Did she want him to?
The chances of her having another child who died were slim to none. Her doctor had told her so years ago. Braydon’s malformation had had no basis in genetics. They’d run all the tests.
During her time at the children’s hospital in Phoenix she’d helped several families with more than one long-term-care child. Their medical conditions were mostly due to genetics or drugs. But not always.
“The doctor will give you another list of things that could go wrong,” she told Jon now. “It will be really important that you keep up with regular checks,” she told him. “If the tubes come out too early, or are left in too long, hearing loss could result.”
Frowning, Jon sat. “He could still go deaf?”
“Maybe not completely, but he could experience some loss. The chances are slim,” she told him, thinking about Bray again. “As long as he has regular checks.”
This wasn’t about her. “We don’t miss his checkups. Ever.”
“We’ll need to watch for any signs of bleeding or infection, or persistent drainage of fluid,” she added. “Blood, mucus and other secretions can block the tubes.”
The doctor would tell him all of this but sometimes the information got lost in the telling or seemed overwhelming if you weren’t prepared. That was where she came in.
Crossing one leg over his knee, Jon smiled at her.
“What?”
“You said ‘we.’”
She had. Subconsciously. “Yes, well...”
Lillie had no idea what she was going to say. And didn’t get a chance to say anything, as they were interrupted by a commotion in the hallway outside.
“Lillie?”
Haley, one of the full-time clinic receptionists, poked her head inside Lillie’s door. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you weren’t alone.”
Lillie didn’t usually have clients in her office. They had their meetings in procedure and exam rooms.
“No problem, Haley. What’s up?”
The door opened farther and Sheriff Richards was there. “I’m looking for Jon Swartz, Lil,” he said. “I tried him at work, and they said his son was having a procedure here today, but he’s not out in the waiting room. Bonnie had mentioned that you and he were friends....”
“He’s right here, Sheriff.”
Jon wasn’t smiling. In fact, the hardened expression on his face made him unrecognizable to her. And she knew, just knew, that he’d kept secrets from her, after all.
* * *
JON HAD WOKEN up that morning knowing that it was going to be a hard day. He’d had no idea how hard.
“Jon Swartz?” The uniformed sheriff did not resemble, in any way, the kindly man Jon had heard about.
He was all cop. And Jon knew this drill. Years fell away as his heart froze and he stood, put his h
ands behind his back.
He’d known this was coming. Some part of him had known.
“I’d like to ask you a few questions.” He heard the sheriff’s voice, waiting to feel the steel cuffs close around his wrists.
Warm flesh curved around his upper arm instead—the sheriff’s hand, not a locking piece of metal. Richards guided Jon back down to the chair and then took the seat beside him.
The sheriff was obviously playing nice for Lillie’s sake, but Jon was certain his tight grip hadn’t been a mistake.