Page 131 of Big Bad Wolfe

“Aunt Jelly, Zane blowed up his shoulder.” The little boy gingerly touched the ice pack to his nose. He stared up at Zane, his expression rapt. “Did ya cry?”

“I didn’t blowupmy shoulder, I blewoutmy shoulder. That means I damaged the joint and the muscles. And I almost cried.”

Because real men didn’t cry.

He’d expected too much from the child, just as his father had always expected too much of him. Even though Casey was obviously nervous and reluctant, Zane had pushed him to play third base, just like his father had pushed him and his brothers.

Zane gently brushed the hair from Casey’s forehead with cold, trembling fingers. “It’s okay to cry when you need to.” He wished he could release the tears pressing behind his own eyelids. But his inability to let go only proved once again that Stoneheart’s legacy was too deeply ingrained.

Casey’s lower lip quivered. “I sorta need to.”

“You’re doing great.” Jillian shot Zane a compassionate glance. “Both of you.”

Zane’s throat constricted. When she found out he’d forced Casey into a position he wasn’t ready to handle, she’d be furious. He stroked comfortingly down Casey’s slim arm, enfolded his son’s tiny fingers in his palm.

The breath jammed in his lungs. In a remarkably short period of involvement with his son, he’d managed to accomplish the very thing he’d been striving all his life to avoid.

His worst nightmare had come true.

Chapter 21

The ride to the hospital passed in a blur. Zane carried his son into the ER. While Jillian dealt with admitting, Zane followed a brunette nurse wearing dark blue scrubs to an exam cubicle.

Casey had stopped crying in the car. The instant Zane laid him on the gurney, he started sobbing again. “Don’t let go! Don’t let go of me, Zane!” He clutched Zane’s shirt. “Don’t let them nurses stick me with a big old needle!”

He hugged Casey gently. “Nobody is going to hurt you.”

Casey stared up at him. “Promise?”

“I promise.” With all his heart and soul. With everything he had. Everything he was.

A short, baby-faced guy in dark slacks, white shirt and bright cartoon tie strode through the curtain. “Hey, Casey. What happened to you?”

“Hi, Dr. John,” Casey sniffled, much calmer. “Donnie Ray bashed me in the nose with a softball. But it wasn’t on purpose.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll fix that right up.” He turned to Zane. “Hello, I’m Dr. John Torrence.”

“How old are you?” Zane blurted.

Dr. Torrence laughed. “I get that a lot. I’m thirty, have a real medical degree and everything. I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“Zane Wolfe, Casey’s—” Zane choked. “Casey’s friend.”

The doctor nodded thoughtfully. Zane got the feeling he understood far more than Zane wanted him to. “Is Jillian here?”

“She’s still in admitting.”

“Okay. Let’s take a look.” He leaned over Casey. “Was he unconscious?”

Casey clung to Zane’s hand as the doctor gently examined his nose. Zane gave the tiny fingers a reassuring squeeze. His horrific catapult into the past had eclipsed everything that had happened on the field after Casey was hit. “I’m not sure. If he was, it was only for a couple seconds.”

“You know, Casey,” Dr. Torrence said in a teasing tone as he flashed a penlight in the child’s eyes. “If you want to rearrange a face, you should just play with a Mr. Potato Head.”

The little boy giggled as Jillian entered the cubicle. “Is there a party going on in here?”

Now that Jillian had arrived, Zane tried to pull back, but Casey wouldn’t let go of his hand. Jillian slid her arm around his waist, drawing him close to her warmth as she stood next to the exam table. The two people he loved held him tightly, bringing him into their circle.

“Zane?” Jillian asked quietly. Her arm tightened around him. “You all right?”

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