Heart Surgeon, Hero...Husband?

That sounded like a well-rehearsed litany of events, even to her ears.

“Have you tried to contact his father since Jake was listed? I’d want to know if my son needed a transplant.” “No.” The word came out jagged and tart. “Why?”

Yes, why? Why wouldn’t he leave it alone? “He wouldn’t be interested.” She couldn’t conceal her bitterness.

“Why not?”

Hannah took her time finishing the bite of donut she’d just taken before she said, “He left us.” She paused. “I shouldn’t have married him to begin with. I think I just fell in love with the idea of being married. For him, I think his mother thought I could settle him down. By the time I realized we had no business being married, I was pregnant. Turns out I didn’t have to leave him. He packed his bags and was gone. I found out later he already had someone else by then.”

Scott’s harsh, crude words filled the space between them.

“I couldn’t agree with you more. He wasn’t too sure about having children to begin with and when Jake was born with a heart problem he couldn’t get past the idea that his child wasn’t perfect. His answer was to run.” She made it sound like she was giving a statement to a newspaper reporter. Just the facts. “Anyway, I have Jake, and he’s the best thing that has ever happened to me. He’s my life. All I’ve got. I won’t lose him too.”

“We’ll do our best to get Jake out of here soon.”

“I sure hope so.” She picked out another donut. Her eyes closed in delight as she took the first bite out of it.

“Like these, do ya?” The words were filled with Scott’s mirth.

She opened her eyes and nodded as she licked the sticky sweetness from her upper lip, and began to flick away the grains of sugar that had fallen on her chest.

Scott’s laughter stopped as his eyes followed her movements.

An uncharacteristic warmth settled over her. The fine hairs at the nape of her neck stood as straight as corn on her granddaddy’s farm. She tried to concentrate on what she was doing. Seconds ticked by.

His gaze rose and locked with hers, held.

Scott’s pupils had widened and darkened, giving him the intent look of a predator. Suddenly, the light button-down top she wore seemed heavy and hot against her skin.

Mercy, she was in over her head. He could still do it to her. She placed her donut on a napkin and stood. “Um, I think I need some cream for my coffee. Can I get you some?”

She needed to move away from him, get out of the room, but she had to pass Scott to do so. His intense look still clung to her.

“It hurts you don’t remember I take my coffee black,” he said in the indulgent voice of a man who knew she was trying to escape and why.