Page 116 of Take Hold of Me

His eyes are closed. I watch his chest rise and fall as he rests, the monitors providing a soundtrack. I’ve been in too many hospitals in my life. I turn around to go get Mom when a feeble voice calls out, “Stay.”

I freeze.

Here’s the FPU I know. Commanding, even in weakness. Not asking for company but demanding it. And I’m still ten, wanting his approval. I turn. “Hi.”

The man on the bed swallows and motions for me to come closer. No matter how old I am, or how independent I claim to be, I can’t walk away. Shuffling to his side near his thighs, I mumble, “I’m here.”

He lifts his right hand up from the side of the bed, I.V. sticking from the top of his hand, and flicks his wrist twice. Expelling a breath, I take the few remaining steps to stand by his head.

“Take a seat, son.”

Son? I’m caught so off guard by his recognition of me as a part of him, that my ass plants onto the stool before my head can form a coherent thought.

Silence reigns between us, except for the monitors. I’m the first to breach the gap. “How are you feeling?”

“Like someone ripped open my chest.”

Can’t argue with him there. That’s exactly what the doctors did. I look around the room, my eyes landing on the water pitcher. “Do you want any water?”

He shakes his head. In a raspy voice, he says, “Listen, I’ve had time to think about my life. What I’ve required of you.”

And here comes the lecture about how much of a disappointment I am. Nothing ever changes. Before he can lay into me—which can’t be good for his recovery—my thighs tense to bring me upright.

“I’ve been too hard on you, son.”

My muscles turn to jelly. I remain rooted to the stool, unable to comprehend what he’s saying. Must be the morphine. I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

FPU wades back in, this time in even deeper waters. “You look surprised. I guess it took a heart attack to give me some perspective. I know I’ve pushed you. I just saw so much potential for you in the Marines.” He looks away from me. “You would’ve been an amazing Marine.”

“I didn’t want to follow in your footsteps.”

His eyes return to mine. They’re a cloudy blue, the color having lost its sharpness. “You wanted to find your own way in the world. Make your own mark. And you’ve done so much. It filled me with pride when you became a bodyguard. I knew you had my blood running through your veins, you just wanted to express it in a different way.”

Pride? He was proud? “You never said—”

He waves his hand, the I.V. catching on the blanket. He tries to free it, but it only snags more.

“Here, let me fix it, Dad.” When the last word leaves my mouth, we both freeze. I can’t remember the last time I called him that. Dad. Neither of us comments on it, but once the line is untangled, he continues, his voice becoming weaker.

“When you were shot, I was so worried for you. But, you are strong. You got right back up and returned to the field, guarding the rock star.”

“Cole,” I supply.

“Right, Cole and his fiancée. You protected them in the moment it mattered. It takes a real soldier to do what you did.”

It’s as if I’m outside my body, looking down at a man I don’t recognize. “But my partners—” I can’t complete the sentence.

“Were killed. I know. Even under such dire circumstances, you stood up. That takes more courage than most people ever would hope to possess.”

“I didn’t save them.”

“No, you didn’t. But you can’t save everyone, and they were trained professionals. Would they have wanted you to simply lay down and let that madwoman kill you and their clients?”

“No, of course, not.”

“Like I said, you can’t save everyone, son. Hell, I couldn’t even save myself from this.” He looks around his hospital room, then closes his eyes.

I’ve never heard such words from my father in my entire life. It was always I was a “disappointment.” I try to assimilate what he’s just said with the man who made my childhood with my twin a nightmare, but I can’t. I roll the stool backward and his eyes pop open again.

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