Vegas Aces: The Wide Receiver Complete Series

CHAPTER 26 TRISTAN

I see so much of myself in the boy reclined back on the bed that it’s almost looking into a mirror of my childhood.

The shaggy brown hair. The dark eyes. The pinched brows. The big front teeth. The lanky body.

His eyes are focused on the television when we walk in, and his mom turns off the screen.

“Someone’s here to see you, sweetheart,” she says softly, and he spots Tessa first.

“Nurse Tessa!” he says. His voice is hoarse, and he sounds tired, but I still hear the enthusiasm in his voice.

“Hey, kiddo,” she says as she moves over to kneel beside his bed. She’s so natural with him, and I…I have no idea what to do. I have no idea what my place is here.

My heart skips a beat at the same term of endearment my parents have used for me my entire life.

“How are you feeling?” she asks. She hands him a superhero sticker, and his eyes light up.

“Tired, but better than yesterday,” he says. “How much longer do I have to stay here?”

“I’m not sure, but I can check with your doctor,” Tessa tells him.

“Dr. Foster has been such a godsend through all of this,” Miranda says, and I nearly choke on my own saliva at the mention of his name.

Everyone turns toward me at the sound of my coughing. “Sorry,” I mutter.

“Oh, Logan, I want to introduce you to the man who is your bone marrow match.” Tessa nods toward me. “This is Tristan.”

His eyes move toward me, and his jaw seems to drop a little. I think I spot recognition in his eyes, and for the briefest moment, I think he recognizes me as his father. But then, I realize that’s not it at all. He recognizes me as a football player, and there’s something hollow and sad about that.

“Thanks for the bone marrow,” Logan says. “You look familiar.”

I walk over toward the bed and hold up a fist for him to bump. He does it, and my chest tightens at my first real contact with the son I didn’t even know existed until recently. “You’re a real superhero, kiddo,” I say softly around the lump in my throat.

“Wait a minute,” Logan says, twisting his mouth dramatically. “Are you a baseball player?”

I chuckle as I shake my head. “No. No, I’m not. But I do play football.”

“That’s it!” he says with a grin, and if it wasn’t for the fatigue in his eyes and the fact that he’s in a hospital bed with a port on his chest, I’d almost never even think he’s ill at all. “So now I have football marrow in my bones?”

That gets a good chuckle from around the room.

And then a thought crosses my mind. He already did have that football marrow in his body, and he doesn’t even know it.

I wish I could tell him. I wish I could take this kid with me, be by his side during his recovery, be his father. I’ve got Tessa, and Fallon, and now the only missing piece from our family puzzle is Logan.

But even though he’s ours, he’s not ours to take. It’s complicated, but part of the job of being a parent is knowing when to let them go.

I glance over at James and Miranda. His arm is around his wife’s shoulders, and clearly they’re facing this scary situation together, head-on. They’re looking with pride at their son, and he smiles over at them with the knowledge that he’s the proud owner of some new football marrow.

And it’s that grin between parents and son that tells me even though it’ll break my heart to walk out of this room, it’s the right thing to do.

Maybe later we’ll come to a point where we can meet again, where we can tell him the truth, where we can have a relationship with him…but right now isn’t that time.

Miranda hands over the basket Tessa put together for him, and he pulls out every item with the excitement of a child on Christmas morning. He plays with the squishy Captain America toy—the one contribution I had to the basket—and then he starts to get sleepy.

James nods at me, and I take it as the signal. It’s time for us to go. We haven’t been here very long, and I don’t want to go. I will never want to go. Tessa hasn’t moved from where she’s been kneeling on the floor beside him the entire time we’ve been in this room except for a minute when we sat beside him taking photos.

But it’s time.

“It was great meeting you, kiddo,” I say to him. “Tessa and I are going to take off so you can get your rest, but you keep being a superhero, okay?”

He nods, and he holds up knuckles. I bump my fist against his, fighting the urge to cry while I’m in here with him.

“You catch some touchdowns for me this year, ‘kay?” he asks, his voice a little hoarse.

“You got it, kid. Every touchdown I catch will be for you. When you see me fist bump the camera after I score, that’s my way of saying hi to you,” I whisper. I can’t put volume to my voice or the emotions I’m working so hard to keep inside will come spilling out.

I can spill them later. Not in front of the kid. Not in front of his parents.

Tessa leans down to hug him gently, and then she presses her lips to his forehead gently. “You keep getting stronger every day, you hear me? You take care of your mom and dad and just know I’m always thinking about you.”

“Thanks,” he murmurs as he starts to fall asleep.

Tessa stands there staring at him a beat. She presses her fingers to her lips, then touches his leg gently. I pick up Fallon’s carrier, grab Tessa’s hand, stare down at our perfect boy one more time, and then we walk out of the room.

Miranda and James follow close behind us. James shuts the door so we can talk in the hallway.

“That went well,” James says, and relief is evident on his face. Maybe he was worried we’d try to take him with us or something. I wish we could.

“Thank you for inviting us.” I reach out a hand to shake his. “If there’s anything we can do, you’ve got our info.”

James nods. “I appreciate that.”

I get the feeling he won’t use our info, though. He seems like the kind of guy who wouldn’t just call me up for money. It’s refreshing, to be honest, and I feel like whoever paired these people with the baby boy Tessa delivered seven years ago knew what they were doing.

“Dr. Foster is managing his recovery?” Tessa asks Miranda.

She nods. “He’s been here every step of the way. He says engraftment is going well but we will need another week here at a minimum, so that basket of stuff you brought will really help us get through the next few nights.”

“If you need anything else…” Tessa offers, and Miranda nods then pulls her into a hug.

“Thank you,” she murmurs. She pulls back and looks beyond Tessa. “Oh, there he is now. Speak of the devil.”

We all turn around to see who Miranda is looking at.

Speak of the devil indeed.