The Doctor's Secret Son

Looking quite miserable, Joss asked, “Can I have my juice?”

Counting to ten, Trace dug into the bag and pulled out one of the juice boxes. “Here ya go, pal.”

Joss took the juice box, staring at it expectantly, then back up at Trace. Did Chrissie open the boxes? He hadn’t noticed her doing so, but Joss was waiting for him to do something and putting the straw in seemed the most likely.

“Can I get that for you?” he asked, not wanting to offend if he was misreading his son.

Joss nodded, then shook his head. “I’m not thirsty now.”

Trace wasn’t going to argue. He took the box and put it back into the insulated side pocket of the bag. “Fine. You can have it later.”

He wanted to take the top off his car, but decided he’d save that for another day. A day when Joss was showing a little more excitement regarding riding with him. Today, the boy looked two steps away from crying.

He probably was.

He’d asked for Chrissie more than a dozen times and had looked devastated when he’d realized she had gone to work and left him alone with Trace.

He’d even asked about going to his nanna’s and had looked disappointed when Trace had said they’d be spending the day together and would see his nanna later that afternoon.

Apparently, despite the gains made the previous day, Trace still wasn’t worthy of spending the day alone with.

Maybe that was to be expected. He was still essentially a stranger and Joss wasn’t used to staying with him. No problem. They were going to have a great first father-son day. They had to start somewhere and that somewhere was today.

Only Joss didn’t seem as eager to get things going.

Nor did he want to walk when Trace got him out of the car at the hotel where he’d buy the tickets for their train ride.

“Fine, I’ll carry you.” After all, that was what Chrissie had done when the boy had clung to her. He’d enjoy a little Joss clinging to him.

Not that Joss planned to give him the opportunity.

“I don’t want you to carry me. I want to go home.”

“We’re going to ride the train, then we’ll get some lunch, then, if you still want to go home—” and he hoped the boy wasn’t in a rush by that time “—then we’ll go home.”

Looking on the verge of crying, Joss let his lower lip droop. “My belly hurts.”

Lord, help me, Trace prayed. Help me do and say the right things to make this child trust me and care for me.

“That’s what happens when you don’t eat,” Trace reminded him gently. “Would you like some of your juice and cereal now while I buy our tickets? You’ll feel better after you eat something.”

Joss looked hesitant, but nodded. Trace dug out a juice box and container of dry cereal and handed them to his son.

Joss stared up at him in confusion.

Oh, yeah, he needed to pop the straw into the juice box. He did so, then handed it back to his son.

Joss frowned, handed him the container of cereal back, then took the juice container with both hands.

After he’d taken a drink, he handed the juice box back to Trace.

“Thank you,” the boy said, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth.

Trace took the drink box. Which left the bag draped over Trace’s shoulder and the juice box and cereal in his hands. He dropped the cereal back into the bag, held onto the juice, then reached for Joss.

He’d text Chrissie’s mother in a few, after they got the tickets.

“You want me to carry you?” he offered, hoping his eagerness didn’t come through to the point of scaring Joss.