Cherished (Steel Brothers Saga 17)

“Great, great. He was a damned millionaire. Who cares?”

“He wasn’t as rich as your father, but close.”

I stop my jaw from dropping. Does he have any clue how much the Steels are worth? Because if this guy was close, he was a billionaire. Or close to being one.

“What kind of outside investments?” I ask hesitantly.

“I didn’t know at the time, but I found out. They were mostly illegal.”

“So your uncle was a crook. So what?”

“I didn’t know that at the time,” he says, his voice cracking. He begins to pant and then he wipes at his face, knocking the nasal cannula out of his nose.

Beeping again. I stand and look at the machines. His pulse ox is down to eighty. The same nurse scurries in once more.

“Mr. Jolly, you’ve got to keep this on.” She adjusts the cannula. “Are you going to behave yourself now?”

Right, I say to myself.

She looks to me. “Have you finished your business yet? He’s very tired.”

I move to open my mouth, but Floyd speaks first.

“No, he’s not done here.”

The nurse sighs. “Very well, but try to stay still, okay?” She whisks back out the door.

“Get on with it,” I say, not kindly.

“If I could relive the next few moments I’m going to tell you about, I’d never go to my uncle. I’d live on the streets, die on the streets.”

“Maybe it would have helped you,” I say. “I know a young woman who grew up homeless, and she’s bright and hardworking and the most amazing person I’ve ever met.”

Floyd turns, finally, meeting my gaze. His green eyes are bloodshot and watery, but still I can see myself in them. I see the man who fathered me. The man who once looked a lot like me. Tall, broad, blond.

And now he’s a shadow of his former self. Booze and pills will do that.

“You’re in love,” he finally says.

I say nothing.

“Don’t try to deny it. I see that look in your eyes when you speak of your young lady. Don’t let her get away, son.”

I widen my eyes at his use of the endearment. I’m no more his son than the guy across the hall. Only genetically.

“My personal life isn’t any of your business,” I say.

“I won’t argue with you on that.” He turns away and resumes staring straight ahead. “I should get on with it, I guess.”

“I really wish you would.”

“My biggest regret is that I went to see Uncle Fred that day.”

“Biggest? Really? Bigger than abandoning your kids and their mother?”

“Yes.”

I shake my head and stand. “Unbelievable. I’m out of here.”

“For God’s sake, Dale, sit down!”

That voice again. So like my own when I’m angry. When I’m trying so hard to be understood.

So again, I sit. I’ll hear him out. He’ll be dead soon anyway.

“You have two more minutes,” I say, “and then I’m going.”

“Good enough.” He coughs and sputters once more but gains control. “I went to Uncle Fred for money. I needed a fresh start. I already found a rehab place that would take me, but of course I couldn’t afford it. I needed five thousand dollars to get in the door. Once there, I could apply for state funding as an indigent.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Well, that’s what I was told at the time. I was strung out, ready to go through withdrawal, and I believed what anyone told me. So I went to Uncle Fred.”

“And your rich uncle told you to take a hike?”

He shakes his head. “How I wish he had. No, he said he’d give me the money, but that I needed to do something for him in return.”

“Bartering. Sure. The man wasn’t stupid. What the hell could a strung-out alcoholic and junkie have that your rich uncle wanted?”

He closes his mouth and then his eyes. The beeps on one of his machines increase in speed. His heart is pounding rapidly. Why? I have no idea.

Finally, he opens his eyes and turns to gaze at me. Then, apparently thinking better of it, he cocks his head back and stares straight ahead.

“What did he want from me?” he says.

“Yeah. What the hell could you possibly have that he wanted?”

Another pause that seems to go on for years. Then—

“You. He wanted your brother and you.”

Somewhere in the air, words hang and voices echo.

You. He wanted your brother and you.

“So… You’re telling me…” No. Can’t let the thought form in my mind. Can’t. Just can’t.

“I told you a lot of his investments were illegal,” Floyd finally goes on.

Illegal. Yeah. Immoral. All that shit. But get to the goddamned point!

None of this makes it past my lips. I’m numb. My lips won’t open, and if they don’t open soon, I may explode on the spot and all the vileness will spew out of me.

Still numb.

Fucking numb.

Somewhere outside of the bubble I’m sitting in, Floyd is still speaking.