dec plays with his toy on the window sill.

“Really? I feel unlucky as hell, but thanks.” I fold my arms over my chest like a child.

“You’re welcome,” he responds with fake niceness. Ugh, he is infuriating.

“You can leave.”

“What about Dec?”

“What about him?”

“He can’t stay here.” He ambles around the small open space in my room, not caring to look me in the eyes as he speaks.

“Why not?”

“Because he’s a kid. It’s a hospital.”

“Obviously, but what do you suggest that I do? I’m stuck here and he has nowhere else to go,” I whisper-shout.

“He can stay with me tonight.” He shrugs as if it’s a no-brainer.

“You’re insane.”

He blows out a deep breath of frustration and crosses his arms over his chest, mirroring me. “This, again. Really?”

“Why would he go with you?” We’re completely mimicking each others’ stances, behaving too stubbornly for our ages.

“So, he doesn’t have to stay here. I have the room. I live in a clean house. I’m not a fu-” He cuts himself off before he drops an f-bomb like he did earlier.

I was shocked when he yelled at me at the scene of the fire. I didn’t expect it. He’s been a brick wall every other time I’ve been around him.

“I’m not some pervert, criminal, or bandit that’s going to hurt your brother.”

I got under his skin with the pedophile comment earlier. Unfortunately, I am not feeling the satisfaction I thought I would for finally getting to him. I’m too exhausted and worried about Dec. He’s right. Dec shouldn’t stay here and I hate that he’s right.

“How can I trust you?” I ask genuinely. My chest hurts, my throat’s unquenchable, and I’m too tired to fight, mostly.

He pulls a slim wallet from his front left pocket and tosses two cards onto my bed, on top of my legs. I pick up his driver’s license first, and then his Sheriff’s ID, examining them closely.

Jackson Malec. His first name is Jackson. I didn’t know that, nor care.

His hair is of course, perfect, in both photos. Cleanly shaven on the sides and longer on top. Barely long enough to keep pushed back. He probably rolls out of bed, slides his fingers over his scalp, and is good to go. Even without smiling in his photos, you can tell how authentically good-looking he is and it’s nauseating. He’s probably had everything just like that handed to him his entire life.

“Take a picture of both. It has my address. My height, and weight. My law enforcement credentials. Do you want my social? It’s 232-”

“I get it, chill. I don’t have a pen, anyway.”

“Here is my phone number,” he grabs a pen out of his vest pocket and writes his number on the back of his business card. He throws it on the bed with the other cards. I notice that he added his social security number, too.

“What if I want to talk to Dec?”

“Anytime you want.”

I study him and the cards, snapping a picture of all of them with my phone. He stares up at the ceiling like he’s praying for patience but doesn’t say anything. “He has school in the morning.”

“I’ll take him.”

“Why?” The disbelief in my voice cannot be hidden. I can’t fathom why he is so willing to help us.

“Because he’s too young to drive…”

This fucker wants me to fight him. Clearly, he has a death wish. “Yes, Jackson Small Dick, I know that. Why are you doing all of this?”

“Dec is my friend. This is what friends do. Now, eat your food. Get some beauty sleep because you need it.” He doesn’t even humor me by looking in my direction after that little dig. If he did, he’d get both of my middle fingers this time.

“You’re a child, do you know that?”

“No, you can see that I am a 32-year-old man. You can reference the picture of my ID again if you miss my face after we leave.” He puts his cards away, avoiding seeing my locked jaw.

“Give us a minute. I’m not asking.” I bark at him. He looks at me finally, nodding his head before stepping out of the room. I ignore the pity in his eyes.

“Hey, Dec. You’re going to have a sleepover at Jackson’s house. Are you okay with that?” I look at my brother closely, trying to gauge his response.

“Without you?”

“Yeah. He’ll take you to school tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

“Just, okay?” I ask, softly.

“I like him but I’m sad you can’t come.” He shrugs his little shoulders.

“I know but I’ll be okay. The doctors will get me out of here quickly. Then we’ll be back to normal tomorrow.”

“Where will we live?”

“I don’t know but I’ll figure it out. I always do, don’t I?” I hug him tightly, hoping like hell it’s not a lie.