Aidan had no idea where his father was going with this, and a part of him wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t always there to talk to you, and I’m sorry I never truly let you in and showed you how I was feeling, but it was too damn hard, and I knew that doing it would lead to a conversation I never wanted to have with you.” Tim went quiet for a moment, the steady beeping of his heart monitor the only sound in the room. Then he cleared his throat. “But we need to have that conversation now.”
“What are you talking about?”
“In the event that I don’t make it through surgery, there are some things you need to know, Aidan.”
Claire was climbing the walls. She hadn’t heard from Aidan or Dylan in two days, and if one of them didn’t walk through that door soon, she was going to freak the fuck out.
“Honey, I’m hoooooome.”
From her perch on the couch, Claire froze, wondering if she’d imagined that familiar singsong voice. Dylan?
No, her mind had conjured it up, cruelly making her believe her prayer had been answered and Dylan had just walked in the door.
“Claire? Aid?”
Her heart nearly jumped right out of her chest when Dylan strode into the living room.
God, she wasn’t imagining him. He was here.
“Oh, thank God!” She lunged off the couch and hurried toward him, throwing herself into his strong arms so hard their chests collided with a violent thump.
“Hey, now,” he said with a laugh, his arms coming around her waist. “What’s with the dramatic hello?”
Claire hugged him even tighter, breathing in his woodsy scent and sinking into the familiar hardness of his body. She pulled back to run her fingers over his week’s worth of beard growth, and searched his playful green eyes for any sign that he’d gotten injured during his mission.
He looked completely fine, an observation that brought a rush of relief. Still, she couldn’t help but demand, “Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”
Dylan grinned. “Not a scratch on me.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.” He glanced around. “Where’s Aidan?”
The question sent Claire’s spirits plummeting back to freak-out mode. “Chicago,” she said bleakly. “His dad had a heart attack.”
“Holy shit.” A furrow of concern dug into Dylan’s forehead. “Is Tim okay? Is Aidan okay?”
She bit her lower lip. Hard. “I have no idea. I drove him to the airport two days ago, he called when he landed in Chicago, and that was the last I heard from him. He’s not picking up his phone, he’s not answering my texts or my emails…” She sucked in a breath. “I’m so worried. I called the hospital to get an update on Aidan’s dad but all they would tell me is he made it out of surgery and is still in the ICU.”
Dylan looked upset. “Let me try him.” He fished his phone out of the pocket of his dusty fatigues. A minute later, he lowered the phone and cursed. “Voicemail. I’ll shoot him a text.”
That yielded no results either.
“Fuck,” Dylan muttered. “It isn’t like him to stay out of touch, especially if you’ve left him messages.”
Claire shook her head in aggravation. “So what do we do now? Just sit and hope that he’s not lying in a ditch somewhere in Chicago?”
“I’m sure he’s not lying in a ditch. If anything, he’s sitting at his father’s bedside, and too stressed to call back. Or maybe he doesn’t even realize how much time has passed—hospitals tend to do that, one hour just morphs into the next hour, and the next thing you know, it’s been two days.”
His reassurance did the trick, easing some of the pressure weighing on Claire’s chest. “You really think he’s okay?”
“I really do.” He tipped her head up and swept his thumb over her bottom lip. “And I’m sure you and I can come up with a lot of fun ways to distract ourselves while we wait for our radio-silent lover to make contact.”
Her lips twitched, then parted to let out a laugh. “How do you always manage to make me laugh even when I’m at my most upset?”
“It’s a gift.” With a wicked grin, he stepped forward and scooped her up into his arms before she could blink. “Wanna experience some of my other gifts?”
It was just the distraction she’d needed, and she was shrieking with laughter when Dylan started tickling her side as he carried her all the way to the master bedroom. He deposited her on the bed, then began to strip out of his dirty camo gear until he was standing there naked and erect.
“Here’s what’s gonna happen, honey,” he said with an arch of his brow. “I’m gonna hop in the shower quick fast and wash all this grime and dirt off me. You, in the meantime, will remove every stitch of clothing from that scrumptious body of yours and get yourself nice and wet. I want your pussy drenched when I come out.”