Before death.
“And what was that? Your cool new racecar bed?” I joke.
“I got to meet you.”
I wrap my other arm around him and lay my head on top of his. He smells clean, like a fresh shower, but underneath there is this heavy musk of illness. I sniffle and shake my head in denial. “I love you.” I kiss the top of his smooth head. “I won’t give up on you. You just have to hang on a little bit longer, okay?”
“Mmmkay.” He yawns. “I’m going to take a nap. I’m sleepy.”
“I’ll stay here until you fall asleep.” So I know he is still breathing when I leave. How did he take a turn so fast? He was fine when he got here. Fine as someone could be with cancer. How did months left with him turn to weeks? I don’t understand it. I thought the treatments would buy us time, but they didn’t do the job they needed to do.
My chest shakes uncontrollably as I clutch onto his head and hold him to my chest. I squeeze my eyes shut and let the sadness, the heaviness of it all bear down on me, and I break. I hold on to him tight, place one last kiss on his head, and lay him on his bed before jerking my mask off and walk out the door. No one can be allowed in besides me and the doctor, doctor’s orders. Since Dillon’s immune system is nonexistent, the less people Dillon comes into contact with, the better.
I bet Dillon feels so lonely.
Shutting his bedroom door behind me, I slide down it and feel completely wrung out. My energy is depleted. The last few weeks have been a whirlwind of the best emotions in my entire life, and now they are crashing down.
Everything always comes crashing down.
I settle my elbows on my knees and hang my head, giving into the stress and anger, the depression and sorrow. I let it all out. I’m fucking sick of pretending I know how to be strong when I’m so fucking lost, I don’t know which way is up. My heart feels like it’s being ripped out of my chest and stepped on. The hopelessness is unimaginable. When someone imagines having kids, do they expect a healthy child with no health problems? Do they expect an easy ride with no hiccups? I’ll say this, when I planned on having a kid, I planned on his or her health being smooth sailing.
How naïve is that?
A pair of expensive dress shoes come to view by my feet and I look up to see Zeke, all the guys, and Finley.
I rub my fingers over my eyes. “Not now, guys. Okay? I need space. I need a fucking minute. Just give me a goddamn minute!” I want them to let me be. Not Finley. Finley can stay. Always.
Zeke squats down and grips the back of my neck with his hand. His stare is intense, but the smile on his face speaks victory. “We found Kendall.”
Through watery lashes, I stand on shaky legs and slap my hands on his shoulders. “What did you just say?”
“We found her, Grayson.” Zeke’s eyes water too, and everyone around me is emotional. I guess kids have that effect on everyone. At least I know I’m not a complete sap.
Okay, I am. Whatever. I’m not afraid to pull a trigger, and at the end of the day, that’s all that fucking matters.
“You found her.” I drift my eyes to the doctor and see how he’s reacting. He signed an NDA. He knows whatever happens in this house isn’t allowed to be repeated. I need to know he is going to be okay with what is going to go down. “Really?” I look at Sebastian next, and he nods.
“Found Trevor too,” Sebastian informs and tosses Finley her phone. “By the way, Grayson is an upgrade.”
She catches her phone mid-air and grins, sliding it into her back pocket. “I know.” She stares at me with nothing but love, and when I reach my arm out, she tucks herself into my side like always.
I like that. I like that she comes to me when I need her.
“And the best part,” Zeke states. “Both of them are here in Trinidad.”
“Kendall is here? Why?” My hackles raise, and I open Dillon’s door to make sure he’s still asleep and safe, then close it again. “Why would she be here? I know Maggie said she was looking to get Dillon back, but Maggie couldn’t find her.”
“Maggie doesn’t have the same resources as I do,” Sebastian says. “Kendall is here. After some digging, I found that she’s in a load of debt and she’s been in contact with someone who likes to buy sick kids.”
“What?” My stomach drops to my feet thinking about Dillon being in the hands of his mother for one second. “Why?”
“His name is Douglas Atropine. He is a mafia boss down in L.A. He has never been directly charged with anything, just pages of speculation and charges that fell through because someone ended up dying if they ratted him out. He doesn’t sell the kids.”
Not going to lie, the first thing I think of is a mafia boss doing something good. Maybe he pays for the kid’s treatment.
“He likes to kill them himself.”
“He what? She was going to sell my fucking son to some perv? How do you know he does this? Is it speculation?” I can’t wait to get my hands around her throat. That is it. I’m going to kill that bitch.