Page 44 of Dr. Brandt

“That’s why we’re going to put an end to them,” I said. “You can’t be some devastatingly handsome kid and be weak in the knees by these annoying seizures, can you? We need you strong and healthy so everyone can fight over having you be their Prince Charming one day.”

“True,” he said, rolling his eyes at his current situation and probably my goofy prince charming statement.

“Can I get him some water?” Jessa asked.

“Yeah,” I said, helping Jackson to his feet after seeing him struggling to get up. “Let’s get Prince Charming up to the couch.” I looked at Jackson, seeing a bit of discomfort or embarrassment leave his expression, “You hungry, kid?”

“Nah,” he said with a shy smile. “I am sorry that happened.”

“You do realize that my entire livelihood revolves around that happening. It is quite literally my life’s work. Now, stop apologizing for shit you have no control over, and let’s get you settled.”

I was always driven to help make lives better and give children their lives back, freeing them from medical conditions that intruded on their normalcy. I still felt that way, but the desire to help Jackson was stronger, him being my son or not. He was a good kid; I could sense that a mile away. I could also see that these seizures were beating him down, and knowing his condition, they would only get worse.

I knew Jessa was concerned with the boy’s ability to play sports and do many other things that might be at risk after a hemispherectomy. Palmer and I had discussed what she’d talked about with Jessa, so I already had a heads-up prior to meeting Jessa and Jackson tonight.

It was also why I decided to go about it all this way, with dinner and all, because I needed to get Jessa to open up and let me understand her fears and concerns. Then, through the powers of my carne asada marinade, I would work to convince her that this surgery, and the new lifestyle that Jackson would have, would be worth so much more than his sports career.

I knew it wouldn’t be easy—hell, I’d gotten a scholarship from playing ball, so I understood the mentality—but Jessa and Jackson needed to see that sometimes our lives have these unexpected turns for a reason. We never know what the reasons are, but I’d seen enough through recovering patients to know that the reasons would manifest later. You just had to let shit play out.

Jackson was a good kid, and I knew there was a reason he likely wouldn’t play sports again after I disconnected the left hemisphere of his brain. I just needed him to see that life didn’t stop after this surgery. Life would go on, most likely in a direction he would’ve never taken.

Chapter Twenty-One

Jessa

When we walked up the steps to Cam’s beach house, my nerves were still tense from Jackson’s episode.

“Where can I get him some water?’ I questioned. Jackson was always thirsty and highly exhausted after a seizure.

“Already ahead of you,” Cameron said, walking over to his outdoor kitchen, which was nicely situated on his patio.

He was back before I could blink, handing the water to Jacks. “How’s the grip?” Cameron asked.

“Okay. Not as good as it should be, though,” Jacks answered.

“You just need to rest a little bit, buddy,” Cam said, walking to the sliding glass doors and leading us into his home.

“No kidding,” I heard Jacks answer with a smile in his voice.

It was almost eight in the evening, and if we were at home, Jacks would’ve probably been out for the rest of the night after having a seizure this late. It was his second seizure of the day, forcing me to acknowledge how badly he needed the surgery even though I was struggling to accept that, by going forward with it, he would lose the ability to do what he loved, play sports.

I needed to talk to Cam.

“I have a game room and theater downstairs. This level has an indoor pool, spa, gym, and, best of all, lounge seating. You know, all the good stuff for enjoying the view of the shore. Upstairs is all bedrooms, so if you just want to crash, pick your room,” Cameron announced while we walked through his immaculately decorated home.

“Wow, you sound like you’re selling us this beachfront real estate, Dr. Brandt,” I said with a smile, seeing Jack’s lips turn up into a lazy grin.

Jacks smeared his hand over his forehead and took a sip from the bottle of water Cameron had handed him. “I’ll just chill here,” he said, walking across the large living area surrounded by opened floor-to-ceiling sliding glass walls.

The cool breeze flowed nicely from the shore over the patio lining each side of this square home. The house wasn’t too cold, given the wall that didn’t have the ocean views, and it had a long custom gas fireplace that had warmed the room just enough to knock any extra chill out of the air.

I walked over to where Jackson sat on the chaise part of Cam’s soft cream-colored sofa. Everything was so relaxed in this home. But of course, it was Cam’s, and I would expect nothing less than a Cape-Cod style beach home décor. It was airy, spacious, and spotless with zero clutter.

“Damn, looks like you’re still Clean-Cam, eh?” I teased.

I was met with a dark stare from Jackson when my motherly instincts took over, and I grabbed a throw from the other side of the sofa and placed it over Jacks as if he were three.

“Seriously, Mom?” Jacks said as if I’d embarrassed him in front of a girlfriend.

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