The Doctor's Secret Son

Joss’s lower lip disappeared between his teeth and he shook his head.

Trace would have been better off

carrying the boy though, because Joss moved at the slowest speed Trace had ever seen him move. He kept a hold on Joss’s hand and tried not to say too much when Joss wriggled.

Tried to focus on the fact that, although Joss wouldn’t let him carry him, the boy was holding his hand, something he wouldn’t do just a few days ago.

Besides, they still had a good thirty minutes to explore the trains before theirs took off so what did it matter if they took a little longer getting their tickets?

Things went downhill fast once they were actually on the train and moving, though.

Joss began to cry, repeatedly asking for Chrissie. No doubt the other passengers wondered if he was some pervert having kidnapped Joss as he refused to be consoled.

“Joss, we’ll go see your mommy when we’re through with the train ride.”

Joss’s tears didn’t let up and his little body shook with his distress.

Trace shouldn’t have been surprised when the juice Joss had drunk came back up, splattering over the hem of Trace’s T-shirt, soaking his shorts, and running down his legs and splattering onto Joss’s T-shirt and shorts as well.

Good grief. He hadn’t realized Joss had drunk that much of the juice.

Joss’s little face looked horrified at what he’d done, almost fearful of how Trace was going to react as his gaze lifted.

Protectiveness surged through him, making him want to hug the boy to him and reassure him.

“It’s okay, buddy. You threw up because you got so upset crying. Try to calm down. I’ll get you and this mess cleaned up. No big deal.” He had the package of wipes in the bag, plus he’d seen a change of clothes in the bag when he’d rummaged through it that morning.

Joss sucked in a sobbing breath, the tears still flowing.

“Shh, it’s going to be okay,” Trace repeated, gently touching his son’s face in hopes of comforting him.

His skin felt on fire and a cold, cold fear gripped Trace.

One that the last time he recalled feeling was when a bomb had gone off and he’d awakened from a nightmare where coworkers and innocent people had senselessly died and many more, including himself, had been injured.

Joss grabbed hold of his right lower abdomen and cried out as if in intense pain.

Please let me be wrong. Please.

He didn’t want his son ill. He didn’t want to explain to Chrissie how he’d misread everything their son had done that morning and ignored that Joss had appendicitis.

Dear God, please don’t let someone else he loved die on his watch.

* * *

“You thought I wouldn’t stop by the hospital when you’re finally not with him so we can talk?” Savannah gave Chrissie a duh look.

Chrissie blinked at her best friend. She’d clocked out and gone on break after her friend had shown up in the CVICU. They’d gone down to the hospital cafeteria. It was early, but Chrissie had grabbed a yogurt as she’d take this as her break. Thank goodness the unit was slow that morning so she could escape for a little while with Savannah.

Or maybe not so good as her friend’s expression warned she wanted every minute detail of the previous four days. She’d already called her mother, who was running a little late as Chrissie had caught her on her way out of her house, and given her the five-minute study-guide version.

“Um...no, I didn’t think you’d show up at work today. Would serve you right if I had you clock in and work the rest of the day,” she half teased. Part of her would like to beg her friend to cover the rest of her shift so Chrissie could leave and check on Trace and Joss. They were fine, of course. She was just being an overprotective mom. Besides, her mother would be with them soon. “Does Charlie have Amelia?”

Savannah nodded. “He’s watching her while I go to the grocery store and run errands. He says I need to be sure to take ‘me’ time.”

See—Savannah trusted Charlie with Amelia. A dad watching their child was perfectly normal. So why had Chrissie’s gut been cramping all morning?

“Confronting me at work falls under the category of ‘me’ time?”