"I should have been with him," Jack mumbled. "I sent him off to eat lunch so I could talk to you. He should have been my first priority."
"Oh, Jack, sweetheart. How many times have you sent Sam off to have lunch?"
He nodded. "I know. And nothing ever happened. But this time...."
Holly smoothed Jack’s rumpled hair. "Don’t blame yourself. Please. He’s going to be all right. Just thank God for that and move on, okay?"
He nodded into his hands. Holly knelt in front of him and lifted his face to meet her gaze. "This isn’t your fault."
It wasn’t. It was hers. It was hers for leaving in the first place, and then coming back. She’d kept his attention away from his son.
No, she couldn’t think like that. It was no one’s fault. Things happen. Her cancer was no one’s fault.
She leaned forward and brushed her lips lightly across his. Maybe this was the time, after all. She thumbed his stubbled cheek, and then kissed him again. "I love you," she whispered against his mouth.
Before he could respond, she escaped the waiting room.
* * * *
He’d murmured a husky "thank you" when she left his bag of clothes and sundries. He’d looked at the container of Italian takeout with glazed eyes, but she’d thrust it into his hands anyway.
"What do you need, Jack?" she’d asked. "I’ll do anything for you. For Sam. I’ll stay here all night if you want."
He’d shaken his head. "Just go home. I need to be alone with my son."
She’d left, her heart in her throat. He hadn’t told her he loved her. Perhaps he didn’t. It served her right, anyway.
Now she sat in front of her computer, staring at the blank Cougar Club chatroom. It was nearing midnight on a holiday. Of course no one would be there. They were probably all with their cubs, having a high old time.
Holly drew in a deep breath, flicked off her computer and padded into her bedroom. She flopped onto her bed and cried into the pillow that smelled like Jack.
* * * *
/> The next few days passed in a fog. Holly went to work, came home and cried herself to sleep. She skipped both her art classes, something she never did. Her heart wasn’t in it.
No word from Jack. She’d tried calling him several times, only to get the endless wails of Glen Campbell. Why didn’t he have voicemail? Didn’t everyone have voicemail these days? Still, she called.
Her mind buzzed with unlikely scenarios. What if Sam had taken a turn for the worse? What if the doctors had been wrong, and he’d been bleeding internally? And they’d found it too late?
Nausea churned in her belly.
Damn it! She loved that little boy, too. Why didn’t Jack at least call her to tell her how Sam was doing?
If Jack had decided to let her go, she could live with that. She had no choice, but she needed to know Sam was okay.
Enough was enough. Friday afternoon, she left her office early and drove home to pack a bag. She was driving out to Jack’s ranch. He might tell her to take a hike, but by God she’d know if he and Sam were all right. Fear gnawed at her during the long drive out of town.
She gathered her courage as she pulled into the long driveway at Jack’s ranch house. Was she sticking her nose in where it didn’t belong? Was his indifference his polite way of telling her to get lost?
She breathed in. It was possible, but it didn’t matter. She had to know Sam was okay.
Leaving her bag in the car—she didn’t want to appear too eager—she trudged to the door and knocked.
She pasted a smiled on her face when Luisa answered.
"Holly, buenos dias."
"Hello, Luisa."