He was alive.
In bad shape.
But alive.
Which, as I was giving him CPR on my hands and knees, was more than I had thought possible.
After several failed attempts on the ambulance ride over, the ER doctors had been able to shock his weak heart back into a rhythm. Not since I had been pregnant, having my first ultrasound, had the sound of a heartbeat been so beautiful. But the minute the beeps of my son’s heart rising and falling rang through the air as I stood helplessly outside the room, I collapsed to my knees.
I burst into tears and sank to the floor, Porter right beside me, his chest heaving in time with mine, a million curse words mixed with blessed praises rolling from our tongues.
We didn’t touch. Or speak.
We didn’t need words. Or comfort.
We needed a miracle.
The world moved in a flurry as I frantically tried to keep up, all the while watching my hopes and dreams fade out of reach.
We sat there for God only knows how long as doctors and nurses continued trying to stabilize him enough to move him to a room.
The hospital was a small community. And, once word had gotten around that my son had been admitted, the staff flooded the ER. Greg, my partner at North Point Pulmonology, was one of the first to arrive. He’d been acting as Travis’s pulmonologist for the last few weeks, but his orders were coming from friends of mine at Texas Children’s Hospital.
“Did you call them?” I asked, jumping to my feet.
Porter rose to his feet beside me and attempted to take my hand, but I shook it off.
“Did you?” I asked again.
Greg’s concerned gaze dipped to my soaking-wet shirt and then back to my eyes. “I did. Erin said she can’t get away, but Gina is catching a flight out.” He lifted a finger at a passing nurse. “Can you grab them some scrubs to put on?”
“Listen. No. Call her back. We don’t need a pulmonologist. I need a team of cardiologists. The best they have.”
Porter moved into my side and added, “Dr. Kreh is the head of cardiology at TCH. I talked to him a few weeks ago on the phone. He’s familiar with Travis’s case.”
Greg looked at him for only a beat and then ignored him altogether. His face became soft, and his words were gentle. “Charlotte, you know there is nothing he can do at this point.”
“That’s not true,” I hissed.
He sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets. “You’re thinking like a parent. Think like a doctor. There is no quick fix or treatment here. The muscles in his heart are no longer able to support his body. You’ve known this day was coming since he was born.”
“I’ve had him back for two weeks!” My voice cracked. “It’s not supposed to happen yet.”
Greg cut his gaze to the floor, and Porter once again tried to pull me into his arms, but I refused him the contact.
I didn’t want to be coddled. I wanted someone to make this stop.
To change the inevitable.
To fix my son.
“Make the call,” I demanded.
“Charlotte, I—”
“Make the fucking call, Greg!” I boomed, getting in his face. “Do it!”
“I already did. He said there was nothing that he could do.” He kept his eyes down. “He needs the transplant, Charlotte. I know this is hard for you. But we’re going to find him a heart. I swear to you. This entire hospital has your back.”
My body sagged, and the jagged knife of reality stabbed me in the gut. Medically, I knew that what he was saying was right. But, as a mom, I couldn’t stop hoping that he was wrong.
“He’s been on the list for two months,” Porter said, “and we haven’t gotten so much as a phone call.”
“He’ll be moved up the list,” I whispered.
He glanced between Greg and me. “Okay. That’s good, then, right?”
“Up doesn’t mean the top.”
“It’s still up,” Porter argued, the saddest tinge of hope coloring his voice.
I didn’t carry the same hope. Lifting my pleading gaze to Greg, I asked, “He’s not leaving this hospital, is he?”
His face paled, he closed his eyes, and then crushed me. “Not with that heart.”
A wave of devastation slammed into me.
Four words.
Every single one of them broke me.
Slapping my hand over my mouth, I stumbled back a step.
With a hand at the back of my neck, Porter forced me against his chest and hugged me tight.
And, for the first time ever, I felt no comfort in his arms.
No warmth.
No solace.
I felt nothing but an ice-cold chill travel up my spine.
I stood there, desperately searching for the relief Porter usually gave me. My heart racing, my mouth dry. But nothing came to me. Not even when I closed my eyes and gave the darkness a try.
There was no reprieve to be found in a situation like that.
“Charlotte,” someone called from down the hall.
My head popped up and I saw Brady racing through the ER, his terrified gaze morphing into a living, breathing beast as he came to a sudden stop several feet away. His wide eyes locked on Porter.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” he seethed.
I stepped out of Porter’s arms and lifted my hands in surrender. “Don’t start this here.”
Porter stepped forward and rumbled, “We have bigger things to worry about than your bullshit right now, Brady.” He moved behind me, snaking an arm around my hips and bringing his chest flush with my back.
With his callused gaze, Brady followed the motion down. “You cannot be serious. Why are you here right now?”
“We were together when Travis collapsed.” I tried to explain.
He barked a laugh and planted his hands on his hips. “And why the fuck were you together, Charlotte? Please, God, tell me you aren’t back together with the man who kidnapped your son. For fuck’s sake, what is wrong with you?”
“He has a right to be here.”
“He has no right!” Brady exploded.
Porter charged forward and he did it so fast that I didn’t have a chance to stop him until it was too late. He grabbed Brady’s throat and slammed his back into the wall. “I have every fucking right! That is my son. Mine!”
Brady’s eyes bulged and his face turned red.
“Porter, let him go!” I clawed at his arm, but it was useless. Porter had a death grip on his neck.
“I have done everything for that child,” Porter growled. “I was the one who held him each night when he cried through countless breathing treatments. I was the one who made sure he had the best medical care. I was the one who held his hand every time he was poked and prodded with needle after needle. And, not a goddamn hour ago, I dragged his lifeless body out of the water for a second time.” He leaned in close until they were nose to nose. “I don’t give a single damn what you or any court in this country says. He. Is. Mine!”
Just as quickly as Porter had grabbed Brady, he released him. Thrusting a hand into the top of his hair, he started to pace.
Brady hunched over and supported himself on his knees, coughing and cursing.
Two uniformed hospital security guards came barreling around the corner, their gazes bouncing between the two men.
“I’m sorry about that,” I told the guards. “We have this completely under control now.”
“Arrest…him.” Brady wheezed, flinging a hand out at Porter.
“Brady, no!” I yelled.
He straightened to his full height and rolled his shoulders back. “We have a protection order against that man. I want him out of here now!”
“You selfish coward,” Porter snarled.
I stepped in front of the officers. “Please. Stop. Just listen—”
“Is this true?” the younger of the two men asked.
I glared at Brady. “Please don’t do this… Travis’s condition is bad, Brady. Like, we don’t know if he’ll ever walk out of this hospital again. If he wakes up and wants to see his dad—”
“Then I’ll be here,” Brady snapped.
Porter exploded all over again, and the guards quickly intervened, grabbing his arms to hold him back.
“You son of a bitch!” Porter shouted. “You can’t stand the idea that he needs me.”
Brady’s lips curled menacingly. “He doesn’t need you. He wants you because he doesn’t know any better. Six months from now, he won’t even remember you exist.”
“Brady!” I hissed.
He swung his malevolent gaze my way. “And you. Whenever the fuck your boyfriend there gets out of jail, you can have him all to yourself. Because, when our son comes home, it’s going to be to my house. I am done playing this shit your way. You fucking lost him the first time. I shouldn’t even have trusted him with you this long.”
My mouth fell open as my whole body went up in flames.
“You piece of shit!” Porter roared, and then his voice faded away as I heard a scuffle behind me.
But I didn’t tear my gaze off the biological father of my son long enough to see where they were taking his real father.
With calculated steps, I prowled toward Brady.
With every blink came darkness and light.
And with every heartbeat came a reminder of death and life.
Stopping in front of him, I stared up at him and stated, calm and cool, “I know you hate me for what happened all those years ago. And there hasn’t been a minute over the last decade where I didn’t wish I could change it. But no matter what you say. And no matter how hard you try. I will always be his mother.”
“And I will always be his father.”
“No. Brady. You are the selfish man who showed up at the hospital after getting a phone call that your son had been rushed to the emergency room completely unresponsive and you haven’t asked about him once. Porter was there when he needed a father today. And Porter has been there for him when he needed a father every day since he adopted him seven years ago. If you were any kind of man at all, you would drop to your knees and thank him for giving our son a beautiful life. Instead, you’re slinging insults and having him arrested while our son is not twenty feet away, fighting for his life.”
I took a step closer and moved my lips to his ears. “This is your only warning. You need to prepare yourself for the world of hurt I’m going to rain down over you if you so much as think of taking my son away from me. I will spare no expense to make it happen. I will cut you deeper than your shallow soul knew possible. Because. Brady. You’re right. I did lose him. But make no mistake about it. Nothing. No one. Not you. And not even the face of death will ever take my son away from me again.”
Stepping away, I gave him my back, a new resolve coursing through my veins, making me stronger than I had ever been before.
“You’re a fucking joke, Charlotte,” he called. “You’ll be lucky to get visitation after this shit.”
Any other day, his words would have destroyed me.
But, right then, I had bigger things to worry about than Brady throwing yet another hissy fit.
First being to escort my son up to Pediatric ICU and discuss his current state with his cardiologists.
Second being to contact my attorney and give her a heads-up on Brady’s latest threats.
Third being to get Porter out of jail.
And last being to suck in a deep breath and remind myself that I had too many reasons to live to shut down again—no matter how hard it got.
Two hours later…
“Get him out of there, Tom.”
“Charlotte, honey. It’s not that easy.”
After pulling the sweater my mother had brought me tight around my shoulders, I crossed my arms and began to pace up and down the hospital hallway. “Then make it that easy.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets and stared at the floor. “I’m sorry, but I can’t in good conscience help Porter Reese.”
I stopped and leveled my gaze on his. “Then you have no business here. Feel free to leave.”
“You are my business,” he clipped. “And you’re not making smart choices.”
I marched over to him, and then, careful to keep my voice low, I seethed, “I was never your business. You got assigned to a case of a missing baby.” I stabbed a finger at Travis’s hospital room. “That means that little boy is your business. So, by all means, walk your ass in there and tell him you aren’t going to help his father get out of jail because you feel like maybe, just maybe, Porter outsmarted you at some point.”
He glared at me. “That is not what this is about. This is about you being so blinded by your heart that you can’t even see the truth.”
“You’re right!” I whispered. “I am blinded by love.” I planted my hands on my hips and leaned in close. “Love for my son. When he wakes up and Porter isn’t standing at that bedside, it’s going to crush him. And there is nothing I won’t do to prevent him from feeling even an ounce of heartbreak.”
He cocked his head to the side. “And what about you? You love Porter?”
Defiantly, I held his stare. “Unquestionably.”
He clamped his jaw shut and ground his teeth. “You’re just going to forget that that man raised your son for the last however many years? That he married the sociopath who stole him? That he pursued you knowing he had your son? He played you then. And, now, he’s playing you again to keep that boy in his life. I don’t doubt that he loves that little boy. But I refuse to stand by and watch him treat you like a pawn in this little game of his.”
“He didn’t know he had my son!”
“Yeah,” he scoffed. “So he’s said a million times.”
“You found nothing on him. The investigation has been closed.”
“Because we can’t get enough on the asshole to make a case. But that doesn’t mean he’s not guilty. Coincidences like that don’t just happen, Charlotte. For fuck’s sake, he was at your house the day the body of the real Travis Reese was recovered.”
“Travis Hendrix,” I corrected.
“What?” he clipped.
“That little boy whose body you recovered. His name was Travis Hendrix. And he died years before Porter ever entered the equation. You want to talk about games and pawns. Shit, Tom. Porter was caught in the middle of the ultimate chess match and he didn’t even know he was playing. Can we all take a step back and point the finger where blame really belongs? Catherine took my son.”
“I know that,” he grumbled.
“Can we also acknowledge that she had some pretty serious mental health issues?”
“No one is doubting that.”
“Then can you imagine how in the hell my son’s life would have turned out if Porter had not been in that picture?”
His eyebrows knit together as he cut his gaze away.
I inched closer and rested my hands on his chest. “Yeah, Tom. He’d be dead and you know it. The first time she got overwhelmed with his health and Porter hadn’t been there to talk her off the ledge, she’d have taken his life right then so she wouldn’t have to lose him again.”
“Jesus, Charlotte,” he whispered. “That doesn’t make what he’s doing to you okay.”
“What he’s doing to me?” I asked. “Let me tell you exactly what he’s doing to me, Tom. He’s making me happy. He’s making me laugh. And, even when I’m crying, he makes me feel safe. He makes me feel loved. He’s reminding me that the world is full of light even when you can’t see it. And, more than all of that, he’s shown me that there doesn’t have to be light for something to be beautiful. Love can grow in the darkness, Tom. I know this is true because of him.”
At the thought, Porter’s warmth enveloped me. He didn’t even have to be in the room to soothe me.
Tom rested his hand on my hip and gave me a squeeze. “Charlotte—”
“I’m going to let you off the hook here. I know you think Porter is playing me. And, being the big tough detective-slash-father-figure, nothing I say is going to change your mind. But let me tell you this: If the way I feel with Porter is the product of a game, then I am willing to be his pawn for the rest of my life.” I sucked in a shaky breath. “He makes me happy, Tom. Remember that woman at the restaurant you and Mom saw a while back? The one whose face was bright and her laugh was loud?”
His face became impossibly gentle, and he swallowed as he nodded.
I stared deep into his eyes, begging for him to believe me. “He makes me that woman.”
He sighed, and his strong shoulders rounded with defeat. “For the record, I’m not okay with this.” He looked up, his eyes blazing with love. “But there isn’t one damn thing in this world I wouldn’t do to make you happy.”
I grinned in victory. “Including getting Porter out of jail?”