I call Char again, hoping she answers this time so I can say goodnight to Jack, but she doesn’t, and I’m beginning to get pissed. I haven’t talked to him in two days.

Grabbing a beer from the fridge, I remind myself that even though Char is ditzy and a shopaholic, she always has Jack’s best interests in mind.

Sitting on my couch, I turn on the TV to distract myself from my running mind, but can’t stop worrying. So I try and think about something else, anything except for worrying, and I’m taken back to the way Faye’s lips felt against mine, and how the instant I kissed her, my cock became rock hard. And it’s not just that I want her sexually, but I care about her. I want to make sure she’s okay, more than I have for anyone in a long time. But…she is unavailable.

Finally my phone rings. Thank God! It’s Char’s number, but I know it’s Jack. She doesn’t call me anymore, only texts me. “Hey, buddy,” I answer, happy to be able to finally talk to him.

“Thane,” Char says, alarm laced within her tone.

“What the fuck happened?” I immediately ask, knowing that if she’s calling me something’s wrong.

“It’s Jack,” she says through a sob, and I shoot off the couch grabbing my car keys as I bolt out of my house.

“What happened?” I yell at her again.

“I don’t know…I don’t know how it happened.”

Anger and fear consume me. My hands are shaking as I try and stick the key into my ignition. “Where are you?”

“North Puget Hospital.” Hearing that’s where they are makes my head spin, and I peel out of the driveway, racing across town.

“Is he okay?”

“I’m not sure,” she sobs, “He’s…in…surgery.”

“Oh fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” My vision becomes blurry as I slam the gas pedal down, needing to get to my little boy.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, and she should be sorry. Hell, she should be more than sorry. This is her fault; this is on her.

“Surgery!?” I question her, needing to know why and how.

“Uh huh.”

“How?” My voice is harsh—angry.

“He cut his hand, making a sandwich.”

“Jesus Christ, Charlene. What was he doing make himself food? He’s only six fucking years old.”

“I know, I’m sorry, we were out all day. We’d just gotten home, and I was taking my bags to my room and trying things on when it happened.”

“See, this is exactly why he belongs with me. You had him out shopping again, and you told me you wouldn’t be!” She doesn’t respond, and I know that’s why, even if she doesn’t admit to it. “Jesus Christ, he’s a little boy, how many times do I have to tell you he doesn’t deserve to spend all his time with his mom at the mall.”

“I know, it won’t happen again.”

“You’re damn straight it won’t, ‘cause I’m going to petition the court for full custody.”

“No,” she wails.

“Yes, I am. This is all on you. I don’t know what’s gonna have to happen to make it clear to you that you have to put him first and stop shopping. It takes over, and you neglect him. If you don’t see now that you have a problem and need help, I don’t know what it’s gonna take. Jack needs to be first in your mind.” Pulling into the hospital parking lot, I hang up on her. My blood is pumping as I grip my steering wheel and slam my SUV into park. I rush inside the ER and spot Char standing against one of the walls, chewing on her fingernail, and it takes every bit of restraint inside of me to not lay into her even more. Walking up to the desk where an older gentleman looks up at me through a pair of wire-rimmed glasses he asks me, “How can I help you?”

“My son, Jack Stovich, was just brought in here.”

“Do you have any identification, sir?”

Pulling out my ID, I hand it to the man as Char comes and stands next to me. “Looks like he’s in surgery. If you want to have a seat, the doctor should be out shortly to speak with you.”

“Is he okay?” I ask, still not even knowing what the fuck really happened.

“I’m sorry, sir, you’ll have to speak with the doctor.”

Glaring down at Char as I take a seat in the desolate waiting room, she sits in the chair next to me, tears streaming down her face, and I know she feels bad. But I can’t console her right now. She’s responsible for this.

Sitting in silence for what feels like an eternity, we wait for an update, and finally a doctor comes out, “Stovich?” she calls out, and we both hop to our feet as the doctor approaches us.

“How is he?” I ask.

“He’s doing okay. He’s very, very lucky. The surgery went well, and I was able to repair the cut tendon in his right hand. Thankfully it was just nicked, so he shouldn’t have any issues with it after it heals.”

“Shouldn’t?” I ask.

“Yes, sir. These types of hand injuries can be touch and go. But I don’t want to jump to any conclusions. Jack is a brave boy, and as long as he keeps out of the kitchen, he should be just fine.”

Char nods, and the doctor says, “He’s just waking up; do you guys want to see him?”

“Please,” I practically beg the woman as we follow her back.

Walking into the room, my heart breaks. Jack’s tiny body is so small lying in the large hospital bed. His eyes are closed, and I rush to his side, taking in the sight of his injured hand while gripping his other. Char stands opposite me and kisses his forehead, waking him up. His groggy eyes look up at her, and he gives her a smile.

Seeing him awake and smiling makes me feel like everything is going to be okay.

“How are you feeling, buddy?” I ask, and he turns his head focusing in on me.

“Daddy. I’m tired.”

“I’m sure you are, but you’re going to be okay.”

“Am I still going to be able to be a fighter fire?”

“Yeah, you’ll still be able to be a fighter fire.”

He blinks heavily, and I pull the chair up, sitting down as I zone in on my little man. My pride and joy, my everything. Thank God he’s all right. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost him…and I pray that I’ll never find out.