Chapter 3 - His skin was warm.
He smelled faintly of soap and hospital sheets.
I wanted to gather him into my arms and never let go.
"Did I wake you up?" he asked.
I shook my head.
"No, sweetheart."
He studied my face.
"You were crying."
I tried to smile.
"Just a little."
"Because I got sick again?"
My heart cracked.
"No."
"Then why?"
I brushed his hair back.
"Because I missed you."
Mateo considered that answer.
Then he lifted the corner of his blanket.
"You can sit here."
I perched carefully beside him.
He tucked his small hand into mine.
And for several minutes, the rest of the world ceased to exist.
I listened to him tell me about the nurse who had brought him apple juice.
About the cartoon he had watched.
About how Pilar had fallen asleep in a chair and snored.
I laughed through my tears.
Then his eyes moved toward the doorway.
"Who's that?"
I looked back.
Kieran stood in the hall.
He had not entered.
He was watching us with an expression I could not read.
"That's Kieran," I said.
"He's my boss."
Mateo blinked.
"The boss from the big house?"
I nodded.
"The one with the giant kitchen?"
"Yes."
Mateo looked impressed.
"Does he have a swimming pool?"
Despite everything, I laughed.
"He does."
"A big one?"
"Very big."
Mateo glanced at Kieran again.
"Can he come in?"
I hesitated.
Kieran did not move.
"He doesn't have to," I said.
Mateo frowned.
"Why?"
I swallowed.
"Because he's busy."
Kieran stepped closer to the doorway.
"I'm not busy."
His voice sounded different.
Quieter.
Almost uncertain.
Mateo smiled.
"Hi."
Kieran entered slowly.
"Hello, Mateo."
My son studied him with the fearless curiosity that only children possess.
"You're really tall."
Kieran looked down at himself.
"So I've been told."
"Do you play basketball?"
"No."
"Why not?"
A faint smile appeared on Kieran's face.
"I wasn't very good at it."
Mateo seemed disappointed.
Then his gaze fell on Kieran's expensive watch.
"That's shiny."
Kieran glanced at it.
"Yes."
"Can you tell time?"
Kieran looked at me.
For one strange second, we were both struggling not to laugh.
"I can," he answered solemnly.
"Even without your phone?"
"Even without my phone."
Mateo nodded with approval.
Then he picked up the blue plastic dinosaur resting beside his pillow.
"This is Captain Blue."
Kieran looked at the toy.
"A captain?"
"He's in charge."
"Of what?"
"Everything."
Kieran raised an eyebrow.
"That sounds like a difficult job."
Mateo held out the dinosaur.
"You can hold him."
I watched Kieran Blackwood hesitate.
This man could enter a room filled with powerful criminals without showing fear.
But a six-year-old offering him a plastic dinosaur seemed to leave him completely unprepared.
He accepted the toy with both hands.
"Thank you."
"Don't drop him."
"I won't."
"He's brave."
Kieran looked at the dinosaur.
Then he looked at my son.
"I can see that."
I had to turn away.
Because the softness in his voice was almost unbearable.
A nurse entered to check Mateo's monitor.
Kieran stepped back immediately.
He listened without interrupting as she explained that the physician would return after reviewing the latest results.
Mateo's condition had stabilized.
But the team remained concerned about his underlying cardiac problem.
Another procedure was still expected to be necessary.
Nobody could give us an exact date until the medical plan and insurance authorization were settled.
I had heard versions of these explanations before.
Every time, I walked away feeling smaller.
This time, Kieran asked whether the doctor could speak with me in person before making further decisions.
He did not demand records.
He did not claim authority.
He simply asked whom I should contact and whether a care coordinator was available.
The nurse gave me a name.
For the first time, I wrote it down without feeling as though I was bothering someone.
When she left, Mateo tugged at my sleeve.
"Mommy?"
"Yes?"
"Is Mr. Kieran scary?"
I froze.
Kieran became very still.
"Why would you ask that?" I whispered.
Mateo shrugged.
"He looks like the bad guy in the movie Pilar wouldn't let me watch."
I closed my eyes.
Of course he did.
I expected Kieran to become offended.
Instead, he looked down at the black coat he was wearing.
"That seems fair."
Mateo giggled.
"Are you bad?"
Kieran paused.
I watched him choose his answer.
"I've made mistakes."
Mateo considered that.
"Mommy says everybody does."
Kieran's eyes moved toward me.
"She's right."
"Then you can be good tomorrow."
I felt something break open in my chest.
Kieran looked at my son for a long moment.
Then he nodded.
"I'll remember that."
Later that morning, Mateo fell asleep.
Pilar went downstairs for coffee.
Kieran and I stepped into the hallway.
The bright fluorescent lights made the exhaustion on his face more visible.
I realized he had not slept at all.
"Thank you for bringing me," I said.
He looked through the window in Mateo's door.
"How long has he been this sick?"
"His whole life, in one way or another."
I folded my arms.
"The hospitalizations became more frequent over the last year."
Kieran looked at me.
"And you've been working twelve-hour days?"
"Sometimes longer."
"Then taking the train here on Sundays?"
I nodded.
He looked away.
"Christ."
"Don't."
His gaze returned to mine.
"Don't what?"
"Don't look at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like I'm something tragic."
He seemed startled.
"I'm not."
"People hear about Mateo and suddenly everything becomes pity."
I swallowed.
"I don't want pity."
Kieran's expression grew serious.
"What do you want?"
The question caught me off guard.
I thought about the months of fear.
The unpaid bills.
The missed birthdays.
The nights I lay awake calculating how many shifts it would take to pay for one more specialist visit.
"I want him to come home."
My voice trembled.
"I want to make breakfast for him."
"I want to complain because he leaves toys on the floor."
"I want to be tired because he won't go to bed, not because I'm terrified he won't wake up."
Kieran's eyes softened.
I wiped my cheeks angrily.
"And I want to stop feeling guilty every time I choose between being his mother and earning the money that keeps him alive."
Neither of us spoke.
Then Kieran said something I would remember for the rest of my life.
"You shouldn't have to choose."
I laughed bitterly.
"But I do."
His jaw tightened.
"Then something needs to change."
I shook my head.
"You can't solve everything."
"No."
The answer came so quickly that I looked up.
He seemed painfully serious.
"I can't."
He looked through the window at Mateo.
"But I can stop pretending that your situation is none of my business."
I stared at him.
"Kieran."
"Before you say no, hear me out."
I stiffened.
He noticed.
And stopped.
"Actually, no."
I blinked.
"What?"
"You're right to be cautious."
He glanced toward the hospital corridor.
"I started this night by demanding information I had no right to demand."
I had no idea what to say.
He continued.
"I was jealous."
The admission stunned me.
He looked almost irritated with himself.
"I heard you say you loved someone."
"And I reacted badly."
"Why?"
He met my eyes.
For a long time, he said nothing.
Then he answered.
"Because I wanted to be the person you said it to."
My heart seemed to miss a beat.
I stared at him.
The hospital sounds faded into the distance.
I could not have spoken even if I had wanted to.
Kieran looked away first.
"I know how inappropriate that sounds."
I swallowed.
"You're my employer."
"I know."
"And you barely know me."
His expression changed.
"That's where you're wrong."
I frowned.
He gave a small, sad smile.
"I know you leave fresh flowers in the library because you think the room feels lonely."
"I know you always put an extra blanket over the chair in my study when the weather turns cold."
"I know you hum when you're concentrating."
"And I know you stopped humming about three months ago."
My throat tightened.
He looked at me directly.
"I noticed, Saraphina."
I felt tears gathering again.
"But I didn't know how to ask what was wrong."
I stared at him.
Everything I believed about our relationship was shifting.
Then he said the words that frightened me almost as much as his confession.
"I want to help Mateo."
I immediately shook my head.
"No."
"Saraphina."
"I can't."
"You haven't heard what I'm offering."
"I don't need to."
His face tightened.
"Why?"
"Because I know how this works."
He went still.
I forced myself to continue.
"Powerful men give things, and eventually they expect something in return."
A shadow crossed his face.
"Is that what you think of me?"
I looked away.
"I don't know what to think of you."
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then he nodded slowly.
"Fair enough."
He reached into his coat and removed a plain business card.
He wrote a number on the back.
"This is the direct number for my office administrator."
I stared at it.
"She can help you organize the insurance documents, billing statements, and financial assistance applications."
He placed the card on the windowsill between us.
"You decide whether to call."
I looked at the card.
"And the money?"
"We're not discussing money unless you want to."
I shook my head.
"I don't want you paying for my child because you feel something for me."
His expression softened.
"Then don't let me."
I stared at him.
He continued quietly.
"Let me help you find out what you're actually responsible for."
"Let me give you time away from work without threatening your job."
"And let me be useful in a way that doesn't require you to trust me with anything you aren't ready to give."
My eyes filled.
I hated how badly I wanted to believe him.
A doctor approached down the corridor.
I recognized her immediately.
Dr. Bennett.
Mateo's cardiologist.
Her expression was serious.
"Ms. Torres?"
I straightened.
"Yes."
"Can we speak privately?"
Kieran immediately stepped away.
I followed Dr. Bennett into a small consultation room.
She explained the latest results carefully.
Mateo was stable for now.
But the tests confirmed that the next procedure needed to be arranged as soon as the team could safely complete the necessary planning.
His condition was not something we could continue watching indefinitely.
I listened while she described the options.
I asked questions.
I wrote down her answers.
And for the first time, I did not apologize for needing explanations.
When I returned to the hallway, Kieran was standing exactly where I had left him.
He took one look at my face.
"What did she say?"
I clutched the papers against my chest.
"There's still time."
He exhaled.
Then I whispered the words I had been dreading.
"But not as much as I thought."
Kieran looked toward Mateo's room.
I saw the familiar hardness return to his expression.
For one terrifying moment, I thought he was about to become the man everyone feared.
Instead, he turned to me.
"What do you want to do first?"
And I realized that his most dangerous quality might not be his power.
It might be his willingness to wait for me to decide how he was allowed to use it.
By noon, I had made three phone calls.
By two, I had spoken to the hospital's financial counselor.
By four, I understood more about Mateo's medical bills than I had learned during the previous eleven days.
Some charges were still being reviewed by the insurer.
Others qualified for a payment plan.
The hospital had an assistance program I could apply for, although approval was not guaranteed.
And the upcoming procedure required an expedited discussion between Mateo's medical team and our insurer.
None of it was simple.
None of it made the fear disappear.
But for the first time, the problem had edges.
It was no longer one enormous number crushing the air from my lungs.
It was a series of tasks.
Documents.
Calls.
Medical decisions.
Appeals.
Things I could actually do.
Kieran did not attend those conversations.
He waited in the visitors' lounge.
When I returned, he stood.
"How did it go?"
I showed him the notes.
He read only what I offered.
"Good work," he said.
I almost laughed.
"You sound surprised."
"I'm impressed."
May you like
I shook my head.
"I've been dealing with hospitals for years."
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