Eye of the Storms (Eye of the Storms #1) by Lisa Gillis Page B

Protectively, I would have done anything a few minutes ago to stay in that room.
    Nodding, I replied, “I’ll think about it. But, it’s okay for now. If he… if he gets worse, I would want to. Or, if he wakes up and they don’t let me.”
    “Tell me. Okay? Anything you need.”
    “Okay.” A gulp lodged in my throat, and I couldn’t look away. This was the considerate, chivalric man I remembered.
    This was the man who had offered me a cold drink on a hot day; who had seemed embarrassed to hand me a stylus pen and a legal document during a kiss; who had held and touched me like a lover, not a quick lay where countless others had lain; who had gently kissed me before holding the door open as I walked out of his life.
    This man had signed a more than generous check for a boy not yet determined to be his son; had showed up on the day of surgery; had recognized his son on sight.
    This was the man of my memories, of my fanciful imaginings, and now a new reality right beside me.

CHAPTER 12
    I needed to make my phone calls, and Jack mentioned going down the hall to a vending area we had passed earlier.
    Olivia was my first call, and amazingly, she didn’t ask any questions about Jack after hearing what had befallen Tristan. When calling my mother, I caught hell for calling Olivia first, but my parent calmed down enough to grill me about Jack.
    “Marissa, do you understand how much you embarrassed your father and me? We are your parents, and you walked off without so much as a brief introduction? If that young man weren’t such a hoodlum, I would think you were ashamed of us!”
    Despite the seriousness of the last couple of hours, and especially the last half hour, I felt a giggle gurgling in my throat. How my mother’s actions would change when she learned Jack was a celebrity of sorts. Studying the French manicure Olivia had treated me to while helping me with pre-surgery errands, I let my mother run out of steam. By that time, Jack returned, setting both a coffee and a soda on the little table beside me, plus a package of crackers and one of mini donuts. Then he reclaimed his seat, sipping his own soft drink.
    Nodding my thanks, I popped the top on the can and tilted the fizzy drink into my throat. “Mother, I’ve got a lot on my mind right now. Anything that doesn't concern Tristan, we can talk about at another time.”
    “You act as if you don’t appreciate me being here,” my mother bemoaned.
    “Mom, don’t do this right now.” Feeling Jack’s assessment, I stared hard at the pattern on the carpet.
    “I really have no reason to be here if we cannot see Tristan or be with you today.”
    “It means the world to me that you’re here with me, but you’re right. Why don’t you go home, get some rest, and I’ll call you as soon as they put him in his room?” As much of a comfort as my mother’s presence could be, at other times, like now, it was the opposite.
    “Excuse me for saying so, but you haven’t exactly been good with keeping us updated.”
    In the background, my father could be heard muttering something reproving, and I knew within minutes my parents would be in an argument. As a child, I had been the peacemaker, running interference between the two of them. In my early adult years, I had distanced myself from them, but lately, these last few years, I found myself playing the diplomatic role again.
    “Mom, I’m coming down to walk you to the car, okay?”
    Hitting ‘End Call,’ I spun to Jack. “I’ve got to… Well, you heard. Will you be here in case…?”
    Nodding, he assured with warm eyes, as much as warm words, “I’ll be here. Do what you need to do. I’m not going anywhere.” Still, I hesitated, wanting to be sure he had my cell number, but I knew he did. Maybe I was looking at my phone, or maybe he read my mind, because he reassured me yet again. “I’ll call you if anything changes. Don’t worry. You’ll be back in what, fifteen?”
    Nodding, I turned, and my feet