Thick as Thieves (The Greystone Family: Stolen Hearts #3)

Chapter 59

59

Kellen

London

His lids flutter open and we call for the doctor, but he doesn’t fully come round. We have to wait another few hours for it to finally happen. When it does, he smiles at us all, and I can’t fucking breathe. He’s going to be alright.

I should have listened to him years ago about Isobel. He told me for years she was no friend, she was always being nasty. I just assumed she was jealous of him, but it wasn’t anything serious. Well it got serious real quick, and I nearly lost him. I wouldn’t have survived without him over the past twenty years. Losing Evie had been bad, but if Xan had gone as well? I would never have made it through. He dragged me around for years, keeping me alive and just this side of sane, and at times that was debatable.

He chose me again and again. Even when he didn’t agree with me, he wouldn’t leave me. I loved the man. Evie and him were the foundations of my world. Without them, it wouldn’t work. It didn’t work. Hell, I didn’t work.

I don’t want to break down in front of everyone, so I walk out of the room, striding straight past the crowded waiting room, stuffed with family and bandmates. Xander and I didn’t shove our relationship down everyone’s throats. We’d agreed years ago, it was for us only. Was. Because now it’s for Evie, too. But no one else. We never needed public displays of affection to prove anything to anyone. But now, I’d shout it from the rooftops. I’d advertise it on buses around the country. Go global with a marketing campaign. Everything and anywhere.

Walking down the corridor, I step into an alcove that looks out over some gardens. Out of the way of prying eyes, I close my eyes and let my tears fall. I hear soft footfalls coming nearer, and they stop in front of me. His scent, so like Evie’s.

James.

If anyone would notice my movements, it would be my son. He watches everything.

Without a word, he steps into my personal space, putting his arms around me. Still saying nothing, he just holds me. My son. My nineteen-year-old son. I can smell his mother on him, he’s been hugging her.

I’m not sure how long he holds me but eventually he kisses my head. “He’s fine, Dad, he’d not leave us.” I can feel him shaking his head. “He knows I’d send him a text barrage wherever he went.” I feel him smile.

He pauses, then starts quietly, “Remember that day on the beach, when Mum and I smoked you two on a motorbike?” I nod while listening intently. “When he said he’d never seen a more beautiful sight.”

I do. I nod, thinking back to that sunset. How I wanted Evie to stay and make love to me on the beach. But she wouldn’t. I had to share her even then. And I’m glad I did.

“He told me as we walked up the headland, that it was us he was talking about. How much he loved me, Mum, and you. He told me then he wanted to be my dad. I told him he already was.” His voice breaks a bit at the end, so choked with emotion.

He pulls back and looks at me, tears in his eyes. “He’s always been here for us, for you. I saw all the messages he sent Mum after France, and when she went loco and hoofed you all out of our lives for a bit. I saw them, how much love he put into them, how much thought, his whole heart. He told me how Mum saved his life ‘in a graveyard’.” He’s shaking his head. “How she used to get him to take her home at dawn from your house. They’d go up to Broadridge and watch the dawn, how he described every leaf on the trees. How the mist would sit at just above the ground level and rise up to tree level as the temperature rose. The colours of the sun as it came over the hill at the back of the valley. He recalled everything. I knew then he would not let you both go, that you would not let him go. You belong together, Dad. You, Xander, and Mum, all of you. You always did.”