He’s gentle through the rugged mask he wears.
I don’t say anything to him. I want him to know I’m here. I hope my presence is enough because I know words will never be able to make him feel better. Only Dillon can make that happen.
“What the hell do I do?” he asks me in a croak. “I have no idea how to be a dad, and I barely know that kid in there, Finley. But the thought of not having him?” He rubs his chest where his heart lies underneath. “God, it kills me. It isn’t fair that I had to spend eight years away from him, not knowing he existed, and now I might not even get a week. I know it’s a cynical thing to say, but I swear, sometimes all I feel like life has done is fuck me over. I know, I have him, and that’s great. But how long? What, does life just get to say, ‘okay, you had him for a week and now we’re going to take him because I want to see you suffer?’ That’s all I feel like I’ve done is suffer. I suffered because of Kendall, and now I’m suffering because of her all over again. She chose to keep him from me, and then she turned him over to foster care? Without contacting me? I hate her. I hate her so much.” He stands quick and let’s out a frustrated noise. “I hope she dies. I hope she fucking rots in the damn ground. I’ll be the one to do it too. She was on my list before, but now that I have Dillon, I’m going to make sure she’s buried so deep she feels the flames of hell burning her fucking back.”
“You don’t mean that. That’s still his mom,” I remind him.
“No. Mothers don’t treat their kids that way. She’s just a woman who gave birth. It’s take more than that to be a mother. Don’t get me wrong, I can’t imagine how fucking painful childbirth is, but a mother’s love is what is most important, and he hasn’t had that. As long as she lives, he’ll suffer, and she’ll find a way to make me suffer. She loves to do that.”
I reach for his hand, and he slides it inside mine without question. His fingers are so big, his palm engulfs mine, and I realize in that moment he and I are cut from the same cloth. I had my revenge already, but Grayson hasn’t had his yet. He has to be biting at the bit.
“I’ll be by your side every step of the way. You want me to hold the gun to her head, I will.” I get to my feet and press my body against his and lace our hands together. “You want me to pull the trigger, I will. If it means you, me, and Dillon get to be a family in peace, then that is what I’ll do.”
I can see the murderous angst raging in his eyes. If he had the chance, I know he’d kill her right now. “You’d do that? I’d never ask you to pull the trigger,” he says.
“Why not?” I ask him, laying my hand on the side of his cheek. “I’ve done it before.” And to be honest, I’d do it again, especially if it means protecting the ones I love.
“Guys! The doctor has news,” Jaxon skids to a stop outside of the hospital doors, and Grayson kisses my palm and then tugs me behind him as he hurries inside.
The air conditioning blows over us as we enter, and chills pimple across my arms. The doctor is waiting for us at the end of the hall in green scrubs and a scrub cap. He’s an older gentleman, but not too old to wonder why he’s still operating. His hair is a mix between silver and brown, and he has permanent wrinkles between his brows, probably from focusing for so many hours during the day.
“What is it? Is he dead? Don’t let him be dead, please. He’s okay, right? Please, tell me he is okay. I… I…” Grayson mumbles to find more words to say, to beg the doctor to tell him good news.
The doctor reaches out and lays a hand on Grayson’s shoulder. “Dillon is out of surgery. He is fine. It will be awhile before he wakes up. I’m going to assume he passed out in the shower and did not slip. His white cell count is very high. I spoke with his Oncologist flying here from Portland, and he will tell you more on what to expect for the treatment plan.”
Grayson nods and rubs his chin with two fingers. “So he is okay? He’s alive? I can go see him?”
The tired surgeon places his hands on his hips in thought. “You can, but he is unconscious and will be for a day or so. I think you’re better going home—”
“I’m not leaving. No way in hell am I chancing him waking up and thinking he’s alone. He’s been alone long enough. I’m fucking staying; you hear me? I’m staying right here,” Grayson states, straightening to his full height.
“I understand, Mr. Campbell. I can take you and two other people back, but I’m afraid that’s all I can allow at the moment.”
Maggie and I step forward, ready to be the crutch Grayson needs us to be.
“Remember, it looks scarier than what it is. He’s being monitored by several machines. It’s protocol. Okay?”
“Okay,” Grayson agrees. He turns around to his family, the guys, and he clears his throat. “Thank you all for being here. It means the world.”
“Of course. Always. That’s what brothers do, right?” Jaxon hugs Grayson and pats him on the back. “Let us know if you need anything. I’ll bring you a change of clothes later today. You too, Finley.”
“Thank you,” I say to Jaxon. I hadn’t even thought of clothes.
“Call us with an update,” Heaven says.
“Yeah, I need to threaten the little guy cause he owes me a game of air hockey,” Owen grunts and pats Grayson on the shoulder before he leaves.
Grayson gives everyone a tight grin and takes the step forward to follow the doctor through the beige doors. The longer we walk, the sweatier Grayson’s palm gets, but I’m not going to let go. It’s just sweat.
“Here we are.”
“I’m sorry. You’re doctor…?” Grayson asks as his hand lands on the doorknob. “I should have asked earlier. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I understand. My name is Doctor Thomas.”
Grayson holds out his hand and stares Doctor Thomas in the eye. “Thank you for taking care of my boy. I’ll make sure to donate money to your department and get whatever else you need.”
The doctor's eyes widen, and a big smile takes over his face. “Thank you—wow—thank you. You have no idea how much that means.”