Page 69 of Reckless Love

After I stand to go, I stare down at Landon. I should leave. No, I need to leave. “I’m coming back. My mother is on the third floor, and after I have things with her figured out, I’ll sit with Landon again.”

“More the merrier,” Gage agrees. “Landon told me how much he liked you when you were on their detail. He’ll be glad to see you.”

His comment makes my chest unbearably tight. Obviously, Gage doesn’t know that Landon is mine, might be mine. He’s not that good an actor.

“You all right?” Gage asks, pulling up a second chair to Landon’s bedside.

“Yeah,” I say, distracted. My issue is obvious, but it’s not something I can say out loud, not until I understand more about how this happened. If it’s happened. I need to leave this room, but everything in me wants to stay. The idea of missing one more second of Landon’s life is a piercing ache. “I can’t decide if he’s still so little or if he’s so big.”

“Little,” Gage says with certainty. “So much life left to live. Thank god he’s okay.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, willing all these confusing feelings coursing through me to fall into something that resembles order. Just when I think I’m okay, another surge of something—anger, despair, frustration, confusion, love—causes an emotional short circuit.

“I’ll be back,” I say, and it takes all my effort to walk out of the room.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Stephen

Ihead straight for my mother’s room. It’s only as I’m standing outside her door that I realize how thrilled my parents will be to learn of Landon’s existence. If he’s mine. The coveted grandchild, one they’ve already spent some time with, a child my father once suspected could be mine.

I need another DNA test before I say anything to anyone. Celia could have let me think Landon was mine to get my blood. Maybe Raul’s blood type is also rare. All I have is suspicion, not proof. If I’m going to accuse anyone of anything, I need to be certain. There’s already one DNA test on record that says he’s not mine. Maybe that’s the truth and Celia’s expression in the waiting room is the lie.

The whole scenario is mind-boggling, and my brain feels like a pinball, zigging and zagging from one thought to another. Mine. Not mine. On an endless back and forth. I’m afraid to believe in either direction with my head and heart.

Unlike Landon’s room, there are four curtained areas with a bed in the room my mother is in. I peek around the last curtain, and my sister rises. But she doesn’t look relieved to see me.

“Who’s with Dad?”

“Rachael. Has someone been in here to see her?”

“Once. Just to tell us she broke her hip and to give her some pain relief.” Vanessa glances at our mother. “Whatever they gave her knocked her out, but at least she’s not in pain anymore.”

“Surgery?” I ask.

“Yeah,” Vanessa says, swallowing. “And then round-the-clock care. I don’t know…” She wrings her hands. “We’re already stretched so thin.”

I lean against the window and draw the curtain tighter around my mother’s bed. The murmurs of other conversations are all around us. Exhaustion is starting to fall over me like a sticky, annoying coating. The questions I have are endless, but I can’t ask them all tonight, especially not with other ears in the room. Still, I can’t help one.

“Did you hear that Raul Santos was in a car accident?”

She gives me a sharp look. “Why would I care if Raul Santos was in a car accident?”

“The car was also carrying Ava and their son, Landon.”

The color drains from her face, and I mutter a curse. I give Mom a long look, but she’s clearly sleeping. “In the hallway, now,” I say, my voice pitched low.

Vanessa scoots around the curtain and into the hallway with me hot on her heels. Instead of staying in the hall, though, I lead her to the stairwell. As soon as we’re alone, I whirl on her. “Did you have anything to do with the accident, Van?”

“Why would I have something to do with their car accident? Are you hearing yourself right now? I was with Mom and Dad.”

“Ava and Landon almost died. They almost fucking died. Ava’s still in surgery with a collapsed lung. If you had something to do with—”

“I didn’t, Stephen. I’m not out here trying to murder women and children.”

“Maybe just your boss, then?”

“No!” She straightens and stares me down. “No.” She crosses her arms. “Why would you even think any of this?”