Stay(36)

“I’m not a hero. You said so yourself.” He puts his hands on my upper arms just before he pulls me against his chest. It’s a warm and comforting hug. He smells so good, and I slide my hands around his narrow waist. His deep voice vibrates against my cheek. “I care about Eli. I want to make this right. You will not argue with me. You’ll do as I say.”

My jaw clenches. Him saying those words makes me want to argue.

He doesn’t give me the chance. “Stop being stubborn and say yes.”

Looking down, I give his proposal one final thought before I concede. “Okay, Yes. I’ll marry you. For your money.”





14





Stephen


When I left Lulabell in the waiting room, my memories of Ximena and what happened to her weighed heavy on my mind. All I could think about was how sick she was, and how I couldn’t do a thing to help her. She wasn’t my mother, hell, she wasn’t even in the country legally. All I could do was give her cash and pray it was used for her treatment, trust Ramon could get her what she needed.

The memory cramped my stomach and solidified my decision. I would not let it happen again. Having those doctors shove me out into the waiting room, watching The Dick bluster into that office and do everything wrong cemented what I had to do.

Yes, it’s unorthodox, but I’ve never given a shit what people think. My reasons are sound and I’m not leaving Emmy and Eli to suffer at the hands of fate or Eli’s father.

I walk to their apartment in the East Village, and it’s infuriatingly easy to jimmy the lock on her front door. I look around the small place until I find a suitcase. She’ll be able to come back here and get what she wants. In the meantime, I grab the necessities—toiletries, clothes, lace panties… Little boy underwear, pajamas, books.

Then I spot Eli’s killer whale on the bed and scoop him up. “Come on, Kona, you’re coming with me.”

Looking around one last time, I see pictures of her with Elijah, some of her and Ethan, a few that look like they were taken in college. None are of her with Burt or any other men for that matter. I pick up a photo of her and Eli she has on her nightstand and put it in the suitcase before zipping it up.

I send the case to my place with my driver before walking back to Mount Sinai, Kona in hand. Ximena’s hearing is in my mind. It was actually mediation…

It was possibly less official than that.

Edward Barton was so calm, fair, and diplomatic. Ximena was so sick and weak. My dad was such an asshole, going on about his precious Rolex like he didn’t have seven more.

Ximena was so grateful he didn’t send her son to jail. So thankful my dad didn’t report her to immigration.

The memory makes me sick to my stomach. How is it possible to be blessed with so much, yet have so little compassion for those less fortunate? Someone who’s taken care of your home and your son? Much like Ximena, my relationship with my father never recovered.



* * *



Standing in the hall outside Eli’s hospital room, I watch through the small window as Emmy puts Kona under his arm in the bed. I watch as she sits in a chair at his bedside, leaning her head on her hand, smoothing his fair hair away from his placid face. Her love for him is so strong, it reinforces my decision to help them.

Eli is asleep, but he’s no longer sedated. The doctors finished their tests, and his brain activity has returned to normal, and at this point, they don’t expect any physical side effects.

It’s after ten, and I knock gently on the door. Emmy looks up and our eyes meet. My stomach tightens at her expression. It’s gratitude, but it’s something more.

“Why are you hanging around, Hastings?” Burt’s voice is an unwelcome irritant.

Still, my voice is calm when I turn to face him. “I thought you left.”

“I’m about to. Just had to sign off on the paperwork. As his father.” He hits the word a little too hard for my taste.

“I would expect Eli’s father to take a more active interest in his well-being.”

“What the hell do you know about it?”

“Only what I observe, what I hear.”

“Is this about him playing lacrosse?” He steps closer, hooking his thumb at his chest. “Eli is my son. He’s strong, and I’m getting him out of this place. I’m taking him home with me, and I’m not having any more of this homeschool, alternative therapy, hippy-dippy shit.”

The door opens, and Emmy joins us. “What’s going on out here?” she whispers, looking up and down the hall. “I can hear your voice inside.”

“I’m taking off, but I’ll be back to see how he’s doing.”

Emmy’s lips tighten into a straight line. “How he’s doing? He’s recovering from a head injury that happened on your watch. When are you going to take this seriously?”

“I take my son having a normal life seriously. Not being treated like some… bubble boy.”

“I can’t do this anymore.” She lowers her chin, rubbing her face with her left hand.

Burt’s eyes widen, and he grabs her finger. “What’s this?”

I put my arm around Emmy’s waist and pull her closer. “We’re getting married.”

Burt’s eyes go round, and his jaw drops. “What the hell? Why am I just hearing about this?”