The Doctor's Secret Son

His gaze cut to Chrissie’s red-rimmed eyes, her swollen face, and emotion swamped him. If Joss didn’t pull through, she would never forgive him.

If Joss didn’t pull through, Trace would never forgive himself.

* * *

Once Joss was in recovery, the hospital staff allowed Chrissie and Trace back to see him.

Trace felt the curious stares. No wonder. Chrissie worked here. Anyone who knew her knew she was a single mom, yet here he was, claiming to be Joss’s father, giving blood.

Claiming to be Joss’s father.

He was his father.

He hadn’t needed a DNA test. Joss’s eyes had been enough to convince him. If he had needed more proof, Joss’s blood type would have been all he’d have needed.

“Joss, baby, Mommy is here,” Chrissie cooed over and over in a soft voice as she held Joss’s hand and waited for him to fully wake up.

His lashes fluttered.

“Mommy’s here,” she repeated.

“Mommy?” Joss said, his voice hoarse and weak. “My belly hurts.”

Trace’s insides wrenched. How many times had Joss said that earlier in the day? Too many. He’d been so determined to prove that he could take care of his son by himself and all he’d done was prove the complete opposite. He’d been wrong to take Joss to the train station, to go around Chrissie’s wishes. So very wrong.

“Yes, baby. You had surgery on your belly. It’s going to hurt for a while, but then it’ll be all better,” she promised.

Joss’s eyes closed back.

“How’s he doing?” Dr. Rodriguez asked, coming into the recovery area. “My partner did his operation, but he’s caught me up on the details.”

“Still trying to wake up,” Chrissie told him. “But you just missed him opening his eyes.”

“Poor thing,” the surgeon commiserated. “He’s going to hurt when he wakes up.”

“Yeah, he said his belly was hurting when he opened his eyes a minute ago,” Chrissie empathized, stroking her fingertip over Joss’s hand.

“Tough little guy—he had to be in a lot of pain prior to the rupture.”

Yeah, he had been but his obtuse father had thought he just didn’t want to spend the day with him and had been determined he was going to anyway.

Trace shook his head. How could he have been so stupid? So blind? So selfish?

His son could have died because of him.

Joss would have been better off if Chrissie hadn’t told Trace.

He was leaving in less than two weeks. He shouldn’t have come to Chattanooga. He would go back overseas where he could help others rather than interfere where he wasn’t wanted or needed.

* * *

“Where’s my daddy?”

At Joss’s question, Chrissie looked behind her to where Trace had been standing. The recovery room bay was now empty except for the nurse standing ten or so feet away at a computer where she was charting.

“Your daddy was here just a few minutes ago, baby,” she assured a droopy-eyed Joss. “He’s been very worried about you.”

She wasn’t sure where Trace had stepped away to, but was sure he’d be back soon.