“You watch your ass out there.”
Wyatt laughed. “Always, brother.”
Hudson pocketed his phone and headed back into the main reception area of the fifth floor. He nodded at Nurse Daniels and strode down the hall, not stopping until he reached the private wing at the end where his father was. He didn’t hesitate. He pushed open the door and entered the room.
The lighting was dim, and it took a few seconds for his eyesight to adjust. His father was asleep, and Hudson stared at him in silence, noting every detail with a clinical eye. John Blackwell still sported a full head of silver-white hair, but there was significant weight loss. It showed in the drawn features, threw shadows across skin stretched too tight over bone. His breathing sounded like shit, even with the oxygen mask in place.
Hudson shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and took a few steps forward, chest tight as if held in a vise. John Blackwell had always been a big, tough, strong man with a no-nonsense attitude and a gruff disposition. He’d ruled his sons with an iron fist that left no room for softness or coddling. To see him so less than what he’d been was more than a little unsettling for Hudson.
There were flowers on the table beside the bed, cards propped up alongside them and… Hudson blinked and walked over, bending slightly so he could get a better look. A family photograph stared up at him, and that vise in his chest tightened. It tightened hard. Christ, he remembered the day like it just happened. They’d gone out for a day of fishing, just John and the boys. For a bunch of kids starving for the affection of their father, it had been a day to cherish.
The three of them stood side by side in the boat, each of them holding up their catch, while behind them, their father grinned, a relatively elusive thing back then. In the picture, Hudson wasn’t looking at the camera but up at his father.
A knot formed in his throat, and he took a step back. Hudson could still feel the yearning, the need for a connection lost.
He gave himself a mental shake and pulled up a chair. He sat beside the bed, stretching out his long legs and resting his eyes as he settled in to wait. He didn’t have to wait long.
“Hudson?”
The voice was weak, a little rough and hesitant. Hudson’s eyes flew open, and he got to his feet so that he stood beside the bed. His father yanked off
the oxygen mask, and pale blue eyes stared up at him.
“Hey, Dad.”
John Blackwell let out a shaky breath and with lips pursed, struggled to get to a sitting position. Hudson would have helped, but his father wouldn’t have it. So he took a step back and watched the man until he finally managed to get the pillows just so.
“I see you’re still as stubborn as hell.” Hudson shook his head and frowned. As the oldest of the Blackwell boys, his relationship with his father was a little more complicated. Mostly because he’d been nearly ten when his mother died, and he remembered a father much different from the one he’d become.
John coughed a bit and then fell back against the pillows, his chest heaving in an effort to get air into his lungs. End-stage heart disease and emphysema would do that to a man. He took another hit from his oxygen mask.
“Who called you?” his father managed to say between coughing spells.
“Darlene.”
“Bah.” John wasn’t pleased. That much was obvious. “She shouldn’t have bothered you. I know you’re busy making sure those bastards don’t get us again.”
“Don’t worry about my job. I had some time coming.” As a special agent with the FBI, Hudson worked in homeland security. He loved his job. Loved the guys he worked with and, truth be told, if Darlene hadn’t called to tell him his father was on his deathbed, no way would he be back in Crystal Lake.
In fact, Darlene had made a point of telling him it had been exactly twelve years since he’d stepped foot in this town and that it was damn time he rectified that. Technically she was wrong but then no one knew about his return trip, or the fact that he’d pretty much turned tail and ran as quick as he’d come back.
Darlene Smith might just be the best thing that had ever happened to the Blackwell family, but shit, there were times when she should mind her own business. Not that Hudson would ever tell her that. She just might show him the back of her hand.
He smiled at the thought.
“What about the other boys?” John’s voice was a bit stronger now, and Hudson offered him the glass of water sitting on the tray beside the bed.
“They’re tied up right now.” It was the truth…a sad truth nonetheless.
His father was silent for a few moments, his chest heaving and rattling as he moved to get more comfortable. “You here for long?”
Hudson considered his answer for a few seconds. “As long as need be.”
For the first time, a small smile touched his father’s lips. “You mean until I’m gone.”
“Yeah. That’s pretty much it.” They’d always had a no-bullshit relationship, so there didn’t seem to be a point in sugarcoating things now.
“You staying at the house?”