Chapter 9
Ten days later, Justice shifted uneasily. It’d been a long week, anxiety constantly scratching at him. A baby. A kid. He didn’t know how he could be a father.
The exam room of the obstetrician’s office didn’t help. He sat in a chair shoved in the corner, facing posters showing the progression of pregnancy from conception to fully developed in the womb. He also had a magnified view of a woman’s cervix dilating… Sweat prickled his armpits. Jesus, TMI.
“You okay?” Liza sat on the table, her legs bare beneath that hideous gown.
Was he? How the fuck could he handle this? But what choice did they have? The doctor had confirmed she was pregnant. So what now? Before he could think of an answer, the door opened.
The doctor wheeled in a monitor attached to a machine. “Let’s take a look and see if we can determine how far along you are.”
Her cheerful voice rubbed him the wrong way. The woman wasn’t much more than thirty and had a reassuring manner. But she wasn’t the one who had to provide for and raise the child.
Liza reclined on the exam table. An assistant draped a blanket over her hips and legs and pulled up the gown.
After squirting some gel on her, the doctor moved a wand over her belly. Grainy images flickered on the monitor. A moment passed, then the doctor announced, “There’s your baby. Dad…” she looked over at him, “…would you like to see?”
Not really, but he rolled up and walked to Liza’s side. On the monitor was a gray-toned blob, and in the center was a black hole that almost looked like a gaping mouth.
“Right here is your child.” The doctor pointed to the whitish-gray kernel floating in the black mouth. “You’re roughly eight weeks along. This is the head, the body…”
Beth’s hand grabbed his. Justice leaned over her to focus on the image.
“See this movement?”
A tiny dot pulsed on the screen.
“It’s the baby’s heartbeat.”
His breath whooshed out of him as that fragile little speck pulsed again and again. So small and delicate, but alive. He looked down at Beth, seeing her belly smeared with the clear gel, soft and vulnerable. They had a baby growing in there. He shifted to Beth’s face, her skin glowing and eyes shimmering. Even on a table with that ugly gown, she was so damned beautiful it made his chest ache. “Our baby.”
Her smile spread like a rainbow, lighting up the dark and lonely place in him.
He didn’t care where they were, he leaned down and kissed her. “So we’re doing this.”
“All in, rock star.”
“All in.” When he looked at the screen again and saw that micro-being who would rely on them for everything, the pressure dropped on his chest like a boulder. He couldn’t fuck up again.
Once Beth was dressed, they bundled into the Jeep. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “I guess we’re going to need a crib and stuff.”
She touched his arm. “We have time. I’m not due until late July.”
“I know, I just…” He scrubbed at his face, then forced a smile. “Nothing.” Beth’d had a huge victory at work today. She’d pitched her SLAM Heroes idea to Sloane and marketing. Not only had she gotten approval, but she was the one who would direct it. She’d been wildly excited about it, throwing herself into his arms once she got home.
He knew damn well how much it meant to her. Liza hadn’t had anyone to protect her when she’d testified in court. She wanted to provide people with heroes in their scariest moments. He was proud of her.
“We don’t do that.”
Her words jerked him from his thoughts. “What?”
“Hold back our feelings. You’re the one who made the rule, so talk to me.”
He turned in the seat to face her. “I have to go back to L.A. tomorrow. We had the road crew all hired, but one of them bailed. Christine has a bus for us to look at. If we agree, that’ll be our tour bus, and it’ll meet us in Las Vegas. We’ll have to sign the contract for that too and make a massive payment, draining our S.I. Records funds even more. And she wants something changed on the music video. That fucker was done, and now we may have to reshoot some part of it.” A throb started in his temple. “I took a loan on the house, Beth. I can’t fail. I can’t lose that house—I swore to my grandmother I’d take care of my dad, and it’s his only home. And now…” His gaze slid down her bronze shirt to her belly.
“You’re not going to lose the house. First off, I’ve heard every track on that album, and they’re good. But you’re the magic that’s going to take Savaged Illusions to superstardom. You know that, you’ve always known it. You’re my Rooster who struts around and shows off because you know you’re that good. You’re the magic, you and that insanely compelling voice.”
Her words and absolute faith washed over him, calming some of the frantic stress eating his guts. Oh, he still believed he was that good, but the Court of Rock loss had left its mark.
“And second.” She squeezed his arm. “You’re not doing this alone. I’m working, making enough money to cover my bills and the loan you took on your house. I’ll find us a cheap, safe crib when the times comes. It’s going to be okay.”
He leaned into her and pulled her mouth to his. Justice didn’t care that they were in a parking lot, he kissed her exactly as he wanted to. Long and slow, savoring the taste of the woman who believed in him. Finally, he broke away. “All right, we’ll hold off on the crib. We need to celebrate your news today.”
“Which? My SLAM Heroes project or the baby?”
“Both.” He couldn’t get the image of that tiny heart beating in her stomach out of his mind. A baby, a child. One he made with the woman he loved.
“Good answer.”
“I’m getting used to the idea, especially now that I’ve seen the heartbeat,” he admitted, although he was still worried. “And I’m really proud of you for going in there and pitching SLAM Heroes. We have the rest of the day together, what do you want to do?”
“There is one thing I’d like.”
“What’s that?” He’d give her anything he could.
“A Christmas tree. A real one. I’d buy it myself, but I couldn’t figure out how to get it home.” She sighed. “I never had a real one.”
“That I can do. Buckle up, baby. Let’s go get you a tree.”
He’d do this one way or another. He wouldn’t let his band, fans, dad, Beth or his kid down.
* * *
Two hours later, Liza beamed at the tree in the corner of the living room. They’d dug through the boxes in the garage to find decorations. Justice had strung the lights, and now she was riffling through a box for ornaments. She pulled out a clay circle with a fading picture on it. Peering at it, she recognized those blue eyes and that smile. “It’s you! How old were you?”
Justice glared at her. “Don’t you dare put that up.”
She snorted and found the perfect branch dead center on the tree. The handmade decoration tugged at her heart. She used to make her mom ornaments in school, but they were all gone now. What happened to them? Liza didn’t know. Her aunt and grandmother had gotten rid of everything, except the few pictures and keepsakes Liza had managed to save. Shaking off the memories, she said, “So, what? First grade?”
“Second. We’re not keeping that on the tree. It’s stupid.”
“I love it.” She really did. “Did you make it for your grandmother?”
He mashed his lips together and rubbed the back of his neck, then sighed. “My mom.”
Her heart wrenched. He seldom talked about her. “Oh. I’ll take it off if you want. But you were really cute.” Thin and lanky with a slight smirk riding his little-boy smile. She fingered the picture. “If we have a boy, I hope he looks just like you.”
He wrapped his arm around her waist, tugging her against him. “I was pretty damn adorable. Might be hard for a boy of mine to live up to that.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re ridiculous. What if we have a girl?”
His gaze slid to hers. “If she looks like you, I’m toast. Burnt toast. I’ll crumble the first time she smiles at me.”
Her chest flooded with warmth.
He swatted her butt. “Now quit goofing off. Let’s get this tree decorated so I can get you naked in the glow of Christmas lights.”
“What makes you think I’ll let you get me naked?”
“Pay attention, woman. I’m not that cute little boy anymore. I’m a grown man who knows exactly how to make you come. And I’m getting hard just thinking about you naked. Do you want this tree decorated?”
She turned out of his hold. “If you want me naked, this tree had better be dazzling.”
“Go find more pictures of me. That’ll make you drop your panties.”
“Cocky rooster,” she muttered as she dug through the box, pulling out typical red and green decorations, when a white 6X9 envelope caught her attention. After tugging it out, she lifted the flap, and a stack of pictures fell out. Liza sifted through them, her surprise growing.
“What’d you find?”
“Old pictures. Looks like Christmas.” There was one of Justice on a bike with his dad running alongside him. Liza stared at a younger Noah, his skin free of scars, his eyes shining with pride over his boy. What had Noah been like then?
She studied the woman with the light-brown hair and pretty hazel eyes clapping as Justice rode by. Next was a picture of the three of them—Noah, Justice and the woman in front of a tree. “This is your mom?” Who else would it be? But Justice said she wasn’t interested in him, yet here she beamed.
He glanced over—“Yes”—and went back to arranging ornaments.
“She’s different than I expected. She looks nicer, like the girl next door.”
“You can look through pictures later.” He scooped up another ornament and hung it.
Liza frowned. “You never really talk about her.”
“Why would I?” His voice hardened. “She walked, Beth. After she made sure I knew I’d fucked up and I wasn’t worth staying for.”
True. And that pain still lingered in Justice. She put the pictures away and chose a silver bell to hang. “Does she ever contact you? Do you know where she is?”
He stiffened. “Birthday cards started coming a couple years ago. Before that…nothing. Not a goddamned word.”
Regret touched down in her belly at the sharpness in his voice. This was their first Christmas together, and she was digging around in his old pain. She laid her hand on his rigid back. “I’ll stop asking. I saw the pictures, and my curiosity got the better of me.”
His gaze slid to hers. “Her name is Robin. She started a small flower shop here in San Diego after I was born. That required a lot of long days, nights and weekends. It grew, and she sold it for a pretty nice profit. After that, she set out her shingle as a life coach for women with small businesses. That’s what she was doing last I knew.” He stared down into her face. “I don’t care where she is.”
His mother had been that successful? Liza hadn’t realized that—and yet it made sense. Justice’s drive to succeed stemmed from his mom’s abandonment, and if she’d been prosperous, then he’d be determined to top her achievement. It wasn’t so unlike Liza’s need to prove she wasn’t making the same mistakes her mom did.
“She didn’t deserve you, Justice. And you’re right, she doesn’t matter.” That wasn’t entirely true—for Justice his mom was a wound, but he’d formed scar tissue to protect himself. Liza didn’t need to pick at that. “You matter, and your dad matters.”
“And your mom.”
And their child.
“So what do you think of our tree?” he asked.
Liza took in the lush Douglas fir draped in white lights and colorful ornaments. “It’s missing something. Wait.” She opened the coat closet and took out a box while repressing her grin. Carrying it back, she announced, “We need a top for the tree.” With great flourish, she pulled it out, proudly holding it up.
Justice’s expression contorted somewhere between laughter and horror. “What the hell is that?”
“It’s a Christmas Chicken. Obviously.”
“Baby, there is nothing obvious about that.” He swiped it from her hand, holding it up. “Where did you get this?”
Liza had to admit, it was…different. It was formed from metal into the shape of a chicken and stood about five inches high. It had a jaunty red Santa hat on, and once it was plugged in, all the feathers lit up in green and red lights. “Online shopping.”
“No way are we putting this on the tree. This thing is an insult to Christmas.”
Liza stared at him in mock outrage, not willing to admit it had been one of her rare impulse buys. Chickens always made her think of Justice and his closeness with his grandmother. The woman had died before Liza met her, and yet, through Justice and this house, she felt a real connection to her. Or maybe it was just that she wished she had the kind of relationship with her grandmother that Justice had had with his. Of course she could tell him that, but it was more fun to tease him. “You haven’t heard the story of the Christmas Chicken?”
“No such thing.” Justice pinned her with his stare. “You’re making that up.”
“I am not.” Busying herself with repacking the unused decorations, she tried to think fast. “Come on, you have to have heard this. The one about…” Think! “…a chicken named Henrietta who heard the boys talking. She was going to be Christmas dinner. The chicken runs away and goes on a series of adventures.” Wow she was ripping off almost every children’s Christmas tale she’d ever read.
“Is that right? A chicken all by herself?”
She didn’t dare look at him or she’d bust up laughing. “Well, not by herself. She finds friends. You know, um…she rescues a deer after discovering him with his hoof caught in a fence.”
“Is that right?” Silky derision flowed in his tone. “Let me guess, a reindeer?”
“Sure.” Getting into her story now, Beth carefully closed the box lid. “Only the chicken hasn’t seen deer before, so he doesn’t know that this is a very special deer—”
“I call bullshit.”
She spun around, feigning outrage. “Are you doubting my Christmas Chicken?”
“I think you’re lying through your pretty teeth.” He advanced on her.
Liza backed up. “Nope. Totally the truth. I can’t believe you’d accuse me of lying.”
“I’m accusing, sweetheart. And I’m going to prove it with a little truth test.”
She spun, running around the couch. “No! You can’t!” Liza’d had no idea she was ticklish until Justice discovered that when they were playing around. If he caught her, he’d use tickling to make her confess her lie.
“Oh I can.”
“I’m pregnant!” Beth glanced back at the hallway. She’d never make it to the bathroom where she could lock the door. It was all about winning their little game.
“I was at that appointment. Your doctor said normal activity is fine. And sex. Lots of sex.”
“Tickling is not normal.” He never held her down, nothing vicious. Justice never held her down at all. Even if she had a nightmare, he stroked her arm and talked to her, letting her wake up. Once she was fully aware, she always scooted into his arms and he’d hold her. She never feared him; this was just fun. And she liked to win.
He grinned. “Not the way I do it.” Justice took two steps and leapt over the couch, landing next to her.
Hell. Liza tried to run, but he snapped an arm around her waist, pulling her back to his chest. “Caught you.” He slid his hand beneath her shirt, spreading it on her belly. “Want to confess anything?”
God. His voice rumbling in her ear slid down her nerve endings. Her nipples tightened, and tremors of desire spread beneath his fingers. He held her gently, his hand circling her stomach. He’d been home two days. Christmas was in a week. It was all going too fast… Once the holidays were over, Justice had a packed schedule of prepublicity for his album release and tour.
Dread flickered in her heart. He’d be gone, out there performing, growing more famous and starring in women’s fantasies while she’d be here getting fat with their baby.
And what about Gene Hayes? What was he doing?
No. Liza leaned back into Justice, trying to grab on to this moment when things were good. Craning her head around, she looked up at him. “I’ll confess that I love you.”
“Nice try, but I believe you’ve lied to me. There’s no such thing as a Christmas Chicken story. You made that up. Admit it, or I will tickle you.” He licked her ear.
Shards of pleasure raced through her, making her shiver.
He went on, “In deference to your condition, I’ll use my tongue to do it. As long as it takes to get a full and complete confession.”
She closed her eyes, savoring the feel of Justice surrounding her. How had she gotten to this place of such happiness? But she wasn’t going to play the game his way. “What if I confess? Will there be a punishment?”
He dragged his hand up, skimming beneath her bra to tweak her nipple. “Hmm. What would you consider suitable?”
“Well, if I used my mouth to lie, maybe I should put it to better use.” She turned in his arms and undid his belt, along with the button and zipper on his jeans. His engorged cock spilled out into her hands, hot, smooth skin stretched over steel. Running her fingers along the length and around the swollen head wrung a shudder from him.
“You make me so fucking hard.” He leaned down, kissing her, driving his tongue into her mouth.
She loved the way he showed her exactly how excited she made him. It was so real and sexy, she squirmed. Breaking the kiss, she slid to her knees, fisting the base of his cock. The head strained toward her, and Liza leaned forward, dragging her tongue over the sensitive slit.
* * *
Wild heat slammed into him, searing Justice’s balls. He couldn’t resist taking the big clip out of Beth’s hair and burying his fingers in it. The heavy strands filled his hands, as sensual and sweet as the woman licking his dick.
He gazed down at her, and his chest caught. Beth. His girl. He’d never had this with anyone, this ability to play and laugh, and in the next second, unleash a passion that stripped him raw. It was so much more than sex.
She swirled her tongue around his head, then closed her lips over his length and sucked him. Watching his cock slide deep into her mouth nearly undid him. He hissed, his entire body bowing at the sensation. He wasn’t going to last. She did this to him, drove him to the edge of the cliff.
Pressure swelled. “You’re going to make me come,” he warned her, giving her a chance back off. But she cupped his balls, her thumb brushing over the sensitive strip of skin.
His orgasm raced down his spine. “Fuck,” he growled. His control snapped. Planting his feet, he pumped into her mouth and exploded, totally surrendering to the bliss crashing through him in wrenching waves. Finally, his cock slowed its pulsing and slipped from Beth’s mouth.
Pulling her up, he buried his face in her hair, inhaling the warm peach scent. “What you do to me.” He didn’t even have words. Tilting her head back, he eyed her flushed face and wet lips. He wanted more, wanted to drive her to the wicked edge of pleasure until she came with wild abandon. “That’s only half your punishment. The other half is going to require you to get naked and—”
Her cell phone dinged a text message. Justice reached into her back pocket, tugging it out. “No distractions.” He glanced at the screen and froze. “Noah.” Shock blasted through him. Shifting his gaze to her, he said, “My dad?” Beth texted Noah occasional little things and sent pictures of Justice on stage. But Noah rarely answered her.
The heat of passion cleared from her eyes. “Open it. See what he says.”
Dual sensations of jealousy and relief clashed inside him. His dad was talking to Beth, reaching out to her but not him. He knew logically his dad couldn’t talk to him for reasons of his own.
But that old pain kicked logic’s ass, and it just hurt.
Beth smoothed her fingers over his face.
Getting out of his head, he focused on her. She’d told him to look at the message. He wanted to, but his dad was building a trust with Beth, something Noah hadn’t been able to do with his own wife, his mom or his son. Was Justice going to stomp on that? Hell no.
He forced himself to hand her the phone. “You read it. He’s reaching out to you, I don’t want to screw that up.” He stepped back to give her space and yanked up his pants. The sharp edges of his old pain blunted. If he was going to trust anyone to connect with his dad, it was Beth.
She opened the message and scanned it. “Oh no. Noah says, Hit by a car last night. Arm broken. Can you help me?”
Adrenaline powered into his veins. “Where is he?”
“He didn’t say that.”
His worst fears materialized—his dad was injured and Justice didn’t know where he was to help him. “Shit. Will he answer if you call him?” Was his dad even in San Diego? For a few years, he’d traveled around the state, sometimes farther.
“Maybe.” She thumbed her screen, then put the phone to her ear. “Ringing.”
Justice held his breath, his head pounding with helplessness. They had to get to his dad. And what would happen when Justice was gone on tour? Would Beth try to go to his dad alone? That sent a chill down his spine. His dad wouldn’t hurt her, but someone else could. Beth was pregnant and too damned softhearted.
“Noah, I got your text.” She motioned Justice closer so he could hear.
He leaned in.
Beth added, “Where are you? Can I come get you?”
“Don’t want a hospital. Hate them.” His dad’s voice was thin and stressed.
Memories of his dad in that bed in the VA hospital, burned and broken, washed over Justice. Noah had gone through months of pure hell. And the whole time, he’d rarely talked. Except at night when he screamed.
Justice shuddered and stepped away. “Tell him we won’t leave him in a hospital. Swear it. We’ll just get him treated.”
“Noah, I promise, I won’t leave you in a hospital. But if you’re hurt and I can’t treat you, I have to get you help. Trust me, I won’t let them admit you unless you agree.”
Relieved, Justice leaned in to continue listening.
“He’s there, isn’t he?”
Justice’s heart jammed into his throat.
“Yes. Justice is right here with me. He wanted me to reassure you that we won’t let them keep you in a hospital. Noah, please let me help you. I’ll come alone if you want.” Her eyes turned to him. Sorry, she mouthed.
In that moment, he loved her so goddamned much. But no way would he let her go alone. Most homeless people were safe, but a few were on the run from more than their internal demons. He slipped his hand beneath her hair to cup her nape and listened.
“Maybe need him. Dizzy.”
Beth trembled beneath his hand, but her voice was calm. “All right. We’ll be there. Just tell me where you are.”
“By Petco Park.”
Justice nodded. “The baseball stadium, I know it.” He’d found his dad near there in the past where some homeless people gathered.
She nodded. “Noah, can you stay on the phone with me?”
“No. Call me when you’re here.” He hung up.
* * *
In the car, Justice drove while Liza frantically tried to think of the best way to get Noah treatment. “Ben!” She scrolled through her contacts, found Ben’s number and typed out a quick message.
“What are you doing?”
“Telling Ben what’s happening. I don’t know if he’s on shift at the hospital or home. But he might be able to help us if he knows Noah’s situation. Does your dad have VA insurance?”
“He’s eligible. No idea if he keeps it up. I’ll pay for him, we just have to—”
She put her hand on Justice’s bulging arm. “I know. I’m trying to give Ben information.” She finished up and sent the message.
He turned to meet her gaze. “Thank you.”
“I haven’t done anything yet.”
“Yes, you have. He texted you for help. He hasn’t done that. Not to me and not to Grandma, who was his mom.”
“I don’t know why he talks to me. My only guess is it’s a connection to you. Did you see his face the night he watched you sing? It was heart wrenching. Like a starving person staring at food they can’t reach. He loves you, Justice.”
He took a breath in what seemed like an effort to believe her. “Will you feel safe with him staying at our house?”
Startled, she said, “It’s his house too. Always. He can come home anytime he wants to.” Stroking his arm, she added, “Your dad isn’t going to hurt me.” But he might hurt himself. She’d learned from her research that was more typical behavior of people suffering severe forms of PTSD rather than hurting others.
He tapped his index finger on the steering wheel. “He has nightmares, well night terrors really. He doesn’t sleep much. He’s skittish and jumpy. The tension of living with him can be tough.”
In that second it all came flooding back to her. Her own night terrors, the absolute fear that if she slept, bad things would happen to her while she was helpless. Hot tears filled her eyes, shocking her.
“Hey, Beth. Sh, it’s okay. I’ll figure something out.”
She shook her head and wiped away her tears. “You know that moment when you’re almost asleep and you sometimes jerk?”
“Yeah?” His voice softened as he checked the road then looked at her in concern.
“I’d jerk awake in full-bore panic. Sweating, screaming, guts churning. I’d throw up from the terror. Then lay on the bathroom floor, the only place I felt safe—in the small locked space with blazing lights.”
Justice grabbed her hand. “What did your aunt and uncle do?”
“They tried to help, but they were so stressed, tired and worried about their own kids.” The memory calmed her stupid tears. “But this isn’t about me. I meant that I’m not going to judge your dad. It’ll be rough, but I’ll understand. I won’t make things worse for him.”
“Have you slept on the bathroom floor when I’m gone?”
She hesitated.
He jerked his head around, gaze intense. “Beth? The truth.”
“Not all night. I’ve sat in there once or twice, calming down. Then I sit in our bed and write, like we often do when you’re home. Sometimes I play your music on my phone. That calms me.”
“Shit. I’m going on tour, I won’t be here.” He glanced at her, his mouth flattening. “You can handle this, right? My being gone, being pregnant, dealing with my dad if he’s there. You won’t cut.”
“Stop worrying about me, I can handle almost anything.” A face loomed up in her mind. “Except Gene Hayes. As long as he leaves me alone—” She shook her head, stopping herself. How had they gotten off track? This wasn’t about her right now. “Let’s get your dad. It makes me sick to think of him hurting and alone. And I know it’s a million times worse for you.” Her phone rang. Glancing at the screen, she said, “It’s Ben.”
While Justice drove, she talked to Ben, quickly running down the situation.
“Bring him to the emergency entrance, ask for me. Two doctors here are former military, and I believe some nurses are too. They might be able to connect with Mr. Cade. We’ll get him treated. And, Liza, don’t worry. Just stay calm. The last thing Mr. Cade needs is anyone else getting upset as he tries to cope.”
“What do I do for his arm?”
“Immobilize it the best you can. Call me if you need to. I’ll do my best to help over the phone. Otherwise, get him warm and assure him we’re not going to do anything without his agreement.”
“Thank you, Ben.” Gratefulness overwhelmed her.
It took them another twenty minutes to find Noah in the park area across from the stadium. He sat against a tree, shivering in the late-afternoon sunshine. She wasn’t close enough to see his face clearly, but the way he cradled his right arm across his body telegraphed pain.
Noah saw them and hunched his shoulders.
Stopping, she laid a hand on Justice’s arm. His muscles were rock hard, almost humming with his worry and frustration. He shoved his sunglasses up, his eyes dark and troubled.
“Let me talk to him first,” Liza said.
He glanced at his dad then back to her. “Go.”
Crossing to Noah, she knelt close enough to see fresh, raw scrapes on his face over the scars. One cut near his temple had dried blood around it, but still oozed. Concussion? His jacket and pants had streaks of dirt and some rips. “Hi, Noah. You’re looking rough.”
He shifted his stare to her. “It’s my good arm. Can’t fight without it. Other arm isn’t good for much except eating and pissing.”
She snorted in surprise. “Ah. Now I see where Justice gets his bluntness.”
The man’s gaze went to his son. “Hate him seeing me like this.”
“He’s not liking it either.” She didn’t see any reason to lie, Noah wasn’t an idiot. “It made him crazed to think of you in pain. He wants to help you, Noah.”
He nodded once. “My forearm is broken, hit my head pretty good. Confused most of the night, not sure how I got here.”
God. “All right. The plan is to take you to the hospital where my friend Ben is a physician. He’s arranging your care. He promised me they won’t do anything to you without your permission. I’ll stay with you where I can if you want me to.”
“You going to buy me French fries and chocolate too?”
It took her a second to remember the night she’d told him everyone needs French fries and chocolate after they get out of the hospital. He had to be in agony and was still able to tease her. She frowned at him. “Only if you agree to come home to heal.”
Noah closed his eyes, pain wrenching his features. His scars whitened. A few seconds passed, then he seemed to regain control and opened his eyes, his gaze flicking to Justice and back to her. “Don’t have a choice. I want my fries supersized, and a chocolate milkshake.”
* * *
Justice waited as Beth knelt by his father, her voice pitched too low for him to hear. But he could see his dad relaxing. She turned and motioned him over.
It had been six months since he’d last seen his dad for those brief moments when they’d picked him up at the jail and drove him to the house.
And now, there he was, looking so damned old and fragile. Not the big, strapping man who fought wars and laughed loudly enough to wake the dead.
Go. Take care of your dad.
Up close, his dad looked worse. Ragged beard streaked with gray, cuts and abrasions on his face. Weary lines digging into the tender skin around his eyes. And the scars on the side of his temple, cheek and neck from the bomb that exploded, marking his father forever. Those scars made people’s eyes slide away in horror.
“Dad, the car isn’t too far. Can you walk?”
Weariness radiated from him. “Yeah.”
“He says his right forearm is broken. I’m thinking he might have a concussion too.” Beth looked up at him. “Can you get your arm around him and help him up?”
Justice moved slowly, positioning himself at his dad’s left. He ignored the smell of old sweat and sickness. “I’m going to help you to your feet, then keep hold of you to get you to the car.”
His dad stared straight ahead. “Sorry.”
That one word dug in so deep it nearly undid him. What had it cost this man to ask for help? “I’m not. I’ll come any time you need me.” He didn’t give his dad time to respond, just said, “Now let’s get you up.”
Once Noah stood, it didn’t take them long to get him in the car. Beth fussed around him, cushioning his arm on a pillow and covering him in a blanket.
His dad didn’t protest, just sat in that distant, quiet way that Justice had found strange as a teenager. Almost frightening.
Now? It broke his fucking heart.