You Make Me Weak (The Blackwells of Crystal Lake 1)

“I am.”

“Good.” John Blackwell’s eyes narrowed. “You been by the office yet?”

The office. The family business that had caused so much discord between himself, his brothers, and his father.

Tight-lipped, he shook his head. “Not yet, but I’ll swing by tomorrow and make sure everything is running the way it’s supposed to.”

“You better.” Voice noticeably weaker, John stifled a cough. “Sam Waters is in charge right now because there’s no one else. He’s adequate, but hell, I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him. And the man weighs damn near three hundred pounds.”

Sam Waters had been his father’s right-hand man for as long as Hudson could remember, and the man was more than adequate. The Blackwell holdings were diverse, the pockets deep, and there were many safeguards in place to protect the family fortune. He highly doubted the man would be the kind to steal from the hand that fed him.

“I wouldn’t worry about Sam, but to ease your mind, I’ll make sure everything’s on the up and up.”

His father nodded, seemingly exhausted, though his eyes burned with a feverish glint. Outside the room, phones rang and muted voices could be heard. But in here, cocooned in a space of illness and unspoken words, there was only silence.

“I’m glad you’re here, son.”

Hudson’s throat tightened, and he took a step closer to the bed, but whatever words he would have said died when the door flew open and a nurse walked into the room. She was middle-aged, with a kind, round face, complemented by an equally round figure, an ample chest, and small feet. Her hair, shot through with slivers of gray, was scraped back into a ponytail, and she smiled when she spied Hudson.

“My word, John. This must be one of your handsome boys.” Her accent was Southern, and he knew she wasn’t from the area. She hustled over to the bed and unwrapped the stethoscope from around her neck. She glanced back at Hudson. “I just have to have a listen, and while I’m doing that, the doctor is outside. I know she’d like to speak to you.”

With a curt nod, Hudson exited the room and found a tall, slender brunette chatting with a bunch of nurses at reception. She turned and smiled when she saw him.

“Hudson.”

Okay. Killer body. Great legs. Nice smile. Green eyes that looked familiar. But who the hell was she?

Her smile widened as she walked toward him. “You don’t know who I am, do you?”

“You got me there.”

She stood a few inches from him now, a slow smile curving her generous mouth. “I’m Adam Thorne’s sister. Regan.”

Damn right she was. Those eyes, the same ones that Adam had. If he remembered correctly, she was a couple of years younger than him. Although…

“You look a lot different than I remember.”

She laughed. “I sure hope so. The last time I saw you, I had braces, acne, and was on the chubby side. Puberty wasn’t exactly my friend.”

An image of an overweight, shy girl came to mind. “You decided to stay in Crystal Lake.”

Her smile widened. “I like it here.” She shrugged. “I had no reason to leave.” Her smile faltered a bit. “We should talk.” She motioned to the lounge, and he followed her over. Once there, she shoved her hands into the pockets of her white jacket and got down to business.

“So, your father isn’t doing well.”

There it was. The cold, hard truth. “I can see that.”

“He’s got fluid on his lungs and heart, his oxygen levels aren’t great, and we’re pretty sure he’s got another blockage in his arteries.”

“Can’t you unblock it like last time?”

Regan sighed. “I’m not sure your father will survive another surgery. His heart is weak, and he’s been sick. If we can get him stronger, more stable, then it could be an option but…” Her large eyes were expressive, and he knew the deal.

“You don’t think it will matter.”

“I’m sorry, Hudson. I don’t think he’ll live long enough to find out. There’s always a chance. Always hope. But I like my patients and their families to know the reality of the situation, and right now, it’s not good.”

Hudson exhaled and glanced back at the door leading to his father’s private room. “He’s a tough son of a bitch.”