Page 44

“No problem,” I tell the security guard, keeping my eyes on Veronica. “We’re done here.”

He doesn’t look convinced, but he stays close, arms crossed, clearly ready to step in if needed.

Veronica stares at me like I’ve grown a second head. “You’re seriously doing this right now? In a hospital?”

“Yeah,” I say flatly. “Because you decided to show up where you weren’t invited and lie about being my son’s stepmom. So we’re done. For good.”

Her face twists. “Simon, you’re emotional. You don’t mean that.”

“I’ve never meant anything more.” I take a step back, putting clear distance between us. “Lose my number. Don’t come to my place. Don’t text. Don’t show up anywhere near my son again. We’re finished.”

She opens her mouth like she wants to argue, but the security guard shifts closer and she seems to think better of it. Her eyes fill with angry tears, but I don’t feel a damn thing except relief.

I turn and walk away before she can say anything else.

The second I’m around the corner, I check the time on my phone. Seven minutes. I promised Blaire ten. I pick up my pace, heading straight back toward the room, my chest feeling lighter than it has in weeks.

A nurse catches me just before I reach the room.

“Theodore Crane?” she asks gently.

“I’m his father,” I say, still trying to steady my breathing after the confrontation with Veronica.

She lifts the clipboard in her hands. “I have his discharge papers. I can go over everything with you inside.”

I glance through the open doorway into Theo’s room. Blaire is asleep, her head tilted down against Theo’s, both of them completely knocked out. Theo’s small body is curled into hers, his broken arm in a tiny blue cast and resting carefully across her stomach. Even exhausted and tear-streaked, Blaire is still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. And for the first time in months, I’m able to admit that to myself without immediately feeling like a cheating piece of shit.

I turn back to the nurse, keeping my voice low. “Can you just go over it with me out here? I don’t want to wake his mom. It’s been… a long night.”

Sympathy flickers across her face. She’s probably heard at least part of what went down in the hallway.

“Of course. So, the X-rays confirmed a clean break in his radius. We’ve put him in a waterproof cast, which he can keep on for the next four to six weeks. He’ll need to follow up with orthopedics in about a week…”

I listen, but my eyes keep drifting back to the small window in the door, where I can just barely see the outline of Blaire and Theo sleeping.

The nurse hands me the discharge papers. “You guys are all free to go. Do you have a ride? I know they brought him in by ambulance.”

I blink, pulling my focus back to her. “Uh, yeah. I’ve got my truck. I’m taking them home.”

The thought of letting Theo out of my sight right now—with a head wound and a broken wrist, while Blaire is this physically and emotionally drained—makes my stomach twist. Especially knowing part of her exhaustion is my fault. This, at least, I can do. I can get my son and his mother home safely. Maybe even convince Blaire to let me stay the night so I can help if he wakes up, or handle the morning routine while she rests.

“Thanks,” I tell the nurse, already turning toward the door.

For a second I just stand there, watching them.

Then I cross the room and gently nudge her shoulder. “Blaire.”

She stirs, lashes fluttering. It takes her a moment to focus. “Mhm?”

“Come on,” I murmur, keeping my voice low. “Let me take you home.”

She blinks, more alert now. “Oh—no. No, I can call a cab—”

“I’m not letting you take a fucking cab, Blaire.”

Her eyes snap to mine, sharp and warning, before flicking down to Theo. She doesn’t say a word, just gives me that watch your mouth around our kid look.

I clear my throat. “Sorry. I just… please. Let me drive you.”