Waiting On You (Blue Heron #3)(112)

The room felt different now, heavy with the sound of Joe’s labored breathing. His uncle’s face was puffy, and he appeared to be sleeping.

Bryce hesitated in the doorway.

“Joe? We’re here,” Lucas said. He went to his uncle’s bedside and took his hand, gesturing for Bryce to come closer. Bryce stayed put.

“Hi,” Joe whispered. He opened his eyes with effort, and saw Bryce. “Hi, honey-boy,” he said.

Bryce took a shuddering breath. “Hey, Dad.”

“Come on over here,” Joe said, and Bryce obeyed, tears sliding down his face.

“Oh, Dad. Please don’t die.” There was a note of panic in his voice, poor kid. Bryce sat down in the bedside chair and took his father’s hand.

“I’m sorry about this, son,” Joe whispered. There was a rattle in his breathing now.

Lucas moved to Joe’s other side and put a hand on his shoulder. “What can we do for you, Joe?” he asked.

He hadn’t been able to say goodbye to his own father, but he was here now.

His uncle looked up. “Lucas...” He closed his eyes for a moment. “Would you mind...leaving Bryce and me alone?”

Lucas blinked. He glanced at his cousin, who was sobbing softly, his head on his father’s arm. “Um...sure. Of course.” He paused, leaned down and kissed his uncle’s forehead. “Thank you, Joe,” he whispered. “For taking me in.”

But Joe’s eyes were on his son, and so Lucas had nothing left to do but obey, the door wheezing shut behind him.

The hallway was dark and quiet. A nurse went by, her eyes kind.

He could call Colleen. She’d wait with him.

He had no one else, after all.

Instead, he just stood there. After a while, he sat, looking at the closed door, and it was hard to breathe because of the pain in his chest, like a cold, thick spike had been driven through it.

He’d call Steph after it was over. Didi, too, and Ellen. He’d do what needed to be done, what Joe had asked him to do, and then he wanted to leave this little town and not come back, because all he’d ever been here was an outsider, an impostor.

Except with Colleen.

The door opened, and Lucas lurched to his feet.

“He’s gone,” Bryce said. “He’s really gone.”

He burst into racking sobs, and Lucas opened his arms and hugged his cousin.

He could see Joe in the bed, undeniably still.

“I got to tell him about my job,” Bryce wept, “and he said he was proud of me, and I was an entrepreneur, like him, and I’d do great.”

“Good. I’m glad.”

“You know what else he said?” Bryce said wetly, pulling back to mop his face.

“What’s that, buddy?”

“He said I was everything he ever hoped for in a son.” Bryce’s face crumpled again.

“Hi,” said the kindly nurse. “Do you need some more time with your dad, boys?”

“He’s my dad,” Bryce corrected. “Not his.”

And that about summed it up.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

COLLEEN HAD JUST come out of the shower and was contemplating a binge of Ben & Jerry’s to help resist the urge to call Lucas. He had shit going on and didn’t need her bugging him with stupid texts like Thinking of you! or Hey, wanna come over? And it was 1:33 a.m. He could well be asleep, and it had hurt her heart to see how tired he looked earlier.

Yep. Ben & Jerry’s it was, the only two men who’d never let her down. Vanilla Heath Bar, or Peanut Brittle? Peanut Brittle it was, the crystal meth of the ice cream world. She’d bought eleven pints last week, terrified that Faith would hit the market first and clean them out.

Rufus lumbered to his feet. Ah rah! Ah rah! Ah rooroo rah! he bellowed in his mighty baritone. Sure enough, a knock came at the door.

She tossed the ice cream back in the freezer and opened the door.

It was Lucas, and those pirate eyes were unbearably sad.

“Oh, honey,” she said, and wrapped her arms around him because it was written all over his face.

“He’s gone,” Lucas said. He let her hold him, but he seemed...lost.

Ah rah! Ah rah roo! her beastie said.

“Come in,” she murmured. “Are you hungry? Want a drink?”

“No. Colleen—” He stopped. She waited.

He didn’t continue.

Rufus, however, began his typical “are you a boy or a girl” investigation. “Okay, Rufus, no. Go away, boy.”

Her dog obeyed. Lucas, however, just stood there.

Shit. A white-hot brand of fear and guilt rammed through her heart. He knew. Oh, sphincter, he knew. Maybe she should’ve told him before, but—

“I need to tell you something.”

She swallowed, her throat so dry it clacked. She wished she was wearing something other than a Tweety Bird T-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts.

“Um...want to sit down?”

“No.” He just looked at her, then rather shockingly cupped her face in his hands. “Colleen...the only thing that’s ever really been mine is you.”

God. The words hit her like a sledgehammer. A good sledgehammer. “Oh, Spaniard,” she whispered.

“When I was a kid, I only remember my mom being sick, and then my dad worked all the time, and Steph was always out with some guy. And then when I came to live with Didi and Joe—” He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I didn’t belong there, and Didi made sure I knew it.”