Getting Real (Getting Some #3)(76)

“I-I can’t just leave,” I stutter.

I realize I sound like a shut-in—an agoraphobic—but I don’t care. Stacey’s been here practically around the clock too, leaving only to spend time with Brayden and Spencer, so she can reconnect with them. But I haven’t left at all.

Because Aaron’s mostly out of the woods, sure, but shit could still happen—really bad shit. He could develop another fever—an infection. He could try to get out of bed and crack his head open, or he could have an allergic reaction to one of his medications. He’s not even on solid foods yet because he’s scheduled for another surgery on his leg tomorrow afternoon.

Aaron looks me dead in the face, his voice kind but clear.

“Dad, I’m okay. Really.”

Anxiety twists my stomach into a double knot.

“Yeah,” Dean agrees. “And, hello—he’s with two teachers who are also football coaches—first aid and CPR certified, thank you very much. Me and Garrett are practically first responders at this point.”

“Also, I hate to point out the obvious . . .” Garrett gestures to the room around us. “We’re literally in a hospital. Short of wrapping the kid in bubble wrap; it doesn’t get any safer than this.”

They’re right. Rationally, I know this. But the rational part of my brain has been out of commission lately—I’ve been operating on base instinct and adrenaline.

“Where are the other two rug rats?” Dean asks. “I’m sure they’d like to see you.”

“They’re staying with Stacey tonight at her place in Hoboken.”

“Good.” Aaron nods. “Then why don’t you go see Violet?”

Violet.

Christ, just thinking her name is like an oasis in a desert, a cool, beautiful glass of water on a scorching day. My chest loosens and my stomach unwinds, the knot replaced with simmering, exhilarating desire.

Because I’ve missed her so fucking much.

We’ve texted and talked in quick fragments. We’ve seen each other briefly, but really only in passing.

Not enough, not nearly enough.

My whole focus has been on Aaron—first on the paralyzing fear that he could crash at any moment, that we could still lose him—and then on his recovery, what he needed and making sure he got it.

But the thought of seeing Violet, talking to her, touching her, hearing her voice and her laugh . . . just being with her, fills every space inside me with a blessed, relieved joy that I almost forgot was possible.

“Seriously, Dad, go see your girlfriend,” my wise child tells me. “You’ve probably been a crappy boyfriend lately; you might have to grovel.”

I chuckle. “Nah, Vi’s not like that.”

Which makes it even more important that I not be selfish, that I treat her right. Because she’s understanding and phenomenal—and she lets the small stuff go so easily.

“We’re just going to hang here all night.” Garrett pulls a bag of popcorn out of the gym bag he carried in with him. “And watch the Patriots get annihilated.”

Dean grabs the remote from the tray and turns on the television on the wall behind me. “And mock Belichick’s offense without Brady, because we’re petty like that.”

Aaron reaches for some popcorn, but my brother slaps his hand away.

“Ow!” My son retracts his hand, laughing. “I’m frigging injured.”

Garrett points at him. “No popcorn allowed for you. You . . . ” he reaches into the bag again—like a gender-swapped Mary Poppins. “ . . . get to enjoy this whole case of popcorn flavored Jell-O that Aunt Callie picked up from Whole Foods just for you.”

Garrett looks at me. “And I already checked with Aaron’s nurse on the way in—he’s cleared to have it.”

Aaron rolls his eyes.

“Great.”

“No preservatives or artificial flavors,” Dean says. “Yummy.”

“I brought lemon flavored too, in case it tastes like ass,” Garrett tells Aaron.

Then they all laugh.

And that’s the moment when it clicks—when I know and feel that Aaron’s going to be okay without me. I nod, surrendering.

“All right, all right . . . I’ll head out.”

I kiss the top of Aaron’s head. “Love you, buddy.”

He smiles. “Love you too, Dad.”

My throat tightens and my eyes heat, because I’m just a fucking mess these days.

Still, I manage to walk out the door and down to my truck in the parking lot.

For the first time in weeks, there’s nowhere I have to be—not at the hospital or talking to Stacey or Brayden and Spence, or in a conference with one of Aaron’s doctors.

But need—need’s a different animal. And there’s only one person I need to see as soon as possible.

So I pull out of the parking lot and drive straight to Violet’s house.





CHAPTER TWENTY


Connor


Twenty minutes later, I pull into Vi’s driveway behind her little blue Volkswagen.

I didn’t call her on the way over, but the light in her living room glows a golden yellow behind the closed blinds. I kill the engine and gaze at her adorable house, the corners of my mouth inching upward, just because I’m here.