Page 99 of Private Exhibit
Oliver nodded at something Hayden said, and the two boys slowly stood. They started to move in Andy's direction, leaning on one another. Oliver dropped heavily into a seat, and Hayden was about to do the same when a door burst open and Thomas Pennington came storming into the room.
Gods almighty. Even the subtlety of his facial expressions couldn't mask his obvious fury. Andy slowly blinked as he watched Thomas scan the room before heading straight for Hayden. He saw the man's barely contained rage. A part of him knew that he ought to get up and make sure the boy was safe, but Andy couldn't bring himself to move.
And it turned out not to matter, anyway. Thomas stopped right in front of Hayden, his jaw ticking and his hands in fists at his sides as he studied his husband's face.
“Is he alright?” Thomas bit off.
Hayden burst into tears. “I don't know.”
Thomas carefully pulled the boy into his arms, holding him like a delicate piece of glass.
Andy slumped back in the chair, his entire body trembling.
Thomas held Hayden for a long moment, taking slow, deep breaths, visibly trying to keep himself under control. Finally, hepulled back and gently cupped Hayden's face between his hands. “You are getting a scan right now,” the man murmured, “and you are not going to argue with me.”
Hayden immediately nodded. “Yes, Daddy,” he choked out.
Thomas put an arm around Hayden's shoulders and steered him over to the nearest nurses' station.
“How bad is it?” Oliver suddenly whispered. “Really?”
Andy couldn't even look at him. He shook his head and clenched his hands into fists. Andy worked his jaw, trying to say something, trying to hold onto hope, but he couldn't make the words come out.
Oliver silently nodded, then reached over and grabbed the bag he'd brought with him. The boy set the bag in front of Andy. “Just in case,” he said, pointing at it.
Andy blinked dumbly at the sight of a pair of his shoes sitting right on top inside the bag. He looked down, noticing his bare feet.Hells. He'd been so panicked, he hadn't thought about anything else. He could have been naked and not even realized it. At least he had on flannel pants and a t-shirt instead of just his boxers. Andy dug out the sneakers and a pair of socks, then froze.
Another, smaller pair of shoes rested at the bottom of the bag.
Oliver's breath hitched. “He'll need those when he comes home. Right?”
Andy dropped his shoes and hid his face in his hands.
A phone beeped.
Oliver jumped up with a gasp. “Be right back,” he blurted out.
Andy slowly looked up and watched the boy hurry away.
Dad?
Andy gasped and looked all around. He spotted Junior across the room, watching him with concern. Andy shot to hisfeet, crossed the space in a few, long strides, and seized his son in his arms.
He didn't care how it looked. He didn't care if, to everyone else, it seemed like he was holding nothing but air. Andy needed to hold his son. To remind himself that Junior was still there.
To remind himself that Devon would be, too.
It just wouldn't be the same.
Oh my gods, Dad, Junior gasped, hugging him back.Is he–
Not yet, Andy replied, then shook his head.But it's not good.
Junior hugged him tighter.I'm so sorry.
Andy swallowed down the urge to cry. He put one arm around Junior's shoulders and the other hand on the back of Junior's head. Andy cursed. He felt a semblance of skin and bones, but it wasn't the same. He felt hair, but the texture wasn't quite right.
Even if he still had Devon's ghost in the end, he wouldn't have his warmth. Wouldn't have the softness of his skin. He wouldn't have the scent of him or the brush of his hair or the true sound of his joyful laugh when Devon spotted some new plant that he liked.
