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  With my arms loaded, I manage to get the trunk shut and the car locked. I move across the parking lot and into the patient entrance. The lobby receptionist, Judy, waves. “Hey, Leighton.”

  “Hey, Judy,” I call.

  “You need me to get someone to help you with all that stuff?”

  I shake my head. “I’m good. Sam’s birthday is today.”

  Judy breaks into a wide smile. “Oh, that’s wonderful. I’ll be up to wish him a happy birthday later.”

  Beaming, I move toward the elevators. That’s what happens when a child is in the hospital for a month. The parents get to know the people who work there. When the patient is a child, I’ve realized most go out of their way to get to know them. I can’t even begin to count the number of people I’ve met who aren’t even directly related to patient care who have gone out of their way to introduce themselves to Sam just because they know he’s been there for a long time.

  Reaching Sam’s room, I set the bags down just inside the doorway. We don’t have to wear the isolation gowns anymore since he’s doing so well.

  Immediately, I spot his pediatric oncologist and the leader of the transplant team, Dr. Hunt, standing by his bed. My dad is in a chair on the other side, and they’re all laughing about something.

  Dr. Hunt turns to give me a bright smile. “I stopped by since I heard it was Sam’s birthday.”

  My dad stands from where he was sitting and offers me the chair, but I refuse it with a smile.

  “It was nice of you to come by,” I tell the doctor.

  Dr. Hunt glances between me and Sam. “I actually have a birthday present for you.”

  “Is it Legos?” Sam asks, taking a wild guess.

  Chuckling, Dr. Hunt shakes his head. “Not something as simple as that. How about if I were to tell you that I’m going to let you go home in a couple of days?”

  Letting out a war cry of enthusiasm, Sam bounds up to his knees on the bed. “That’s awesome.”

  “A couple of days?” I ask for clarification.

  Dr. Hunt nods. “His blood levels are consistently rising every day. Assuming they continue to do so over the next two days, it’ll be safe to release him to go home.”

  “So by Sunday?” Sam asks. He turns excited eyes on me. “That means I could be home in time to watch football with Dad and Grandpa in Dad’s man cave.”

  I laugh. Why that’s so important I have no clue since he watches football on Sundays at the hospital. But I guess he has some idea in mind that relaxing at home with the men in the man cave while watching football is a big deal.

  At that moment, August walks in, carrying the cake in his hands. “Did I hear someone say football?”

  Still on his knees, Sam bounces up and down on the bed. “Dad… Dr. Hunt said I can go home in two days, and I was saying we could watch football there together.”

  August holds out the cake to me, which I take and put on the large bedside table. After giving me an appreciative smile and a very quick once over of my entire body that makes me flush, he then hurries over to Sam and gives him a big hug. “That’s awesome, buddy. But that present is in no way going to compete with mine.”

  The prospect August has gotten Sam something that could outweigh the excitement of being told he’ll be going home soon is too much for him to contain. He starts bouncing again. “What is it? What is it?”

  August gives his son a sly smile before shifting to yell toward the door. “You can come on in, Darius.”

  To my surprise, a huge man enters the room. He’s so wide it almost seems like his shoulders aren’t going to fit through the doorframe. Grinning at Sam, he says in a deep, rumbling voice, “What’s up, little man?”

  I have no clue who this guy is, but apparently Sam does because his eyes go round and bug so far out of his head that I’m afraid he’s going to have a stroke. Finally appearing to find his voice, he screams, “Holy shit, it’s Darius Fables.”

  Startled, I whip my gaze to August, my dad, and then to Dr. Hunt, who all appear appropriately impressed. No one seems to care Sam just cursed, so I choose not to say anything.

  I have no clue who Darius Fables is, but given his size and the fact Sam knows who he is, along with the fact he just cursed and nobody called him on the carpet on it, I’d guess he’s a professional football player for Sam’s favorite team.

  August must realize I’m lost, so he takes a moment to introduce me. “Leighton… this is Darius Fables. He’s the center for the Broncos, and Sam’s favorite player.”

  Darius reaches a meaty paw out to me, completely engulfing mine in a warm shake. “Nice to meet you.”

  He releases me and moves to Sam’s bedside, pulling a jersey out of the bag he’s carrying. I step back to give them room, marveling that August pulled this off. I mean… how in the hell did he get a professional football player to come to visit a kid in the hospital during the season? Sidling closer to him, I murmur, “You have some major connections.”

  Chuckling, he shakes his head. “I don’t, but Declan does. He made this happen. Sent his plane for Darius, who traveled here just for this and has to fly right back to Denver.”

  Head snapping over to him, I narrow my eyes. Immediately, I suspect this has something to do with the guilt August has been feeling. I also wonder if this is Declan’s way of thanking me for a wonderful evening.

  August must read the questions in my eyes because he shakes his head, leaning in closer to me to murmur, “Declan’s just a nice guy. He offered, and I accepted. It’s for Sam and Sam alone. It has nothing to do with us.”

  I survey the joy on Sam’s face. I never would have been able to give him something so wonderful. I’m almost a little jealous of how that will strengthen August’s bond with Sam. But, in the end, all I am is incredibly grateful August has the connections he does to provide an experience for our son he will never forget.

  “Well, we clearly already have a party going on,” I announce as I start rummaging through the bags for the Star Wars paper plates and utensils I bought. “To hell with the decorations. Let’s get to the cake part.”

  And so we have Sam’s tenth birthday party in his hospital room. Dr. Hunt stays to eat cake, Darius Fables helps Sam open all the rest of his presents, and I revel in the fact my kid is getting healthy, strong, and having a wonderful day.

  There’s a lot of shared laughter. We pass slices of cake out to the nurses. Darius Fables turns out to be overly generous with his time, and he spends an hour talking football with Sam.

  But eventually, things wind down. Dr. Hunt has to leave because he has so many other patients who need his attention. Darius declines August’s offer to take him to the airport, insisting he stay here to spend the time with Sam. Then, Darius leaves with a promise to Sam to have him come to a Bronco’s game next year when he’s recovered. The sparkles in Sam’s eyes don’t die down until long after Darius leaves.

  As we’re cleaning up, August steps up to me and asks, “Your dad okay?”

  I look over my shoulder, finding him huddled in close to Sam as they go through the books I’d bought him. Upon first glance, all appears okay, but then I realize… Dad has been incredibly quiet and withdrawn as we celebrated. I didn’t put too much stock in it, having too much fun enjoying Sam’s happiness.

  But yeah… something’s wrong.

  I don’t even have to respond to August, though, because it’s as if he senses I’m suddenly worried. Shifting toward my dad, he says, “Hey, Mike… how about going out and getting a beer with me?”

  My dad glances up, clearly surprised at the offer. It’s very unlike August, who has never quite warmed up to my dad, and the feeling has been mutual. For August to do this… I want to hug him so badly I can feel my arms ache just from the desire. He doesn’t owe my dad anything, but I know the truth about why he’s reaching out to him.

  He’s doing it for Sam, and he’s doing it for me. He might not like my dad overly much, but he knows we love him.

  CHAPTER 19
r />   August

  I’m not much of a bar hopper. On occasion, I’ll go out for drinks with my buddies from work. And I’ll hang out at The Wicked Horse. Otherwise, I stay home. My life isn’t all that exciting outside of work.

  As such, I wasn’t sure where to take Mike for a beer, but ended up settling on a small hole-in-the-wall place in a shopping complex about a mile from the hospital, which I’d noticed on my many trips by. It’s perfect since it’s practically deserted, and the bartender pretty much stays away from us.

  Cracking peanuts provided in little plastic baskets, we watch the TV behind the bar that’s muted but showing sports highlights on ESPN.

  When I’m almost finished with my beer, I decide to break the silence. “What’s eating you?”

  Mike surveys me for a moment before giving his attention to the TV. “Nothing.”

  “Not true.” I reply confidently.

  I’m met with silence.

  I pick up my mug, drain it, and push it to the edge of the bar, which catches the bartender’s attention. Lifting my chin to indicate I’d like another beer, I then gesture at Mike’s nearly empty glass. When we have two full and foaming mugs in front of us, I try my second attempt to get Mike to open up. “So… Sam had a good birthday, huh?”

  That has an effect. Mike makes a scoffing noise before muttering, “And why wouldn’t he? His dad managed to outshine us all by bringing a professional football player to the party—his favorite one, at that.”

  I’m startled by the derision in his voice. I’d thought he’d be happy for Sam to have such a treat, not bitter about it. I shift on my stool to face him. “Are you jealous of what I did for Sam?”

  “No,” he replies sulkily, eyes returning to the TV screen.

  I don’t back off. “Sure sounds like it to me. Maybe that’s just your own guilt manifesting.”

  Mike whips around on his barstool, his eyes flashing with anger. “What do I have to feel guilty about?”

  And while my intent was to get Mike away from the hospital and perhaps relax over a friendly drink because we’ve all been under a lot of pressure, I realize we actually need to have this out. There’s been animosity brewing between us. “Oh, let’s see,” I sneer, deciding… fuck it. I’ll let it all hang out. “Maybe you’re feeling guilty because you chose to stay behind instead of coming with Sam to Vegas. Put your own selfish needs above your grandson.”

  Mike pales, his eyes rounding in shock. “Sam is my number-one priority.”

  “If that were the case, you never would have stayed behind,” I accuse.

  In disbelief, Mike shakes his head, giving a mirthless laugh. “You think I stayed behind because I was afraid for myself?”

  Admittedly, I’m thrown off by his tone. He sounds so confident I’ve misjudged him.

  “Well yeah,” I drawl, now a little uncertain.

  Mike leans into me, growling, “You dumb jackass… I didn’t come because I thought it would put Sam in more danger. It’s me the mafia wants. They don’t even know about Sam. I was afraid moving to a new location would… I don’t know… cause a stir and unwanted attention. At first, I thought him going off to Vegas with you and Leighton would be the safest thing for him. Letting him go would make him safer. What I feel guilty about is breaking down and coming here. Possibly putting him in danger by my proximity now that we’re out of government protection.”

  Well, fuck. Clearly, I had not read the situation correctly. Or, rather, I hadn’t bothered to find out what his intentions and reasoning were in the first place. I merely assumed he was a coward who was abandoning his grandson.

  “Shit,” I mutter. Picking up my beer, I take a long pull and set it down, giving a sidelong glance at Mike. I can do nothing but offer a sheepish smile. “Sorry… apparently, I got that wrong.”

  “Yeah,” he replies dryly. “I stand by my statement… you’re a dumb jackass.”

  “Owning up to that,” I admit. Angling my body his way, I offer him my hand. “Will you accept my apology?”

  Mike flicks a disdainful glance at my hand before meeting my eyes, and I think he’s going to snub me. But then he huffs in annoyance, takes my hand, and gives it a hard shake. “Apology accepted. And, I’ll admit, that was pretty fucking cool of you to get Darius Fables to visit Sam. Sorry I made light of it. I’ve just been feeling pissy about this entire situation with Sam.”

  I finally understand what’s at the heart of his fears. “You know, Mike… I believe you’re safe in Vegas. I don’t believe you’re bringing any untoward danger on Sam and Leighton. All indications are nobody is coming after you. At least not actively. And I have sources in the government who will alert me if that changes.”

  Mike chuckles, but it doesn’t sound like it’s in pure amusement. There’s a darkness to it. “Listen, August… I appreciate you attempting to make me feel better here. But when you have a death sentence hanging over your head, it doesn’t matter how many people tell you that you’re safe or your kid and grandson are safe. You never believe it. Not really.”

  I’m starting to get that. God knows Leighton has made enough mention about how deeply the fear was instilled within her family so they always stayed on their toes. Always operated with caution and distrust. It’s easy for me to be mad about it, because it drove their decisions and ultimately cut me out of Sam’s life. But I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same thing if in their shoes and with only the information they were given.

  My phone rings, and I reach into my pocket to pull it out. Cage Murdock’s name flashes. He’s one of my Jameson teammates, but he works from the Pittsburgh office now.

  In apology, I tell Mike, “I need to take this really quick.”

  Mike lifts his chin in acknowledgment, his eyes returning to the TV screen and his hands curling around the beer mug.

  “What’s up?” I say as soon as I connect the call.

  “They’ve found Malik. He’s alive,” Cage says. A ripple of disbelief and adrenaline shoots up my spine, causing me to sit ramrod straight on my barstool.

  Malik Fournier has been missing since a mission in Syria gone bad over four months ago. We’ve been searching for him on a few follow-up missions, but we haven’t been able to glean any reliable data as to whether he’s dead or alive.

  “Come again?” I order.

  Because, surely, he’s mistaken. This seems too good to be true, so my inclination is to distrust it.

  “He’s being held prisoner. I’m putting together a team to go in,” Cage says, his voice hard and brusque. I can tell he’s one hundred percent in black-ops mode. “You’re one of the first I’ve called. I want you on the rescue op.”

  I take in Mike next to me. He’s a reminder of how drastically my life has changed in the last several weeks. There was a time when Cage would have called, told me the exact news he just laid out to me, and I would have said, “Count me in,” without a second thought.

  But my life is different now.

  “I’m sorry,” I murmur, my voice laced with regret and self-recrimination. I can’t believe I’m declining this opportunity. “But I can’t leave.”

  Cage doesn’t hesitate. “I know. I mean, I knew you would say that. But I needed to make the offer, so you knew you were one of my first choices. But honestly, dude… with what you’ve got going on? You’re right where you need to be.”

  Admittedly, that helps a little. Assuages the guilt over not being a team player right now. I never thought anything in the world could ever stop me from going on a rescue mission to find and save our fallen teammate. But I have a little boy battling for his life in the hospital, and Sam’s more important than anything else.

  Cage fills me in on what their intelligence has revealed. They’re putting together a rescue mission, hoping to leave within a few days. He assures me I’ll be kept updated along with everybody else at Jameson.

  “Good luck, brother,” I say solemnly just before we disconnect. “Bring him back to us.”

  “I will,” Cage
says with determination, then he’s gone.

  I gently place my phone on top of the bar before picking up my beer and taking a sip. I’m going to have a lot of friends getting ready to put themselves in serious danger, and I can’t do a damn thing to help them because I’m needed here more.

  “Everything okay?” Mike asks.

  Slowly, I swivel his way, leaning my elbow on the bar. “No, it’s not.”

  “Anything I can help with?” he offers.

  I stare at this man, who, at one point in my life, was like a father to me. I thought I would marry Leighton—that Mike would always be there to impart advice.

  With a sigh, I explain about Malik and how he was sent to rescue hostages in Syria but became one himself. I wrap it up, saying he has apparently been found and I’m not going to be able to go on a rescue mission because of Sam.

  “You give up a lot for your son,” Mike murmurs. “And I know your job is important to you. I understand how important this friend must be to you. But you’re being the best father a man can be by setting your priorities straight. If there’s ever any advice I can impart to you about being a father it is for you to continue being the same man you are when it comes to your son.”

  “Really?” I ask, because I’m new to this. I have no fucking clue if I’m doing anything right.

  Mike nods, a smile playing at his lips. “You’ve always been a good man, August. I saw it when you were younger, and I see it now. From the moment Leighton showed up on your doorstep, you have been a father in every sense of the word. Even before you met Sam, you were a father because you didn’t ask questions and you immediately jumped in to do whatever it took to save his life. Sam’s a lucky boy. His life is much better now that you’re in it. I’m glad this all played out the way it did.”

  I’m usually not one to get choked up by emotion, but I have to say… Mike’s words affect me deeply. While I have a great relationship with my parents, they’re not the type to be overly involved with me as an adult. Once I flew the nest, they decided to start leading their own lives. They’ve never told me that they’re proud of the things I do. I mean, I know deep down they are, but they’re more interested in assuring I’m a happy person and living my best life. They have no clue I have the abilities to be a good father. But they’ll soon be given the opportunity to evaluate that since I’m going to have to tell them about Sam. We all discussed it, and Sam is eager to meet them. Our goal was to get him out of the hospital first, so I’ll need to give them a call to convince them to come to Vegas for a visit.