Personal: The Extended Edition (Private #3)

Chapter 3

Wes

Run.

That’s the only word my mind can comprehend.

It’s the only order I can give my body.

It’s the only fathomable way to get from my office – where I was in the middle of a video conference call about the enterprise’s clean energy initiatives – to Highland North Medical Center – the last location I ever expected my family to be.

Run.

Haphazardly rushing down the stairs leads to me skipping steps.

Tripping over others.

Clipping my ribs on the railing and stubbing my toe on corners.

Yet despite the increasing pain doing its best to pierce my system it doesn’t get it.

It doesn’t register.

One word and one word only is all I comprehend.

Run.

Roars of my name are barely heard over the hard pounding of my feet and even harder pounding of my heart.

Vaulted memories of ear-splitting screams are followed by mental flashes of flames that momentarily stumble me to a complete stop.

Command that I shut my eyes.

Watch in horror at the images my mind has managed to hold onto all these years.

While I tell people I don’t remember much from the crash, I remember enough.

Inhuman cries from my mother.

Sizzling skin of my father.

The putrid smell of my own burning flesh.

Sudden tightening in my chest stifles my ability to breathe; however, I force myself to push onward.

Resume moving towards the place I need to be.

The people who need me.

Who I need.

My eventual arrival in the lobby is where I’m unsurprisingly being greeted by Luther Park, the head of my personal security, “Wilcox-”

“ Move! ” is all I order during my dash past him.

“Why are you running?!” He calls out behind me. “Is the elevator broken?!”

“ No, ” Holmes airily retorts from the same direction. “He’s just-”

The end of his statement is unheard courtesy of my exiting onto the busy downtown sidewalk.

Regardless of the crowded circumstances, I don’t cease my efforts to continue running.

Lights and sounds and people are blurs as I sprint for the hospital with the news of their accident doing everything in its power to slow my stride.

I can’t believe this is happening.

I can’t believe I may lose my entire family all over again.

I barely survived losing the one I was born into.

I don’t know what’ll happen to me if I lose the one, I helped create.

I opt out of following traffic patterns and pedestrian signs.

I dash through back alleys, cut off cars waiting to turn, and even trample through a construction site to shave off any extra seconds possible.

Damn near bursting through the sliding glass entry barely precedes me roaring, “ Where is my wife?! ”

The young woman behind the front counter area pauses mid sip of her beverage while the older woman doesn’t even bother ceasing the phone conversation she’s actively conducting.

“ Where is my son?! ”

Her expression of fear simply deepens as her eyes sweep across my scar and sweat drenched face down to my tattered shirt and jacket that I appear to be bursting out.

“ Where are they?! ” Additional outrage over not being answered quick enough rips another monstrous rumble from me. “ Speak! ”

“Sh-sh-sh-should I call security?” the pale faced female attempts to ask the one with umber skin.

“Not necc!” Jessie suddenly squeaks out, calling my attention to right where she’s frantically waving. “Totally not necc! His family’s just been in an accident and-”

“ Where?! ” is attached to a hysterical lunge towards her. “ Where. Are. They?! ” Her arms instantly extend in opposing directions prompting another beastlike growl to appear behind my gritted teeth. “ Where?! ”

“Opposites wings!”

More grumbles of frustration echo around the area prior to me erupting, “ What?! ”

“ Go easy on the girl, Wilcox. ” Holmes suddenly insists, his breath still short and choppy from attempting to follow me. “ She’s clearly already fucking scared. And you currently look like something out of a fucked up werewolf movie. ”

“And you’re currently out of shape,” Park chastises in an even tone. “I see fitness tests need to be moved to quarterly and conducted in the field going forward.”

Groans out of my guard are overruled by my son’s nanny nervously explaining, “Wy is in the pediatric wing on the right side of the hospital, and Bryn is still unconscious in the ER which is to the left .”

Is this some sort of fucked up The Dark Knight joker created test?

Am I really being asked right here, right now to choose who matters more to me the same way he was?

Why?!

For what fucking reason?!

That villainous genius was trying to prove to the actual Bruce Wayne that he was not in control.

That he couldn’t control everything despite his belief that he could.

Is that why some all-powerful writer out in the universe is doing this to me?

To reiterate the same?

To remind me that I cannot control all things, all the time, everywhere?!

That the world doesn’t literally bend to my whim because I command it to?

Demand that it does?

“Hill is waiting with Lauren,” Park calmly informs. “I need to be briefed on the details of situation, so I’m going to head for them.” A small, almost sympathetic smile is presented. “Holmes, accompany Wilcox and Rous to assess the situation with Wyland. I’ll debrief Hurst at a later time.”

“Yes, sir,” Holmes states in a steadier tone.

Thankful someone else is thinking clearly leads to me tipping my head in gratitude at Park who slyly reciprocates the action.

I wanna see Bryn.

I wanna be with Bryn.

But I can’t.

Not yet.

Her mother still in the waiting area indicates no one is allowed into her room; therefore, there’s no real Dawes vs. Dent scenario here.

My son needs me.

And the truth is…even if she were awake…with him is where she’d want me to be.

Protecting him.

Comforting him.

Putting him first.

Something I clearly need to fucking work on.

Our trip from the main lobby to the one specifically for children is executed in an uneasy emotional fog. Fear that I’m the reason they’re in the hospital – much like I was the reason my parents were on that plane – latches itself onto the nape of my neck and grapples for control.

Claws at my subconscious.

Coos that this is my fault, that of course it’s my fault, that it has to be my fault for being in a meeting for my company rather than enjoying the company of my family.

Perhaps it’s right.

None of this would’ve been possible if I would’ve been there.

Playing with him.

Spending time with her.

Focused on them as opposed to the wealth I want to give them.

The pride I want them to have in our name.

Our legacy.

“ Wilcox, ” Holmes firmly speaks. “ Out of the elevator, sir. ”

My perplexity by our abrupt arrival to the pediatric floor is being kept poorly hidden by nodding and throat clearing. With the sound of the doors dinging closed behind me, I direct my question to Jessie, “Room number?”

Her cringing swiftly eradicates any momentary placidity I had found.

“ Miss. Rous. ”

“Everything was happening so fast with the ambulance and the cops and then the fucking Lyft or Uber or Heyyyle drive who couldn’t find The Frost Luxury Hotel to pick up their person! And then everyone said everything so fast! And then we get here and two people were talking to me at once and I didn’t know who I was supposed to be listening to. And I didn’t know which one was the fucking doctor! And then and then and then Lauren arrived, and she was crying and then Clark was trying to calm her down and then that OnlyFans trynatobe was all over Jeff who was trying to call Park and then before I realized it everyone just broke in different directions like our football huddle was over and it was time to get a Superbowl!”

Bewilderment drops my jaw along with Holmes’s.

Okay.

None of that was fucking helpful.

Hell, most of that was not even comprehensible.

“We have to check in at the desk anyway,” Jessie casually motions a finger that direction, “so they should um…just tell us again?”

“Is that a question or statement, Miss Rous?”

“Both?”

“ It cannot be both. ”

“But like…it is?”

New, deeper, rumbles rattle my chest encouraging Holmes to intervene.

Again.

“Boss,” my eyes cut over just in time to see him kick his chin, “there.”

Spotting the large, half circle desk a few feet down the hall gets me storming away from the young woman I may be firing at the end of the day and over to the golden bronze, plus-sized female that must have all her shit in order given that she’s openly reading a paperback novel.

“ Wilcox, ” I practically bark upon my arrival. “ I need to see my son. ”

Her big, dark brown eyes hesitate to pull away from the Sloan Mather’s book in her possession to meet mine as she greets in a flat tone, “Hello, sir.”

“ Wilcox. ”

“ Wilcox ,” she echoes in an unimpressed nature. “I’m pediatric medical administrator Bigpond. How may I help you?”

“I need to see my son.”

“Your visitor pass will grant you that access.”

“Pass?!” Consternation claws its way through my voice. “What pass?!”

“The visitor pass you are issued upon your child’s admission into the hospital.”

“I wasn’t here when that happened!”

“There’s no need to raise your voice.”

“And there’s no need for you to make the process of me getting to him this fucking difficult.”

“If you prefer, I can make it extremely difficult by taking an emergency phone call you didn’t hear ring – initially forcing you to wait for an additional twenty to thirty minutes – before taking my next break, which would increase your wait time by at least fifteen more given that there is no one else to assist you in this process at this time,” she threatens in the most emotionless tone I think I’ve heard. “ Or ,” her round face cranes slightly forward, “you can lower your volume and I’ll inform you of your child’s whereabouts.”

I force myself to swallow my displeasure.

“Is your son located in the NICU? PICU? PIMU? ER? Or in the main medical vicinity?”

Unpredicted dread completely paralyzes my vocal cords.

What do all of those letters mean?

Why are there so many?

Should there be that many?

Is that excessive?

Is she purposely attempting to aggravate me further as punishment for interrupting her reading?!

For speaking too loudly?!

Can I buy a hospital?

Can I get a nurse fired for trying to play fucking mind games with me instead of getting me to my son?!

Bigpond adjusts her grip on her reading material prior to asking, “Would you like me to look up the information?”

Holmes plants a harsh hand on my shoulder that encourages me to suck in a deep breath.

Calm down.

Remember that this isn’t a time to make a powerplay but simply do whatever it takes to get to my son.

“I would greatly appreciate that, Administrator Bigpond.”

The woman purses her pink painted lips together, relocates the novel to the side of the keyboard, and moves a hand over to the mouse. “I need the full name and age of the patient as well as a photo ID for security protocol. Only parents and guardians listed on a minor’s contact information can be granted direct access.”

An unexpected sense of relief nestles into the pit of my stomach prompting me to nod my understanding.

This is good.

This means that whoever tried to take my son can’t just walk in here and finish the job.

That they can’t pick up where they left off.

That this irritated female won’t let some random asshole who simply claims to know my child into his life.

This level of security – even if it causes me a minor inconvenience – is what I want.

Expect.

What I didn’t expect was someone trying to kidnap him in the first place.

Of course, when Wy was born, it – like many other scenarios – was discussed but that’s all I ever assumed it would be.

A discussion.

Theory.

Not once did I ever believe it would be an actual possibility.

Post providing her with the requested information along with verifying that Jessie and my entire personal security team are on the approved list, we receive our sticker badges and are sent to the very end of the hall where he’s currently located.

We politely maneuver around the brightly scrub covered male staff in our path until we arrive at my son’s ocean-themed room where it appears as though all of the nurses assigned to floor, a couple of assistants, and what I imagine to be his doctor responsible for his care are gathered around his bedside, giggling uncontrollably.

At least they’re not bawling or having to hold him down because he is.

“Nooooo,” Wy’s tiny hand waves at the black haired, Hispanic woman closest to him, “you miss atennnn…”

She girlishly snickers and tilts her head to the side. “You sure?”

He immediately gives her an overconfident nod.

The woman lightly laughs again, puckers her lips, and blows him an air kiss prompting him to frantically wiggle his frame around. He theatrically lifts his band aid bombarded arm in the air and pretends like he’s going to fall out of his bed only to be magically saved by the kiss landing gently on his elbow.

“ Fuuuuu, ” sighs my bowtie wearing mini.

“Did it work that time?” asks the female who isn’t even bothering to hide her toothy grin.

“Uhhuh.” Wy’s mischievous smirk he inherited from his mom spreads from ear to ear as he arrogantly nods again. “Ouchie alllll bedder.”

The women in the room giggle even louder, leaving me no choice but to shake my head in bewilderment.

I ran some odd amount of blocks, through garbage and sewage in the middle of the hottest part of the day thinking my poor kid was suffering unimaginable agony with broken bones and bruised appendages while crying out for his parents to be at his side when in reality he’s just flirting his ass off with the entire pediatric staff?

Relief and disbelief battle for the right to claim my stiff shoulders, sparking a second headshake out me.

“He’s quite the little charmer,” Clark unexpectedly says from over my shoulder. “I stepped out of the room for all of two minutes to use the bathroom while the doctor checked his vitals and come back to see what appears to be every woman in this wing of the hospital fawning over him.”

I angle my face just enough to meet his stare. “We both know he gets that from Bryn.”

“Her charm. Your style.”

“Ohhhhh and his little bowtie is tooooo cute!” squeaks one of the younger females.

“Except I hate ties,” is mumbled under my breath.

“It cookdid,” Wy slyly announces with a wave to the object.

“Awww,” she instantly coos, “want me to fix it for you, sir?”

He arrogantly grins to himself prior to purring, “ Pweaseeee? ”

Alright.

I do pull that move on his mom.

Often.

Guess I didn’t realize he was watching.

And now I’m hoping that’s where he stops watching because what I tend to negotiate next is not something he should be exposed to at his age.

While she straightens the article, he directs his attention to the brunette at the foot of his bed. “More an-aids?”

“You already have so many,” she sweetly criticizes. “I think you’re good.”

“Good be bedder…”

“ That’s Bryn, ” I whisper the observation to the crowd near me.

“One more?” Wy’s big blue eyes suddenly take on a softer shade in tandem with his tone growing gentler. “Only meed one more to be alllll bedder forebberrrr.”

“Forever?” she coos at him and gives his Chuck covered toes a wiggle. “ Forever, ever? Then you won’t need me to come back.”

“You can alwaves come back to me.”

“ Fuck ,” absentmindedly tumbles out of my mouth just above a whisper, “ that’s me. ”

“The kid is both of you,” Holmes lightly chuckles. “It’s almost scary.”

“Nah,” Jessie warmly insists. “That’s how it should be.”

“Ohmygod,” the nurse swoons too loudly, “you are so cute!” A band-aid is swiftly retrieved from the box in her clutches. “Where should we put this one?”

His victorious smile spurs me to shake my head for what I doubt will be the last time while we’re occupying this room.

Gordonhavemercy , he looks just like me after I close a deal.

How is this even possible?!

My son tapping his kneecap right above his sock precedes him trying to wink.

The all-woman filled crowd goes wild at the action, which is when I find myself needing to intervene.

We’ve created a monster.

An adorable, pint-sized, hard to resist hustler that I have no doubt will add to the clout of the Wilcox name someday.

Warmth that he’s not only alive but also seemingly well leads to me grinning wide. “ Mr. Wyland. ”

“Dad!!!” He joyfully cheers prior to explaining my presence to his adoring fans, “Dat’s Dad. Dad here.”

“Hey, Little Hero.” I stroll further into the room with the rest of my family. “How do you feel?”

My son admires the handiwork coating his tiny frame. “Have duperdowers.”

“Which ones?”

“ All dem. ”

Clark lightly chuckles at the same time he inquires, “Because of all the superhero band-aids?”

Wy instantly nods at his grandfather prompting the Hispanic woman from the first encounter I witnessed to lift her hand and mouth behind it, “ They’re all for show. ”

Relief curls my lips upward as the other females in the room begin making their way out, waving sweetly and blowing kisses for him to catch out of the air.

I’m not this liked.

Adored.

And while Bryn has an unusual charm to her people grow to love, it’s typically not their default feeling.

Where did he get this irresistible nature from?

Is this uncle J.T.’s doing?

“Do you need to go potty, Wy?” Jessie lovingly inquires while swooping up his go bag.

“No.”

“Have you been potty?” Clark follows up with a point down to his grandson’s lower half. “Has Gotham had rain?”

“No.”

“Do you wanna try?” I gingerly suggest knowing pushing him only seems to bring out the stubbornness everyone swears he inherited from us both. “See the cool, big boy potty they’ve got right next door?”

His lips pull to one side in obvious contemplation.

“You so should,” says the white coat woman still in the room. “It’s got Nemo fish painted on the seat.”

“ Cownfish ,” Wy corrects without hesitation.

“Excuse me?”

“Nemo is cownfish.”

An impressed expression crosses her face during her nodding. “You’re right.”

“I know.”

“ Wy ,” scoldingly escapes prompting him to dramatically sigh – which he gets only from Bryn.

“Mom a marleen myologist,” my son does his best to explain. “I know all fish.”

Rather than argue, she simply smiles and proposes the usage of the bathroom again. “Why don’t you go check out our clownfish potty while I talk to your dad about your superhero tests?”

“Otay!” He enthusiastically agrees and angles himself towards Clark. “Gampi, you make me!”

“ Take you,” he casually revises. “ T-t-t-take you. ”

Wyland starts practicing the sound creating the perfect opportunity for me and the doctor to step to his doorway, completely out of sight.

The instant we’re there, she politely offers me an open palm, “I’m Doctor Veronica Ramos.”

“Wilcox.” I shake in return. “Weston Wilcox.”

“You make great whiskey,” she unexpectedly compliments upon our grips separating. “And great kids.” Her hands find their way to her coat pockets. “Wyland is an absolute sweetheart.”

“Little pushy.”

“Merely curious,” Ramos insists with a smile. “It’s quite natural for all children to question and explore the boundaries particularly in a new environment, especially in one they weren’t expecting.”

An ache is instantly sparked in my chest.

“From what the first responders said along with the ER doc, Wyland did wonderful. He listened. He was polite. And having his nanny, Jessie, along with his security detail there seemed to make a major difference. They provided the constant in an otherwise scary and trauma inducing situation.”

I swallow the discomfort over having more questions than answers to investigate, “You said the bandages were simply for show?”

“Yes.”

“Does this mean he has internal injuries?”

“Not at all.” Her small lips temporarily press together. “His mother, Mrs. Wilcox-”

“ Bryn. ”

“-took the bulk of the hit. She used her body to shield his, and it was effective.”

The ache swiftly spreads.

Deepens.

Drills into the marrow of my bones where it lingers.

Whimpers.

Whispers that I should’ve been there.

That I should’ve been the one protecting our son.

“Wyland seems to have suffered some scrapes along his legs from where he was dragged during the attempted abduction; however, his knee-high socks appear to have cushioned most of that damage. There’s some very minor bruising on his forearm from the grip on the area that he mentioned feeling a little sore, so we gave him a dose of Tylenol when he first arrived to alleviate that pain and will administer another in about an hour to ensure it stays at bay. His vitals are strong. There’s nothing to be concerned about in his blood work. We’re still monitoring the development of bruise patterns and possibilities of infection from exposure to anything foreign – perhaps as a additional branch to the abduction – but if nothing changes in the next couple of hours, he’ll be ready for release.” She pulls her long, thick hair to one side of her surprisingly cut jawline. “He’s honestly one of the happiest, healthiest, most charming, band-aid obsessed kids I’ve ever met.”

Instead of spewing how grateful I am to have valuable data regarding his wellbeing or how comforting I find it or how I appreciate her diligence in his care, I moronically mumble, “I’ll pay for the band-aids.”

Ramos sweetly shakes her head, easy to adore smile still prevalent. “Not necessary, Mr. Wilcox. This is the children’s wing of the hospital. Band-aids are kind of already in the budget.”

“Then I’ll donate more to insure you never have to worry about having enough to entertain other children like you have mine.”

“Mr. Wilcox-”

“And I’ll have my company begin writing yearly donation checks to the department to guarantee other children continue to have the best care just as mine has.”

“You don’t have to do that, Mr. Wilcox,” she rushes to reassure. “We’re just doing our jobs.”

“You’re exceeding expectations. That should be rewarded.”

“Quality of life for children in our care is the reward.”

“Then accept the donation I’ll be making on behalf of them. ”

Her mouth twitches – most likely to argue – when her buzzing pager captures her attention. “ SeasmeStreet, ” leaves her mouth in the form of a swear before our eyes connect once more. “I have to go. I’m needed for an emergency, but your nurse is Asha Singh. She was the one who gave him his last band-aid. She’s making her rounds now, but if you need her or he needs her, just push the call button.”

I nod my understanding and watch her promptly flee the space.

My re-entering the room is wordlessly done yet the instant I’m inside, I remain silent.

Take the moment to actually drink in Wy’s disheveled appearance.

Note the dirt stains on his khaki shorts.

Holes in his mismatched high socks.

Socks I swore that he hated.

That he’d never wear.

I’m glad I was wrong.

Which is absolutely not something I say lightly.

Or often.

Correlating Ramos’s descriptions with the marks on his body is an easy task that I’m equally grateful and resentful about.

I’m thankful I know exactly where his injuries are.

I’m even more thankful I know exactly what happened.

However, I loathe that with one look at him I can relive his attempted kidnapping.

Envision the very moment I could’ve lost him.

Them.

“Blox-o-tock, Gampi!” Wy enthusiastically announces while pumping his tiny fists into the air. “Dit me!”

“Why does my son sound like he’s at frat party?” I curiously ask his nanny. “And please be aware if this was your doing, we will be reevaluating your employment position.”

“Breathe, Weston,” Clark lightly chortles enroute to grab Wy’s bag. “That was Bryn’s doing.”

“Why?” There’s no stopping me from quirking an eyebrow. “Why would she teach him a riff on drunken college behavior? He’s. Two. ”

“And da halv,” my son snips with a sharp point of his finger.

“Two and half going on fifteen,” mutters the oldest male in the room during his digging around. “Alright, Mr. Wyland,” Clark gradually begins, “our juice options for the moment are Totally Turtle-”

“Kale, cucumber, seaweed, apple, and coconut water,” Jessie explains to the group.

“Or Bursting Barnacle.”

“Pineapple, orange, blueberry, seaweed, and coconut water.” Our attention cuts to her prompting the woman in the room to add, “Bryn recently discovered a small, local company that creates healthy juices for children and uses a healthy portion of its proceeds to then donate to ocean conservation projects. Wy loves them so much that she’s pitching B&P to pick up the product to sell in the giftshop.”

“Bamicle, pwease,” the small charmer calls out.

My hands find their way to my pockets. “How long ago was this?”

“Uhh…” Jessie dives into her own pocket for her cell. “Couple months ago?”

“Question or statement, Rous.” I fight the urge to narrow my stare. “ Pick. One. ”

“It was a couple months ago. We got a bottle at the Red, White, and Blue Festival. They had a booth.”

“I don’t recall that.”

“It might’ve been when you stepped away for that photo op for Runt’s.” She bounces her head slightly back and forth. “Or when you got that phone call from the meat people-”

“Bennett Enterprises.”

“-about some private yacht party.”

“ Regatta .”

“Are those really the important takeaways from this conversation, Weston?” Clark scolds as he slides the bottle of juice into Wy’s possession.

No.

The fact I had no idea my son had a new favorite juice or that my wife was pitching something to her company she felt was worthy of more capital is clearly where my focus should be.

Although, I don’t need more evidence that I’m not present enough for my fucking family.

Hell, at this point, I could use less.

I could use a little acknowledgement that I’m here for them.

That I am capable of being here for them.

All of a sudden, movement occurs at the entryway, prompting Holmes to reach for his holster and me to move towards my son.

“Stand down, dude. It’s just us,” my best friend proclaims, hands innocently lifted in the air.

“Don’t say dude,” I instantly reprimand. “You’re not a college freshman back from his first Spring Break.”

“This room does look like the view we had while snorkeling,” Janae Reese, formerly known as Janae Boucher – twin sister to the infamous NBA legend Jericho Boucher – warmly announces from his side. “Which I do recommend doing sans the clothing if ever given the opportunity. It's a much more freeing experience.” Her dark brown eyebrows bounce in a playful fashion. “One we will be thanking Bryn for when she wakes up.”

The pain in my chest that had briefly dulled roars with a vengeance.

“She’s gonna wake up, Wes,” J.T. quietly promises. “We both know the only reason she hasn’t is because Bryn does ish on her own time.” He arrives at my side to deliver a comforting pat to my back. “The woman was literally late for her own wedding.”

“Which is why we lied about the start time to her about ours.” Winks his wife.

An urge to smile soars through my veins but never quite makes it to my face.

“Nucle Day T!” Wy exclaims, immediately lunging for him, almost spilling his juice. “Antee Nae!”

“Hey, nephew!” He joyfully greets back, swooping my son into his arms the instant he arrives in front of him. “Whoooa!” A small adjustment to him in his possession is made. “Did you get even bigger while I was gone?”

“ Soul big. ”

“You put on more muscle?”

Wy flexes his juice free arm with pride. “Wero mustdle.”

“Still the most handsome hero I know,” Janae coos on a tap of her light honey brown finger to his nose.

He coyly smiles and offers her a drink of his juice.

The kid is a total flirt.

Whether it’s Janae – which he always blushes around – or Vanessa Setta – who now has a newborn with her Fed boyfriend – or Leilani “Lani” – Calen’s wife that he’s has a habit modeling his newest clothes for – or random women – what I walked in on – my son can’t resist turning the charm on.

It’s obvious he likes the attention.

But I am concerned that he’s going to turn into the one thing I never truly was.

The stereotypical, playboy or fuck boy or one and done billionaire the world believes all rich and powerful men are.

I honestly hope he gets a tad nerdier.

Like me.

“Pesents?” My son quickly asks upon taking his juice back from Janae. “Tandy?”

“ Wyland, ” I instantly scold.

He gives me a sarcastic stare that has me wanting to both smirk and glare. “ Vabation, Dad. Dey went on vabation. ”

“ V-aaaa-c-c-c-ation, ” J.T. casually corrects, adjusting his hold once more, “and all that stuff is in our luggage.” His eyes soar to mine. “We came here the minute we touched down.” The struggle not to let his voice waver is evident. “And we’ll be wherever you need us to be the second you say it.”

“You wanna come home and play with us, Wy?” Janae swiftly suggests.

“Us?!” croaks her husband in obvious objection.

“Yeah,” she replies while relocating their godson into her arms. “We can watch Star Trek . Build starships with his blocks. Have pepperoni, pineapple, and jalape?o pizza for dinner.”

“I wuv hollopenos!”

“Fun for him. Misery for me,” the male at my side quietly grumbles.

“We can make hot fudge sundaes for dessert. And give him a bath-”

“ And pesents… ”

His little addition sparks snickers around the room.

The little man is hard to say no to.

That’s his real superpower.

“That’s quite a marvelous idea, Aunty Janae,” Clark promptly encourages. “Miss Jessie would probably like to head home as today has been quite the traumatic feat for her as well given the situation along with the numerous conversations she had to have with the authorities and first responders.”

His announcement cuts my attention back to her. “Have you spoken with Park yet?”

“Uh…” a tiny nibble to her bottom lip is taken. “He told me we’d speak after he had talked to Hill and Jeff – er – Hurst. ”

Rather than investigate why she has continuously been calling him Jeff, I choose to fixate on the more pressing matter. “And where is Hurst? And why is he not here ? Protecting my fucking son?”

“F bomb, only mom,” Wy reprimands on a wag of his tiny finger.

I approve of the adult language controlling method.

I do not approve of not being included in the reminder.

“Hurst was instructed to go to Bryn when he was released from questioning by the HPD.”

“By who?”

“ Me ,” informs the older male on a folding of his arms. “I sent him to assist in protecting your wife and my daughter-in-law. I can protect my grandson. Trust me. I protected you from far worse.”

“Than an abduction attempt?”

“Someone tried to abduct him?!” Janae squawks in disbelief. “What?!”

“When?!” her husband immediately questions. “Why?!”

“Minside voice is moaning shoice,” Wy chastises without hesitation.

“Yes,” Clark calmly answers me prior to directing his attention to the others. “And we can discuss that at a later time. Perhaps after someone has been tucked in for the evening?”

Right.

He’s not currently traumatized by the afternoon’s adventures, so there’s no need to change that.

Janae and J.T. nodding in tandem prompts me to state, “Little Hero, we have to see the nurse and the doctor a couple more times just to make sure your ouchies are healing and then you can go home with Uncle J.T. and Aunty Nae while Jessie goes to her home, okay?”

To my surprise, he doesn’t argue. “Can we pay wit my new ochin moard?”

“You got a new ocean toy?” engages his aunt who adjusts him in her grip. “Can I see?”

“ Ip a learming toy, ” Wy theatrically exclaims. “ And medie the shoe. ”

“Why don’t I help you show Aunty Nae how it works before I go?” Jessie warmly offers and tips her head towards his stuff. “And why don’t we show her your new Batman underwear that you’re gonna keep dry?”

Their transition towards the corner of the room leaves me the opportunity to quietly explain, “The abundance of band aids are merely a deal he brokered-”

“Naturally.”

“ However ,” my hands find their way back to my pants pockets, “some of the scrapes on his legs are from the incident as are any bruises you may spot on his arms. They’ve administered Tylenol and may advise you to give him another dose before bed. Can you handle that?”

“A lot easier than I could the commission negotiations to broker Nae a custom piece from her favorite artist who specializes in graffiti designs.”

The corner of my lip threatens to kick upward. “Problems in paradise already, Nightwing?”

“You just focus on Catwoman and leave my relationship with Babs to me.”

“Is she Babs or is she Starfire?”

“She is whichever one he ends up with forever ,” my best friend impishly jabs. “Now, go get us an update on Mrs. Wayne and I’ll text you when your little hero has been cleared for duty.”

I nod, give him a firm pat of gratitude, and motion for Clark to follow me. Expectedly, Holmes begins to exit with us forcing me to lift an open palm at the same time I instruct. “ Stay here. ”

“But-”

“I’ll be fine. Park and Hill are both on the premises.”

“But-”

“Farzad and Rauch don’t report for duty until tomorrow. They were given off for the duration of J.T.’s honeymoon, remember?”

“Yes, but-”

“My son’s safety is your top priority.”

“Wes-”

“ Him. First. ” The firmness in my tone leaves no room for a rebuttal. “ Do your job, Holmes. ” Genuine desperation for him to understand, to read what it is I’m saying increases exponentially. “ I’m counting on you. ” A small glance to where the women are throwing their head back in laughter while my little man simply smiles is given prior to meeting his gaze again. “ We all are. ”