Rascal (Rascals Book 1)(63)

“Oh, she definitely can.” Hayley gave me and Emerson a look. “So, when did you two get back together?”

Emerson put his arm around my shoulders. “Last night.”

Hayley frowned at him. “You waited that long?” She looked at me. “Did he at least come to you?”

“Excuse me!” Emerson crossed his arms. “I was about to go to her, when she showed up randomly at my campsite. Speaking of which, I never asked how you found us.” He glanced over at me. “Guessing you had some help with that?”

“Maybe,” I said coyly.

“You should buy me something really nice to thank me,” Hayley told him. “Because it kind of looks like I’m responsible for the two of you making up.”

“I’ll buy you a pony.” Emerson gave his sister a hug. “But not because you’re responsible for getting us back together. Because you’re my sister. And you should have a pony.”

Hayley opened her mouth, but before she could accept or reject the offer of a pony, Portia had opened the door to Henry’s room and poked her head out into the hallway.

“He wants to see both of you,” she said. “But he wants a word with Emerson first.”

Hayley didn’t look disappointed as she nodded. Emerson, on the other hand, looked extremely apprehensive.

“Maybe we should wait until he’s feeling better,” he said hesitantly. “You heard what the doctor said about stress.”

But Portia shook her head. “He wants to see you,” she told him, gesturing for him to join her in the room. “Both of you should come in.”

Emerson seemed to relax a little at that, taking my hand. I gave it a firm squeeze and then tugged him towards the hospital room. I knew he was nervous about talking to his dad, but I also knew that it was something he needed to do.

He took a deep breath and we headed in.

I didn’t know what to expect, but there wasn’t much I could have done to prepare myself to see Henry Hayes, one of the richest men in Chicago, who I had only seen in moments of vitality and strength, looking tired and old in a hospital bed.

Emerson squeezed my hand, and I could only imagine how hard it was for him. This was his father, and despite their contentious relationship, there was no doubt in my mind that Emerson loved his father. Just as I knew that Henry loved Emerson.

But both of them were stubborn. That was evident in the way they both set their jaw as Emerson entered the room. It would have been humorous if not for the circumstances, since they could have been mirror images of each other—both a portrait of discomfort and awkwardness.

“Dad,” Emerson started, the term seeming to slip out of his mouth, instead of the more formal “father,” which is what I knew he usually used.

I could see it soften Henry, just a little.

“I’m glad you came,” Henry said, and it was shocking at how small and quiet his voice was. He cleared his throat. “It’s good to see you.”

Emerson squeezed my hand again.

“Good to see you too,” Emerson said. “The doctor said it was just a false alarm. That you were very lucky.”

“We’ll see how lucky I feel when your mother refuses to let me order steak anymore,” Henry grumbled, looking a little like a petulant child instead of one of the most powerful men in Chicago. It did a lot to humanize him, and I found that I wasn’t quite as scared of him anymore.

“You’ll survive,” Portia told him, her voice sharp, but her gaze warm and loving. Then she was the one who cleared her throat, giving Henry a pointed look.

He looked down, clearly uncomfortable.

“Your father wanted to say something to you,” Portia prompted, when it became evident that Henry was continuing to be stubborn.

“I wanted to apologize,” Henry finally said, his voice gruff. “I might have overstepped the other night at the gala.”

Emerson’s eyebrows went up, but he didn’t say anything.

“You might have?” Portia asked.

Obviously they had discussed Henry’s apology, and Portia was going to do everything to make sure he did it justice.

“I overstepped,” Henry amended. “I know that you and I don’t see eye to eye on your future, and I still maintain that you could be doing more with your intelligence and your talents and your connections.”

I felt Emerson tense beside me and for a moment I thought that this was going to go very, very badly, perhaps ending in another fight that could lead to Henry having an actual heart attack, but then Portia slapped Henry’s hand.

“But I’m very proud of you,” Henry said quickly, almost in one breath.

The tension seemed to leave Emerson’s body.

“Thanks, Dad,” he said, his voice tight.

Portia’s eyes were shining, and I could tell that everyone was on the verge of emotions that they weren’t entirely comfortable with.

“Maybe we should give your mother and father a moment together,” I suggested. “We can send Hayley in next.”

Henry gave me an appreciative nod.

“I’m sorry,” he said, before we left. “I never should have tried to get involved in your relationship with my son.”

“I know you’re just doing what you think is best for him,” I told him. “But you should know that Emerson already knows what’s best for him. Come to the bar when you recover and you’ll see that.”