She didn’t glance up as he dropped into the chair next to hers. Neither did she acknowledge him in any way. Which was an acknowledgement of its own. One that said, Go away.
“Tell me about Justice’s birth.”
She didn’t look up, just closed her eyes and swallowed.
“Please,” he added, when she didn’t say anything.
“What would you like to know?”
“Everything.”
“I went into labor at seven months and had to have a Cesarean section when Justice got into trouble. He was in the hospital for six weeks after his birth but other than being a little small for his age he’s fully recovered.”
To look at his son one would never know that he’d once fought for life.
Ross pictured what Justice must have looked like, a premature infant hooked to multiple tubes and wires, and the image gutted him. How much worse it must have been for Brielle to have lived each day with their son’s life teetering on the edge. How much worse that she had to endure that alone.
“Was Vann with you?”
“He’d meant to be in the delivery room, but everything happened so fast that I delivered alone. He stayed with me afterwards, helped me keep focused on what was important—Justice. I couldn’t have made it through that time without him.”
“You could have, but I’m glad you didn’t have to, that he was there for you.”
He didn’t say it was because he hadn’t been there. He didn’t have to. They both finished the sentence in their heads.
Brielle swallowed, then stood. “I can’t do this. Not right now.” She glanced around the emergency room as if searching for something to do, but there weren’t any new patients and the ones currently in bays had more than sufficient nursing care already. “I...I need to go to the bathroom.”
“Or anywhere I’m not,” he added for her, as she rushed away from him.
Ross couldn’t say coming to Bean’s Creek was a mistake. It hadn’t been. But coming here, thinking that Brielle could ever forgive him, had been foolish.
Perhaps too much had happened for them to ever be able to forgive each other, but somehow for Justice’s sake they had to at least try.
* * *
A week later Brielle stared across the breakfast table at a local diner where Ross and Justice sat. Much as he had since Ross had entered his life, Justice had insisted on sitting beside Ross. He couldn’t seem to get enough of his father and thus far Ross hadn’t seemed to mind. Actually, he seemed to soak up every morsel of Justice’s attention and want more.
When Justice struggled to cut up his pancakes, Brielle automatically reached for his plate, meaning to cut them into bite-sized pieces, as she usually did.
“No, my daddy will do it.”
Brielle froze, her gaze going to Ross’s then lowering because she didn’t want him to see how her son’s words had affected her. She wasn’t quite sure how to label her emotions, but for Justice’s sake she just smiled and nodded.
“That’s fine, Justice. Your dad can cut your pancakes for you.”
For the most part she may as well not even be at the table and they wouldn’t miss her. Although her son knew she was there, he was all over his new-found father. With the dogged persistence of a curious four-year-old he drilled Ross with question after question, although some of them he’d asked Ross more than a dozen times since his arrival in their lives.
Ross patiently answered each one, never seeming to tire of Justice’s boundless energy and curiosity.
Where have you been?
Where’s Boston?
Do you have other kids?
Brielle’s heart stopped on that one. Never had she considered the possibility that Ross might have had other children along the way.
“No other kids, just you.” Ross’s gaze met Brielle’s. “At least, no other kids that I know of.”