“Yes.”
“I remember when you told me about your dad, years ago. I asked why you didn’t tell me.”
A grin lifts my cheeks. “I asked you what you would have done.”
“Here I am, Kandace. I’m here to hold your hand or whatever you need.”
My eyes close as I lean against his broad chest and inhale his scent. It’s bodywash and deodorant and worry that emanates from within. Compared to the scent of the hospital, it’s heavenly.
“Dad—” I begin.
“I went to the waiting room first and talked to your mom. She said that he’s still in surgery.”
I nod as more tears clog my throat, making me gasp for air. “We just don’t know.”
Dax looks down at my tray. At the same time, Justin joins us.
My brother looks at Dax. With his lips in a straight line, Justin nods. “Thanks for coming.”
“There’s no place else for me to be.”
“Do you want to eat?” I ask Dax.
“I’ll join you drinking coffee. There was late-night construction on 65. I’ve been driving for a while.”
“Did you sleep?”
He shakes his head. “My guess is as much as you did.”
With coffees in hand and one for Mom plus her yogurt, we head back up to the waiting room.
“Thank you for coming, Dax,” Mom says as she takes her coffee and yogurt.
“If there’s anything I can do,” he says.
The two of us sit a little bit away from Mom and Justin. With the lids off our cups, Dax reaches for my hand. In my tired state, I stare down at our connection, unsure if I’m dreaming. When I look up, his gaze is on me. “You didn’t have to come.” Lifting my chin, I focus on him. “But I’m glad you did.”
“I meant what I said that I want to be part of your life. It’s what I told Randy the other night when we had a talk.”
“A talk? You had a talk with my dad?”
Dax nods. “It was while you were putting Molly to bed.”
I wiggle in my seat. “Dax, what did you and Dad talk about?”
“I didn’t plan on you knowing, not yet. I don’t think we’re ready or you are. I know I need to prove to you that I mean what I’m saying. I hurt you and that’s on me.”
My curiosity is piquing. “What am I not ready for?”
Our conversation is put on hold as a man in scrubs walks into the room and my chest tightens.
“Mrs. Sheers?”
Mom stands as Justin stands beside her. She reaches for his hand.
Dax and I both get out of our chairs and move closer. He still has my hand in his, keeping me steady. Yet, I’m now trembling, as if the temperature of the room suddenly plummets. Letting go of my hand, Dax wraps his arm around my lower back, and I lean into him.
“I’m Dr. Lambert. First, let me say, Randy did well in surgery.”