his visit with Darcie was business—the business of protecting Justin’s future.
Making himself smile for Justin, Corbin had done his utmost to treat the morning like any other. Overall he’d been successful, but there had been a few moments where Justin had seemed to see right through his bullshit, as if he knew a lot was on the line.
Someday, with enough love and security, Justin would stop waiting for the worst to happen. What Corbin was about to try was a risk, but Ivey understood that it was necessary. For his son. For himself.
For their future.
He wanted her in his life, now and always. He wanted peace in his household, too. To that end, he would try anything, no matter how difficult it might be.
Walking into the hospital, Corbin thought about Ivey and Lang, about their help during a time of his life that was both jubilant—because he had his son—and the scariest thing he’d ever faced—because his son’s mother was so unpredictable. They were forced to worry right along with him, and even while he regretted that, he was grateful that he had them.
His brother loved him, so his support was a given; he’d had it all his life.
But how did Ivey feel? It couldn’t be easy for her to get involved in his mess. There were so many things he’d like to do with her, and none of it was possible. Yet. Would she still be around when he got things in order? Christ, he hoped so. He couldn’t really imagine life without her.
It was as if he’d met the perfect woman for him, right when he needed her the most.
Dressed in casual tan khakis and a dark polo shirt, Corbin stopped outside Darcie’s hospital room. A heavy weight settled on his shoulders, keeping him from knocking on the door. So much rode on the success of this visit. He knew Darcie’s issues wouldn’t be easily resolved, but at least he had a plan. From there, he could only do his best.
Stiffening his resolve, he knocked on the door and waited.
“Come in,” came the weak reply.
He pushed the door open and came to an abrupt halt. Across the room, lying limp in a white hospital bed, Darcie looked like hell. Seeing her brought on a wave of sympathy that totally took him by surprise. Shaking himself, he continued in and tried for a moderate tone. “Hey.”
Through bloodshot, bleary eyes, she stared at him. “You better not gloat.” Her lips trembled, much as Justin’s did when he was afraid. “I don’t want to hear any lectures.”
The hospital room was as cheery as possible, but it didn’t affect the depressed atmosphere. “I don’t have any to give.”
“Good.”
Darcie was emaciated, her pasty skin lacking any real color, and with the dark smudges under her eyes, she looked as if she’d gone through hell and back. Real concern brought him closer. “You’re doing okay now?”
“Yes, so don’t hold your breath waiting for me to croak.”
“Darcie.” He pulled a chair up near the bed and slowly sat down, giving himself time to formulate the right words. “You’re my son’s mother. I don’t relish interference in his life, but I don’t wish you any ill will, either.”
“Ha!” At the outburst, she groaned, a hand to her stomach, her eyes closing.
Corbin waited, seeing the way she struggled.
“I almost died.” With a caustic glance around at the room, she said, “You think this place is bad, you should see the ICU.”
Bad? He thought the room looked comfortable and convenient, set up for someone who needed a lot of care. “I’m glad you were able to be moved.”
She swallowed heavily. “I looked everywhere for you.” She breathed a little harder. “But you were hiding.”
“Actually, I looked for you as well.”
Her gaze shot to his. “Why?”
“I knew you were in town. Others had...remarked on it. But I couldn’t find you.”
“Because I got dumped here.” Her hand curled into a fist. “Cops brought me in after I crashed.”
“The police were involved?”
Her mouth firmed. “People accused me of harassing them. Cops got there before the EMTs.”
Dear God. “Where was this?”
“Local bar,” she said without any further clarification.
“I see.”
She shook her head as if it didn’t matter. “Guess I had too much to drink.”
If by too much, she meant she’d damned near drunk herself to death, then he’d agree. She still looked two breaths away from death. “It wasn’t only alcohol, was it, Darcie?”
“So? Don’t act like you have all the answers.”
No, he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. There were too many occasions when