“You, too?”
“Yep.” He sighed, sitting on the arm of the chair.
“Sort of nice,” she said.
“Sort of annoying,” he returned, finishing off the soda.
“It’s nice.” Her mom smiled, smoothing the blankets over Jack. “We’re lucky to have people who care about us.”
Honor watched the sure movements of her mother, knowing just how calming her touch could be. Poor Jack. He didn’t have a mother now. Not having her mom around would be unbearable. And Dad… A hard knot lodged in her throat, making her breath unsteady.
Dad would be okay. He had to be okay.
“You want another soda?” Nick asked, interrupting her thoughts.
She shook her head, standing and stretching. A quick glance at the muted television told her the way-too-smiley saleslady was still selling jewelry. Sitting here worrying wasn’t going to do any good. “Maybe a walk?”
“You two go.” Their mom nodded. “Stretch your legs.”
Nick didn’t argue when she hooked arms with him and led him down the hall. He didn’t say anything. Because he was just as freaked out as she was. He’d never admit he was worrying about Dad. But she knew. Nick said he hated Dad, and maybe he did. But part of him still hoped their dad would come home and somehow everything would be okay again.
“You gonna keep it together?” she asked softly.
“What, pretend Dad isn’t an asshole because he had an accident? Or be cool with pretending his kid is somehow worth my time when I was never worth his?” Nick stopped, staring down at her. “Can I say no? Because I’d like to say no. And maybe, ‘screw you, Dad.’” His eyes glistened, but then he tore his gaze from hers and stared at the oblong tiles lining the ceiling overhead.
Honor didn’t say anything as she took his hand in hers. Because, deep down, a small part of her agreed with everything her brother said.
Chapter Two
Felicity stared down at Jack. Why did he have to look like one of hers? He was slimmer—her toddlers had been round, sturdy, and laughing. But still, the resemblance between this little boy and Matt—Honor and Nick—was undeniable. And it knocked the air from her lungs. The longer she looked at the boy, the harder it was to keep it together.
“Matt,” she whispered. Saying his name stirred up emotions she’d spent the better part of the last two years locking away until she was stronger. Which was not now. “Fight. Don’t you dare leave him.” Or us. Not again.
Matt was wrong. He’d be fine, he had to be. Because, if he wasn’t… He was wrong.
Until then, she’d stay here with Jack. He shouldn’t wake up alone. And she shouldn’t cry anymore. Right. She sniffed, knowing it was a losing battle. Still, baby Jack shouldn’t wake up to tears.
Poor little guy.
After a brief hesitation, she sat on the bedside, wincing as the mattress shifted beneath him. Every muscle tightened, not wanting to hurt him. He might be unconscious, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t feel. But, dammit, she couldn’t just stand there. He looked so small. So helpless and alone. No baby should feel alone. Her fingers slid across the blanket until she reached his hand. It fit inside hers. Small. Motionless.
She knew nothing about Jack.
Did he have a middle name? A favorite toy? Or blanket? Food allergies? What words did he know? What sort of temperament did he have? He was probably walking. If he was anything like his siblings, he was running by now. Her gaze traveled over the thick white plaster cast that started right beneath his breast bone.
Something about how still he was, how pale, terrified her.
“Your little fingers are cold.” She rubbed his hand between both of hers and scooted closer, smoothing the blankets over him. “How about we get you some more blankets? Sound good?” She pressed the nurse’s button, pulling her vibrating phone from her pocket as she did so.
Her mother—known to everyone simply as Mimi—and Matt’s most devoted hate-fan. Felicity glanced at Jack, the clock on the wall, and the picture of her smiling parents on her phone in a matter of seconds.
The nurse’s voice came through the speaker. “Yes?”
“Can we get some more blankets, please?” she asked.
“Sure.” The static clicked off.
Felicity stared at the phone. She might as well answer. If she didn’t, the calls would just keep coming. And, it would be nice to have them here—with her and the kids.