Late Nights & Love Lines (Single Dad Hotline #2)

19. She stayed

19

SHE STAYED

SEBASTIAN

I didn’t ask permission to enter her room or to climb into her bed, and I have no right to demand her story, but I want all of her. Once again I find myself praying that she’ll give me more, so I wait patiently, clasping my hands over my lap so I don’t fidget.

The second I heard the words my mom never wanted me , my body moved on instinct. That invisible thread that has always tied us together pulled hard at my core—she needed me.

But that’s not the only reason I want her secrets. The more I learn, the more I understand how similar her life is to Seren’s, and I now know with resolute certainty that I’ll do anything in my power to protect them both.

“Why?” she asks, her voice low as she stares at her hands. She’s highlighted by a sliver of moonlight that slips through her sheer curtains.

We sit shoulder to shoulder, but my face is angled so I don’t miss a single expression.

“I thought that would be obvious,” I say gently.

Finally, she looks at me—really looks at me—and I allow her to see into the very depths of my soul.

“I want to know everything about you, Rowan, whatever you’re willing to share.”

Her forehead creases as she lowers her chin to her chest.

When she speaks, my entire body tilts forward to hear her.

“She never wanted kids, but she loved my dad almost obsessively, and he wanted a big family. My birth was…difficult, I guess.” She shrugs, pressing against my shoulder with the movement. “I don’t remember how she was when I was a baby, but from my very first memory of her, I don’t think she ever tried to bond with me. Then, when Dad got sick, she blamed me.”

“You were a child.”

Rowan shrugs as though that one very important fact doesn’t matter.

“When we knew that the chemo wasn’t working, he wanted to spend all his time with us. She resented that I was there and that he always included me. She hated that I was always his priority.”

“That’s what parents are supposed to do,” I mutter. She shrugs again as if it doesn’t matter then reaches for her wrist, probably searching for the bracelets she always wears. But her wrist is bare, and her thumb just taps against the tattoo.

Whether she admits it or not, she seeks comfort from me, or at least the memory of me.

“After he died, she became…indifferent. When she remarried, I quickly learned that it made her happy to see me punished for everything and nothing. My stepsister was the golden child, and since she never stole my father’s time, my mother decided Haley was worthy of her time and attention.” She curls in on herself.

“My stepfather was a cruel, cruel man. He hated my existence—said I was a constant reminder that someone else had been with his wife, even though he happily lived in a house that my father paid for.”

Rowan peers over at me but doesn’t hold eye contact.

“They were happy when I left home—all of them were. I ran into my mom once, and I panicked. I thought for sure she’d attempt to drag me home. Instead, she simply told me good luck. That she wouldn’t be looking for me, and that as far as she was concerned, I’d died right along with my father.”

“Jesus Christ.” My stomach revolts. Sixteen is too young for those words not to cut. Not that they’d hurt any less at sixty, but teenagers still need their parents. “Maybe I should be grateful Mya left without a word.”

“Maybe,” she says absently. “Seeing you tonight, with all those people at Beck and Stella’s house, it made me happy for you and the kids. I’m glad you’ll have that kind of family—the kind that chooses you. It’ll be good for the kids to have that stability and love too.”

She’s pulling away again. I saw it in her eyes at Beck’s. It’s always one step forward and two steps back with her. How do I get her to believe I’m willing to perform that dance with her for eternity though?

Her phone vibrates on the table, and anger crawls up my spine. If that’s fucking Thane interrupting us again, I’m going to lose it.

Picking it up, I sigh with relief when Lottie’s name lights up the screen.

I hand it to Rowan, and she answers as my mind whirls with ways to prove to her that there’s a place for her and it’s by my side.

“Oh no,” she groans, putting me instantly on alert. “Have you checked in on Seren tonight?”

I go lightheaded. My blood pressure has probably spiked dangerously high. “She went to bed around nine, right when we got home.”

“We need to have a talk with her. Leo just found a walkie-talkie strapped to a beam in the nanny cabin. Apparently, someone was talking in it, scaring the crap out of the nannies and making them think someone was watching them.”

What the hell am I going to do with my daughter?

“And…Lottie wants to meet with us first thing in the morning.”

“What in the actual fuck?” I grumble.

We’re both climbing out of her bed when Miles screams. Rowan’s terrified expression matches mine before we both burst from her room, down the hallway, and up the stairs to the bunk room.

Miles is in the middle of the floor, writhing in pain and clutching his side. He’s panting and covered in sweat, while Kade is curled up in the bottom bunk with tears streaming down his face.

The world turns upside down and everything is wrong.

I’m momentarily frozen to the spot. I’ve never seen any of my children this way, and my body constricts as though his pain attacks my own flesh. Fear pushes the air from my lungs and twists my insides. For the first time as a parent, I don’t know what to do.

Rowan rushes past me and drops to my little boy’s side. “Miles, buddy. Where does it hurt?”

He can’t talk through the violent sobs that wrack his little body. Instead, he clutches his right side, then chokes as vomit spills from his mouth. It spurs me into motion, and I drop to his other side.

Rowan’s hands roam his body. “He’s burning up,” she says with a shaky voice.

Pappy and Seren enter the large room and both rush to Kade’s side.

“It might be his appendix,” Rowan says in a rush. “He’s holding his right side. I don’t know what else it could be. We need to get him to the hospital.”

I nod and try to lift him, but his scream chills me to my core. “C—call an ambulance. Please. Someone call.”

Rowan jumps to her feet and rushes out of the room. Pappy ushers Kade and Seren out after her.

I’ve never felt so helpless in my entire life.

It’s an eternity before Rowan returns, but when she does, she lowers her face to Miles and whispers comforting words in his ear while rubbing his back.

The next few minutes pass with agonizing slowness, until finally, paramedics enter the room with a stretcher. Rowan is the one who speaks to them. She tells them about the scream and everything that’s happened since. She mentions that he fell asleep in the middle of a party, something I hadn’t even thought twice about.

I hold his hand as they load him up but have to release it so they can get him down the stairs. Rowan and I rush outside, each holding his hand on either side until we reach the ambulance.

“Are you his parents?” the paramedic asks as they load Miles into the back.

“I—I am,” I choke out.

The man looks between us and nods. “Immediate family only. You can come with us,” he says, pointing to me.

My gaze darts from him to Rowan. But he’s right, she’s not family. No matter how much I need her with me for this, she can’t be because she’s not ours yet.

The fear that fills Rowan’s face matches my own.

I climb into the ambulance, wishing things were different. Wishing she were Miles’s mother so she could help us through this, but my focus has to remain on Miles, so I do the only thing I can.

“Rowan.” She lifts watery eyes to mine. “Take my keys and meet us at the hospital.”

She nods but returns her focus to Miles.

“Now, Rowan. Go,” I say, more loudly this time, as they shut the back doors.

As we race toward the hospital, the image of Rowan standing in the dark with her hands over her mouth quickly fades away.

It feels like hours since they took Miles back for an emergency appendectomy. I’ve paced miles in these hallways all by myself while my little boy has been spread open on an operating table as they remove his appendix and clean out his abdominal cavity.

Rowan never showed up. I really thought she would. Even with her hang-ups, I thought she cared enough to at least come. The pain she’s caused by not being here for me is only rivaled by the fear of seeing Miles on his bedroom floor.

I called Mya’s dad, Michael, and told him what was happening, and once again, he said he can’t get in touch with her. He’s an asshole who leveled his rage at me when I divorced his daughter, but I have to believe he loves his grandchildren in his own way.

I refuse to call Nick myself but told Michael that if he thought Nick could reach Mya, he was welcome to try. I didn’t get an answer either way, and I don’t give a fuck.

The nurse was nice enough to let me borrow a phone charger when my phone was about to die, so I called Pappy and told him what was happening. Rowan didn’t come to the phone, and I didn’t ask for her.

The sharp reality of her connection to us—or lack of connection—will have to be a problem for another day.

I really thought she’d come. I’ve never felt loneliness this acutely before.

Finally, a doctor enters the hallway I’ve been pacing, followed by the nurse who asked me for Miles’s health history earlier.

“Mr. Walker?” The doctor asks.

“Yes, that’s me. Is he okay?”

The doctor fills me in on the specifics of what happened, but all I hear is that he’s out of surgery, and he’ll make a full recovery.

I shake his hand, and he retreats through another door.

“Mr. Walker,” the nurse says, drawing my attention to her. “I can take you to him now, though he’ll be sleeping for a while. Also, I apologize, we’ve had several emergencies, so I was unable to get to you, but your friends are in the waiting room. They’ve been there since shortly after you arrived. I wanted you to know so you could give them an update when you’re feeling up to it.”

“Friends?”

Her puzzled expression searches my face. “Yes, sir. Are you okay?”

“Do you know their names?” I refuse to let hope in.

“No, I’m sorry. There are three women and one, excuse me for saying this, but one very rude man.”

Despite my situation, I chuckle. That has to be Beck.

“Are you sure Miles will be asleep for a little longer?”

Her kind eyes crinkle as though they’re used to smiling. “Yes, he’ll probably sleep through the night.”

“Oh. Okay, maybe I’ll give them a quick update before I settle in with Miles.”

“That’s fine, a nurse is still with him monitoring his vitals. Come to the nurse’s station when you’re ready, and I’ll take you through to your son.”

“Thank you.”

My heart hammers in my ears as loudly as the incessant beeping that happens in every hospital. I’m warring with so many emotions, but I keep reminding myself that Miles is safe. He’s safe because Rowan sprang into action as soon as she saw him.

Why didn’t she come?

I enter the main waiting room and peer around a couple of privacy screens before I find them—Rowan sits against the back wall. The moment she sees me, she hiccups on a heavy breath as though she’s trying to swallow her emotions. Tabby and Stella flank her, and Beck paces the room, cursing about all the donations he’s made to this hospital and how that should entitle him to at least an update.

She’s here.

The fear of the last hour morphs into relief and gratitude for these people. Rowan looks as though she’s been in a trainwreck though, so I go straight to her.

The second I move in her direction, she leaps from her chair, and everything in her lap tumbles to the floor.

“Th—they w—wouldn’t let me in,” she sobs, and the first tear seems to open the floodgates of her emotions as though I’m her safe space. “I’m n—not family.”

I was right. She’s been trying to hold in her tears.

“They wouldn’t even give us a goddamn update,” Beck grouses.

“Shh,” I say, pulling Rowan tighter against my chest. She fights me because that’s what she does, but after a few choked sobs, she begins to calm down. “He’s okay,” I whisper. “He’s okay.”

Beck is hovering close by, so he hears and relays the message to Tabby and Stella, who both break into tears.

I’ve never seen Rowan cry this way, and it guts me, but it’s the way she’s clawing at me as if she can’t decide if she wants to pull me closer or climb over me to get to Miles that fills me with love.

“She needs this,” Beck whispers. “She’s been holding everything in, not allowing comfort from any of us even though we knew she was terrified.”

I don’t know if Rowan hears him, but I nod in thanks, then tell them what the doctor told me, and the wave of instant relief I felt hearing the same words registers on their faces.

“I’ll call your grandfather and Leo to give them an update,” Beck says, though his voice is suspiciously rough.

“Thank you,” I say. Rowan still clings to me, though her body has lost most of its tension.

“They wouldn’t let me in,” she mumbles into my chest.

“I know.” I run my hand down her back with the same soothing motions she’d used on Miles hours earlier.

“I tried. I tried to get in.”

“I know,” I repeat.

“Rowan?” Stella asks gently. “Why don’t we give you a ride home, okay?”

It’s not noticeable to the eye, but her body tenses in my arms before she nods, wipes her nose with the sleeve of her sweatshirt, and finally lifts her gaze to mine. “Will you call if anything happens?”

I want to glue her to my side and tell the hospital rules to fuck off, but I can’t risk upsetting anyone and getting kicked out. Not when Miles is so vulnerable.

“You know I will.”

She dips her chin, but I catch it with a finger, lift her face to mine, and place a gentle kiss on her forehead. Her body sags against me only momentarily before she spins in place and allows Stella to lead her to the chair where all her stuff is. I nod in thanks, then go in search of the nurse’s station.

When I enter the recovery area, I find Miles hooked up to machines but sleeping peacefully.

“I’m here, buddy,” I say, placing my hand over his. “You gave us all quite the scare.” Leaning in, I place my lips on his forehead and breathe him in for long minutes. The tiny puff of air that escapes his mouth hits my chin, and I allow it to comfort me.

He’s breathing. He’s going to be fine.

Eventually, I pull a chair closer so I can sit next to him, and I sit, watching him sleep.

A couple of hours later, we’re moved to a private room, and a new nurse comes in to check his vitals, then assures me he’s doing great.

“Your friend is still in the waiting room. Apparently, she refused to leave. Someone named Beck called and asked that we relay that message to you.”

The ache in my chest roars.

She stayed.