| |
Garrison shifted in the fake leather chair by his son's bed. Aiden was still sound asleep and didn't look to be waking up any time soon. There was no time to sit here and watch his kid sleep.
He needed to locate his car. Fortunately, the keys and Aiden's phone had been in his pocket when he'd been brought in the night before. Garrison had taken both. Now he just had to figure out where the party had been.
He took his phone into the hallway and dialed the local police department. After explaining what he wanted three times, he finally managed to get an address.
He checked on Aiden—still sleeping—and summoned Uber for a ride to his car. The Camry seemed fine, so that was something, especially since Aiden had left it unlocked again. The least of Garrison's worries. He swung through the Dunkin' Donuts drive-through on his way back to the hospital and picked up a large coffee, a breakfast sandwich, and a dozen donuts.
By the time he returned to the hospital, Aiden was awake.
"Hey, kiddo. How you feeling?"
Aiden turned his face away from his father's, but not fast enough to hide the moisture in his eyes.
Garrison clasped his son's shoulder. "You gave me a scare."
"Sorry about that."
He squeezed the shoulder gently. "We'll talk about it later. Right now, I'm just glad you're okay."
Behind him, a woman with the raspy voice of a chain-smoker said, "We looked for you."
Garrison turned as a new nurse, not the gentle one from the night before, walked in and gave him a hard stare.
"Went to get the car, so I could take him straight home."
"You shouldn't leave your son in the ER alone. He's a minor."
She was right, of course. On the other hand... "Seemed safer to leave him alone here than to leave him alone later while I searched for my car. And he was sleeping. And he's seventeen years old."
"Mmm-hmm." She didn't say another word while she checked Aiden's blood pressure and temperature. Finally, she turned to leave.
"Any idea when we can go home?"
"Be patient, sir." It had to be some kind of skill to put so much disrespect in three words. "He's not our only patient." She left the room and slammed the door.
"Geez, Dad, what'd you do to piss her off?"
He turned back to Aiden. "Just being my normal charming self."
"That explains it."
Garrison chuckled as he sat beside the bed. The laugh died quickly, and the room filled with tension as thick as peanut butter.
He had food on the brain. "Are you hungry? I have donuts in the car."
"No."
"Okay."
Aiden closed his eyes.
What should Garrison do? For all her faults—and they were myriad—Charlene would know how to handle this. What to say, what to do. Later, she'd salve her pain with a couple pills, but in the moment, she'd be top notch. Garrison—he didn't have a clue. He wanted to touch his son again, to hold him like he had when he'd caught Aiden and Matty on the roof throwing rocks at passing cars. They'd been, what, nine years old? Ten?
Garrison had sent Matty home after a call to his mother, then reamed Aiden out for the utter stupidity, the selfishness, the danger.
He could still remember the boy's wide, teary eyes, that trembling lip, the uttered, "I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again."
When Garrison was sure Aiden had gotten the message, he'd pulled his boy into his arms and held him like a toddler, patted his back, reminded him how much he loved him.
Now, Garrison longed to gather this man-child in his arms. But would Aiden push him away like he'd been doing ever since Garrison and Charlene had split?
He'd only tried to protect Aiden, yet here they were. And they'd been lucky. All those drugs...
The thought of what could have happened had Garrison's eyes stinging again. He took Aiden's hand and waited for the boy to yank it away.
But Aiden didn't.
He met his son's eyes. "We're going to get you help."
Aiden looked away, but the hand stayed put.
"I love you more than you'll ever know," Garrison said.
Aiden nodded but kept quiet.
What else was there to say? They sat in silence until the nurse returned and said they could go.
* * *
GARRISON GLANCED AT Aiden, who was asleep in the passenger seat. At least the kid hadn't protested when Garrison told him the plan. All he'd said was, "Why New Hampshire?"
"I have a friend there, and she has an empty cabin she can loan us."
He'd waited for the boy to question him further, especially about the she part of his statement, but apparently Aiden hadn't had it in him. Garrison had packed a bag for each of them and taken them to the trunk of the car. For some reason, his emergency supplies were all shoved to one side. Who knew what Aiden had been up to? He threw the suitcases in.
They'd been driving more than four hours when Garrison pulled off the interstate toward Nutfield.
Aiden didn't stir. Garrison was so tired he could hardly keep his eyes open. He could have used some conversation. Even silent tension would've worked. It was one thing to stay up all night, but all the emotions had taken their toll, too. His eyes felt like sandpaper, his arms like dead weights. He sipped his third cup of coffee and focused on the fact that they were almost there.
He glanced at his phone's screen, at the map to the address Sam had texted to him.
He turned off the main road and got his first glimpse of Clearwater Lake since March. Back then, he'd come here to help rescue a four-year-old girl from the greedy dirtbag who'd kidnapped her. Last he'd heard, Marisa and little Ana were doing well, living right here in Nutfield. Maybe Garrison would get to see them and Nate while he was here.
But unlike last March, he was the one who needed help this time. He didn't much appreciate the new role his son had given him—pathetic, clueless father. He hated being the needy one, but no one knew better than he what a farce his heroics had been—the powerful former FBI agent, here to protect the world. What a joke. Maybe it was good to be honest with Sam, to be vulnerable. Maybe it would be okay for her, for all his friends in Nutfield, to see him like a normal person, not an agent, not a hero.
He glanced at his sleeping son, thought again of all the drugs that had been in the boy's system.
Yes, Garrison needed help to figure this out, and he'd take it wherever he could get it. If that meant ruining his chances with Sam, then so be it. Aiden came first, and getting him clean trumped everything else.
Ten minutes later, he turned the car onto what looked like a path in the forest. The narrow dirt drive led to a little wood-sided cabin.
A white Isuzu was parked out front.
His heartbeat raced. It had been nearly five months since he'd laid eyes on Sam. How would she see him now?
He wished circumstances were different so he could make a different impression on the woman who'd so captivated him. He'd probably planted himself forever in the just-friends garden.
He parked beside Sam's car and nudged Aiden. "We're here."
Aiden sat up, stretched, and looked around. "Geez, Dad, could you have found anyplace more secluded?"
Garrison lightly punched him. "Keep it up, we'll be headed to Canada."
Aiden opened his car door. He was about to step out when Samantha exited the cabin.
Aiden froze, turned to him, eyebrows raised. "A friend?"
"We met last spring. Remember I told you about the case I helped solve—"
"She's the one with the kid?"
"No. She was just helping them out."
"Right," Aiden said. "A friend."
"Just—"
"Whatever."
Garrison stepped out of the car and walked to the bottom of the front porch steps.
Sam had on a Plymouth State T-shirt and blue jeans, and both had splotches where she'd splashed something on them. Her long brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she wore no makeup.
She was so beautiful, his heart nearly stopped.
She hiked her purse over her shoulder, walked down the steps, and stood a foot from him. He'd forgotten how tiny she was, slender with curves in all the right places. The top of her head reached almost to his shoulder. He longed to hug her, to touch her, but with Aiden behind him, he didn't dare.
"Hey," she said.
"Thanks for all this."
"It's my pleasure." Her gaze darted to Aiden's door. The kid still hadn't stepped out. "I hope it's not a problem I'm here. I thought I'd be finished before you got here. You made really good time."
"I'm glad you're here."
She smiled, and a little pink tinged her cheeks. Wow, he was in trouble.
The car door slammed, and Garrison snapped out of it.
Sam blinked twice. "I was just finishing up. The place is clean, the linens are washed."
"You didn't have to do all that."
Aiden stopped beside Garrison.
"This is my son. Aiden, this is Samantha Messenger."
Aiden stood there, half awake, and stared.
Garrison nudged him, and the kid remembered his manners. He reached forward and shook her hand. "Nice to meet you."
At least in that way, Garrison had trained his son well. Shake hands, make eye contact, speak clearly.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, too. Your father's told me a lot about you."
"Right. I'd hate to hear what he said."
"All good stuff. He's very proud of you."
Aiden frowned, gave his dad a side look.
Garrison clasped the boy on the shoulder. "I am, of course." He turned to Sam.
She held his gaze a moment, then dug in her purse and pulled out her car keys. "I grabbed a few groceries, just enough to get you through breakfast tomorrow."
"You didn't need to do that."
A shadow crossed her features. A moment passed, then, "That's what friends are for."
Friends. Of course.
"The cabin key is on the kitchen table. Let me know if you need anything."
"Will do." He wanted to follow her to the SUV, talk with her privately, thank her again for all she'd done. Instead, he watched as she backed out and drove away.
"Right," Aiden said. "Just a friend."
Garrison ignored him and climbed the steps.