The Bad Son

“Beau…”

“What?”

“Go home. You can’t rest here.”

“I’ve slept on worse.” He leaned his head on the cushion. “Go back to your sister.”

“You’re a special man, Beau McCain.”

“Mmm.” He closed his eyes. “I’ll remind you of that one of these days.”

Her lips brushed his forehead and his eyes flew open. The scent of her filled his nostrils—lilacs and fresh soap—and for a moment he was lost in the sensation. But damn, his mother kissed him like that. He didn’t want those kind of kisses from Macy. He wanted the real thing.

Macy disappeared around the corner and he made himself as comfortable as he could on the hardest sofa he’d ever slept on. He stared up at the ceiling, sleep the furthest thing from his mind. Here he was with Macy because that’s where he wanted to be. He blew out a hard breath, knowing he was in so deep that putting distance between himself and Macy was not going to make a difference.

Why was he trying to fool himself?

BEAU NAPPED ON AND OFF. At six he stretched and went in search of coffee. A nurse finally gave him a cup. As he sipped it, he saw Macy down the hall talking to a doctor. He walked over and realized she wasn’t talking, but arguing in a way he’d never seen her do before.

“I insist you run a full battery of tests,” she was saying.

“I’ve been doing this a long time and in my opinion I feel it’s unnecessary,” the doctor replied.

“I want the tests done,” Macy repeated in a stubborn voice Beau knew well. Evidently the doctor did, too.

“Fine, Macy. Just calm down and let me do my job.” The doctor strolled away to the nursery.

“What’s wrong?” Beau asked.

“The birth went smoothly and the baby seemed fine. But when we checked her in the nursery we detected a low-pitched intermittent inspiratory sound. Dr. Pender feels it’s stridor which we see in some newborns.”

“And he doesn’t feel it’s anything serious?”

“No.” Her chin jutted out.

“And you do?”

“Yes. Something’s wrong. I know it is.” Her voice wavered slightly.

“What do you think it is?”

“Her heart. Dr. Pender feels I’m overreacting. I told him how our sister died from an atrial septal defect when she was two days old but he thinks I’m just being paranoid.” She paced back and forth in agitation. Beau had never seen her quite like this. She didn’t trust the doctor and he wondered why.

He caught her by the forearms and stopped her. “Calm down and take a deep breath. They’ll run the tests and find out for sure.”

“I suppose.” She drew in deeply several times. “The baby is so tiny, a little over five pounds.”

“But otherwise healthy?”

“Yes. Her blood sugar is fine and there’s no fluid on her lungs.”

But he heard a note of distrust again. “Then trust him.” Her expression didn’t change. “I need another cup of coffee. Come with me to the cafeteria.”

“No. I want to be here for the baby.”

Beau took her elbow. “Let the doctor do his job, and you need a break. We’ll only be gone a minute.”

She removed her scrubs without a word of protest and followed him to the elevator. In the cafeteria, she took a seat and he ordered the coffee. This early the place was empty except for two nurses in a corner. He noticed a couple of boxes of fresh donuts that had just been delivered.

Macy loved donuts. It was her weakness. He paid for two and carried them with the coffee to the table.

She looked at the donuts, then at him. “Are you trying to make me fat?”

“Impossible.” He took a seat. “You burn off more energy than anyone I know. These are to cheer you up.”

“You’re eating one.” She made a face at him.

“Deal.”

She dipped one into her coffee and ate it delicately, like a child. He enjoyed watching her. She licked the icing from her lips and eyed the half-eaten donut on his plate. “Aren’t you finishing that?”

He pushed it across to her. “You can have it.” It was common for them to eat off each other’s plates and he considered if maybe they were too comfortable with each other. Maybe there was no excitement or mystery left. He didn’t believe that, though. A whole new dimension of emotions was just waiting for them, if only she’d let it happen.

She finished it in record time and wiped her mouth. “Now I feel better. I’ll be on a sugar high for the rest of the day, but I’m better.”

Sipping his coffee, Beau turned his thoughts to something else. “Why don’t you trust the doctor?”

She looked at him over the rim of her cup. His eyes were dark and warm, like the coffee, and just as stimulating. Now was the time to tell him her secret, her insecurities and her fears. Something held her back. She trusted him more than anyone, but she still wasn’t ready to expose the monster under her bed.

“I guess I’m too closely involved.”

“She’s your sister.”

She nodded. “I know what you’re going to say—not to get emotionally attached because Delia and the baby could be gone tomorrow.”

“Yes.”

She twisted her cup. “It’s not easy for me. My parents turned their backs on Delia. I can’t do that. I have to be here for her and the baby.”

“I know.” He drained his cup.

She reached out and ran the back of her hand across his cheek, feeling his stubble against her sensitive fingers.

He rubbed his jaw. “I need a shave.”

“I like it.”

“Really?”