“No.” Graham leaned forward, his peekaboo attempts warming Felicity’s heart. “Matt pretty much cut all ties to Pecan Valley once he moved to Austin.” He kept his voice playful, all his attention focused on the toddler.
Jack kept sucking his thumb, his eyelids growing heavy.
“Should he be tired already?” she asked. There was so much she didn’t know, it scared her a little.
“Perfectly normal,” Graham assured her. “His body has been through a lot of trauma. And he’s a little guy. He’ll tire easily for a while. Once he dozes off, I’ll see what I can find out about his prognosis and treatment plan.”
“Thanks, Graham.” She drew in a deep breath.
His brown eyes bounced to hers, his smile crinkling the corners of his eyes nicely. “If you need anything, or if I can help out somehow, tell me, okay? I’m here.”
He had no idea how much his offer meant to her. Not that she could burden him with any of her baggage—but still. She nodded, swallowing back the sudden tightness in her throat.
Jack pulled his thumb from his mouth and squealed, a frustrated sound that startled them both. He tried to sit up, but the cast was too restrictive, keeping him flat on his back and triggering another batch of tears.
“Bet that cast is no fun,” Graham said, reaching forward to pick up the blue-and-black-striped tiger toy Felicity had pulled from her bag. “It’ll take time to get used to.” He made a silly face.
Jack blinked, his uneven breath and tear-streaked cheeks tugging at Felicity’s heart. “I’m so sorry, little guy.”
Jack glanced her way, his scowl almost comical. Clearly, he preferred Graham. He tugged the blanket tighter and resumed furiously sucking on his thumb.
“You like your blanket?” She smiled. “Nick had one just like it. Nick’s your big brother.” She paused, studying the little boy whose gaze fixed on her face. “When he was little, he carried it everywhere he went. It got frayed and dirty by the time I managed to get it away from him.” She ran her hand over the edge of Jack’s blanket. “Your daddy called it his germ mat.”
Jack tugged the blanket from Felicity’s touch and turned his face away from her. From this angle, he could be Nick, with his golden curls and his round cheeks working away as he sucked his thumb. Silence washed over them. Felicity did her best to keep thoughts off the life she’d lost forever. It had taken her a while to come to terms with her divorce, but she had. Now she was a wiser, stronger, and far more cautious woman than she’d been before. But that was good, wasn’t it? So she wouldn’t be blindsided the next time something unexpected cropped up.
Like this.
No. She’d been blindsided anyway.
Little Jack’s chest rose and fell steadily, the quiet easing him into a peaceful sleep. For now. But when he woke up again, she’d still be a stranger. His favorite blanket could only do so much.
“Sometimes I miss this.” Graham kept his tone soft and soothing. “When a pacifier or a favorite toy could fix almost everything.”
She nodded and sat back in her chair. Infancy, toddlerhood—they’d been golden years that she’d enjoyed with every fiber of her being. Teenagers were different. She studied Graham Murphy. He was raising a teenage daughter on his own. And not just any teenage daughter. Diana was a mess, broken and screaming for attention. She knew Nick struggled with his emotions from time to time, but Diana—well, you couldn’t live in Pecan Valley without hearing things. And Diana Murphy’s antics came up often. From her suggested relationship with a no-longer-employed coach at one of the private s
chools in a neighboring town, to her pot possession and expulsion from the small Catholic school in Pecan Valley—Diana seemed bound and determined to leave a wake of destruction behind her.
“Diana was an easy baby.” He continued, almost as if he’d read her mind. “Quick to smile and laugh.” He glanced at her, the vulnerability on his face too raw to stay quiet.
“She’s testing you,” she murmured softly.
“And I’m failing.” He paused, hesitating before he added, “I don’t know how to change that or even if I can.”
It was impossible to imagine what he was describing. No matter what they’d been through, she and her children were close. At least, she hoped they were. If Matt had taught her one thing, it was people’s perspectives varied widely. She thought they were close—close enough to know when her children were in distress. Diana was clearly in distress, quite possibly the sort of distress that needed professional help. “Don’t be offended, okay, but have you thought about counseling?”
“I’m not offended.” Those brown eyes met hers, raw and bleak. “She’s been seeing a psychiatrist since Julia died—after she tried to kill herself the first time.”
Felicity tried not to react. Diana had tried to kill herself? Multiple times? And he’d had to deal with that on his own? “Oh, Graham…”
“Her psychiatrist wants to admit her to one of those rehab places.” He cleared his throat. “Like sending her to that sort of place will help her. Maybe it’s the best thing for her, but my instincts tell me it’s not.” He blinked and his voice was thick. “If I send her away, she’ll hate me even more. I’d be deserting her—the way I did her mother.”
Surely, he didn’t believe that? “You never deserted Julia, Graham.” He’d been at his wife’s side through her entire cancer ordeal.
“I let her die.” The words were harsh. “I gave her permission to stop fighting.” He sat back slowly, his gaze settling on the sleeping boy. “That’s the way Di sees it. I gave Julia permission to let go and stop fighting. I took her mother away.”
Felicity watched Graham—the way he rolled his head and ran a hand along the back of his neck. Diana was too young to understand how lucky she was to have this man for a father. Or how much her actions and words hurt.
“While I was obsessing over losing my wife, my daughter was losing her mother.” He cleared his throat again. “It took me a while to realize that I’d been self-absorbed. Like Matt, I abandoned my daughter and my responsibilities.” He looked at her then. “I won’t do it again. I can’t risk it.”