One Big Little Secret: A Secret Baby Romance (The Rory Brothers Book 2)

The hospital bed looks like a huge white ocean holding my tiny sleeping boy.

Arlo’s eyes are closed now. His eyelids flutter against his cheeks, a sign that he’s dreaming.

God, he’s so pale he’s almost fading into the bedsheets.

Only his hair—the same rich coppery dark brown shade as Patton’s—stands out.

I gently sweep it away from his face. There’s a tube running up his nose and a bandage across the back of his hand where another tube was placed.

According to the doctors, he’s stable.

But stable doesn’t mean okay.

It just means he’s not about to drop dead. Who knows if that could change.

I just need to keep watching him. Keep assuring myself he’s okay.

The seconds crawl by, torture in every passing beat.

His shallow, soft breathing doesn’t change.

They assured me he isn’t in a coma and sleeping like this is natural with the meds he’s on, but nothing about it feels normal.

“I love you, big guy,” I whisper over the distant murmurs of the hospital.

Foxglove poisoning.

That’s what the tests say, according to the doctor who found me hours after they finished pumping his stomach.

We were lucky, he said, because we got Arlo in fast, when he could still get help. If we’d waited—

I don’t want to think about it.

Not everyone gets so lucky. The doctor made that clear.

I shudder at the thought of what could’ve been. The way he said it so matter-of-factly with only a flicker of worry behind his round spectacles.

So professional, as if kids dying from weird plants is an everyday occurrence. As if my Arlo becoming one more statistic would just be a bad day.

He didn’t mean anything by it, though. I know that.

Too much tragedy hardens anyone involved with medicine and human health.

He also can’t answer the most damning question of all—how?

“Arlo,” I whisper, stroking his hair, but he doesn’t hear me. I press my lips to his forehead, hoping that somewhere deep in his dreams, he knows his mom loves him.

“Hey,” Patton says, pulling up the seat next to me. “How is he today?”

I close my eyes until my voice steadies so I can answer him.

We’ve sent a few texts since he left to go on his wild goose chase, but I don’t know if I can forgive him for walking away from me so easily.

It’s our son. Our son and Patton left me at the hospital alone.

Even if he had the best intentions, it’s hard to forgive and forget.

“Salem.” Patton’s voice is so rough, reaching to take my hands in his. “I know you don’t get why I had to go, but—”

“It’s foxglove. The poison,” I say, cutting him off.

Apologies can wait.

Maybe by then I’ll be in a mood to listen.

Right now, all I want to do is scream at him, but they’ll haul me out of this hospital if I do that. And I can’t leave Arlo. I can’t.

Patton’s forehead lines with worry, mirroring his frown. “What do you mean? What else did they tell you?”

“He… he had a near-lethal dose. And no, he didn’t eat a foxglove. I’d have noticed that. It’s also not the sort of thing kids his age just pick up and pop in their mouths. He’s stable now, but…” I can’t finish.

“Shit.” His gaze hardens and he glances at Arlo, his frown deepening as he studies our shattered boy, cradled in a pit of off-white bedsheets with tubes running in him.

It’s my child lying there.

My boy who almost died.

The shock won’t stop gripping my throat.

I should be stronger, more functional. But it’s a stumbling block, tripping me up every time I try to send my thoughts in a new direction, away from the nightmare fact that Arlo was flipping poisoned and he almost died.

Patton runs his hands up my arms, his palms warming me where I’m cold. When did I turn into a human ice sculpture?

“You should come home,” he urges gently. “Take a break. At least go down to the cafeteria with me and eat something. Rest.”

“And who’s going to look after Arlo then?”

“My mom’s on her way.”

“But—”

“Lady Bug, I know this is hard for you.” He uses the endearment like a weapon—or is it a plea? “I know you want to be here with him, but we need to talk. You also need sleep.”

“I can’t leave him now,” I say, my voice no more than a whisper. “What if I leave and he wakes up and I’m not here? What if he stops—stops breathing?”

Patton flinches, a movement so small I almost don’t see it.

“He won’t,” he growls firmly.

“You don’t know that.”

“You said he’s stable, right? When do they think he’ll wake up?”

“…I don’t know. Not before morning, I’m sure.”

“And they’re checking him. Constantly. Plus, my mom will call us the second anything changes. I’m sure of it.”

Nothing’s guaranteed, but he takes my hands and links his fingers with mine.

“Will you trust me? I’m trying to help,” he whispers, his blue eyes fixed on my face. The same cutting midnight-blue eyes Arlo inherited. “And you need to be well for him.”

If I speak again, I’m definitely going to cry, so I just nod and let him guide me up to my feet.

One hand remains around my waist, steadying me like he knows I might keel over if he stops holding me up.

Warmth blooms under his touch despite my resistance.

He’s too good at making me feel less alone.

Ugh, I need to get my feelings in order.

I’m still annoyed at him for leaving me. And I’m doubly annoyed at him for taking me away from Arlo, even though common sense tells me I should at least eat with my stomach growling like a wolf.

One tiny break can’t hurt, can it?

I can feel my heart ripping as we walk away from Arlo. Delly meets us down the hallway, her usually bright smile dim and twisted.

“Oh, my darling!” She hugs me quickly, holding me tighter than her small frame should. “I’m so sorry. I have no earthly idea what happened to that poor little boy.”

“It’s okay. I don’t blame you at all,” I say.

“I do. He ate something at my house.” Her face crumples.

“That’s not your fault, Mom,” Patton says quietly.

“How do you know?” Delly turns to him, and for the first time I notice the way her mascara isn’t picture perfect beneath her eyes. It’s been running, the same with the foundation on her cheeks where tears must’ve cut a recent trail.

“We’ll have answers soon,” Patton promises, though his expression doesn’t ease. “Look, we need to go, Mom. She needs dinner and Arlo needs someone with him. Can you do that?”

“Gladly.” Delly gives Patton a perfumed kiss on the cheek, and then it’s my turn. “I’ll call you the instant anything changes.”

“Thank you.” Patton reaches for my hand again.

Soon, we find out the cafeteria just closed, so we leave the hospital holding hands. The cold wind beating me in the face is another shock, and he throws his heavier coat over my shoulders.

My chest aches. Anger and resentment and affection battle, turning my guts into knots, and I don’t know which one will win.

To my surprise, he doesn’t take me to his house.

He brings me to my apartment. A brutal lump in my throat makes it hard to breathe the second I look around.

Arlo’s toys are scattered across the floor. The bowl from pancakes this morning is still in the sink.

Oh, if only I’d taken a rain check and had that brunch with Delly another time.

It all feels so long ago.

I don’t think I can hold it together.

Patton slides an arm around my back, and for the second time since hearing the news, I’m in his arms. He holds me tight, almost until I can’t breathe, and that’s a good thing.

But I can’t relax into him with all the unsaid things between us.

He pulls away like he senses it, leaving one hand lingering by my hip.

“You should eat first. Then we’ll talk,” he says.

“I want to talk now.”

His eyes are dark pools at night, almost pained with shadows, but he nods.

“Okay. But at least let me make you food.”

My kitchen is a mess, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he finds a knife and a cutting board. A companionable silence falls over us with his rhythmic chopping.

I sit on the sofa where we first kissed.

This cramped, beat-up apartment feels dizzy with memories.

“I’m sorry for leaving,” he says eventually. “I know how bad you wanted me to stay.”

I rub my eyes. If there was any makeup smudged there, it’s long gone. “I didn’t want to be alone, Patton.”

“I know.”

“And you left.”

“I had to. I couldn’t sit back and do nothing. I’m sorry,” he growls, sighing heavily. “I think my efforts paid off. I know who did it, and I couldn’t tell you in front of Mom.”

Huh?

My head whips up. I stare at his back and the bunched muscles moving under his shirt as he chops vegetables. The world feels almost too enormous as I reach down inside and pull up a single word.

“Who?”

“Evelyn Hibbing. Goddamn her.” His voice is pure violence.

“Wait, what?” I sit up straighter. “No way, you—you can’t be serious. She’s just a harmless old lady. She’s just—” I stop cold.

She’s Evelyn. Sweet old grandmotherly Evelyn with her flowers and bittersweet Minnesota memories, missing her husband dearly.

Evelyn, who’s told us time and time again how wonderful we are together.

“I know it sounds batshit,” Patton says, his voice heavy. “That’s how we all felt when we figured it out. Arch and Dex, they’re thinking it, too. I’m not crazy.”

“I just don’t—how? Why?”

“It wasn’t just the poisoning, Salem.” He comes and sits next to me, taking my hands.

And he explains her schemes with the personal loans, the nearly half a million she collected from all three brothers, stealing their money and cashing the checks after baiting them with the same sob story.

Lying to them, using their pity and their generosity against them.

“I don’t understand.” I shake my head, even though I think I do. It’s just too horrible to contemplate. “But why poison him? Why would she want to hurt Arlo?”

“She needed a distraction. The cops called the banks and the money’s already been sent to some overseas account,” Patton growls, finding taco shells in the cupboard and opening the bag. “She landed in Miami hours ago and we’ve been trying to get in touch, but we haven’t been able to get through. Odds are she’s already left the country.”

“Jesus Christ. Holy shit. I don’t understand,” I repeat, kneading my forehead until my skin burns. “I mean, she’s that greedy? She’s that cruel for money?”

“Human nature.” Patton shrugs. “It’s an ugly fucking thing if a person’s priorities are screwed up. I know mine will never be right again as long as she’s free. If I ever track her down, she’s dead.”

My heart drops.

“Patton, no. Leave it to the police. You seemed so calm about this…”

“I’m not,” he snarls. “That lady was my mom’s oldest friend and she deceived us all. She lied to us. She almost killed our son.” His throat works as he stands, rushing back to the pasta meal simmering on the stove. “Don’t worry. As much as I’d like to go after her and strangle her with my bare hands, that’s not what’ll help us the most right now. I know that.”

And I know what he’s saying without saying it. He’s here, helping me because that’s what will make the biggest difference.

He’s also right, but it drains the good will I had. I thought he was here because he wanted to be, not because he felt like this was the place where he could do the most good. Not because he’s obligated to be a messenger for bad news.

I can’t bear to sit anymore, and I stand up, pacing around, carefully avoiding Arlo’s toys. I don’t even look at them.

This was partly my fault. I’m his mother. I’m supposed to be in charge, and somehow this money-grubbing witch poisoned him right in front of me.

The smell of seasoned ground beef simmering suddenly turns my stomach.

“Arlo will be fine,” he tells me, but this time I wonder if he believes it.

“How did she do it?” I pinch the skin on my elbows until it hurts. “And how come nobody noticed?”Content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

“She clearly planned it in advance. We were blindsided.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that I missed it. She was trying to hurt him and I didn’t notice.” Did she put it in his cake? Surely, she couldn’t have if we all ate it. “He’s only five! I should have been more aware. If I hadn’t been so self-absorbed—”

“Salem, stop.” He turns and grabs my arms, holding me in place. “Listen to me, this isn’t your fault.”

I want to believe him so desperately I’m shaking, but I’m his mom.

I’m supposed to protect my little boy and I couldn’t.

“I don’t know. What if he just got into something when I wasn’t looking? Foxgloves, they could be anywhere,” I say absently.

“You know that’s not true, especially this time of year,” he rumbles.

Yes, I know for a fact that’s a weak little lie.

I know I’m falling apart.

“Dammit, woman. Stop beating yourself up and look reality in the face,” he growls. “The whole world isn’t out to get Salem Hopper.”

“Easy for you to say,” I flare. “This sort of stuff always follows me. And now my rotten flipping luck rubbed off on my kid.”

“This has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with a greedy fucking snake. One sick, backstabbing monster who wasn’t what she seems.”

“But she chose me,” I whisper. “Out of everyone she could hurt, she picked us. She picked Arlo.”

He strides back into the kitchenette and starts dishing out dinner, this one pot pasta concoction with meat and tons of garlic, judging by the smell.

Slowly, deliberately.

If he’s pissed, I can’t blame him. Not with how I’ve melted down.

I can see it in every line of his shoulders and the tense, careful movements—but he’s trying to keep it together. For my sake, he’s trying to be kind.

“I don’t believe it was personal,” he says. “You were just there. She’s an opportunist, using Arlo to make her escape the same way she used fifty years of friendship with Mom to fuck us over.”

“Does that make it any better?” My mouth twists bitterly.

He looks at me slowly and nods.

“No,” he admits. “But it proves it’s not about you.”

I accept the meal he’s made for me in a bowl, grateful for the thick dusting of parmesan on top. It’s simple, just jarred sauce and a few spices, but right now I’m hungry for anything.

I still have to make myself take small bites, wishing I could digest the latest news as easily as the food.

Arlo nearly died.

If Patton’s right, Evelyn Hibbing poisoned him. Apparently for no reason besides the fact he was there and she needed a diversion.

And I was too oblivious to notice.

“Eat,” he commands, sitting on the sofa with me after he grabs his own bowl.

We eat together in my tiny apartment where Arlo should be, forcing down a meal neither of us really wants.

Once I’ve eaten it, though, I start feeling better. It’s amazing what stable blood sugar can do for your energy.

“She hasn’t called,” I say, checking my phone for the fiftieth time since we left the hospital.

“That means there’s nothing new.”

“Yeah, I guess.” I rest the cold screen against my forehead. “I don’t know what I’m going to do, Patton.”

He touches my arm. Featherlight, almost like he’s afraid to commit to touching me fully, worried it’ll break me.

“You’re going to rest. Then you’re going back to that hospital to be there when Arlo wakes up. The first thing he’ll want to see is his mama.”

Tears nip my eyes.

“And you?” I let my lips part with my next breath.

“Me, I’m going to figure this shit out before it drives me crazy. Exactly what happened, blow by blow, every scrap of evidence I can get.” He folds his arms, but then he forces a smile for my benefit. “Maybe someday, we’ll laugh this off like Mom does after I nearly drowned that summer.”

I can’t do this. Mentioning his mother brings back all the memories of being in her house. Being welcomed into his family like I deserve to be a part of them.

Honestly, I don’t even deserve this rock of a man sitting here who made me food, much less the people he loves.

I don’t deserve him.

All my previous resentment dissolves into a hollow ache in my chest that promises to drown me in numbness if I just push hard enough.

“I’m going to tell Arlo you’re his dad. You’ll always be in his life,” I blurt out. “Whatever happens. I wanted to tell you that earlier, before everything blew up with him getting sick.”

Patton frowns, switching his attention from his empty bowl to my face. “What do you mean whatever happens? What’s about to happen, Salem?”

I look down.

I never meant to do this, but the words are boiling up, scalding my throat. I sigh.

“I know you don’t believe me when I say I’m bad luck. But look at us. Look at this. Look where I live. None of this would’ve happened if you’d just stayed away from me.”

“Don’t start that shit again.”

“I’m no good for you—no good for your family.”

“And you think that’s your decision?” he asks coldly.

“Isn’t it?” I fire back. “Your family is super kind, Patton. I… I’ve never had that. Probably for a reason.”

“Bull. Shit,” he spits both syllables. “You don’t get to make that call.”

“But it’s my choice. If I think it’s better we go our separate ways, well…” It’s so hard to swallow around the sadness lodged in my throat.

“Like hell.” He glares at me, burning away the warmth that usually sparks in his eyes when he looks at me. “Where the fuck are you right now, Salem Hopper? Where is this coming from? You can’t let one brutal mishap blow everything apart.”

“I’m thinking about the boating thing in the Ozarks,” I say. “I’d like to start over if… if Arlo seems well enough, that is.”

Patton freezes. Hurt sweeps across his face, wilting the anger so fast I almost miss it.

Big mistake.

I shouldn’t have spilled my guts like this. Not in the middle of an argument while my son is sick, especially when I’m not really sure about anything.

But my brain and my heart are scrambled eggs.

“This isn’t really about Arlo, is it?” His voice stabs me with an accusation I can’t deny.

I close my eyes.

“Is it, Salem?”

“I don’t know,” I whisper. “You’re just—look who you are, Patton. And I’m me.”

“For fuck’s sake.” He pushes up from the sofa, daggers in his eyes.

And I can’t be mad when I pushed him to this.

“Wait.” I reach for his arm, jumping up to follow him to the door. “Patton, wait.”

“For what? For you to realize I love you?”

Those three little words rip me in two.

Then he gives me a pained laugh that chills my soul.

“What’s the point of waiting for someone who’s so damn scared she won’t stop running from the past? To believe me when I tell her she isn’t cursed?” He pauses, shaking his head. “Let me go. I need to comb Mom’s house for that fucking plant, right down to every carpet fiber if I have to.”

“Patton. Patton!” The strength of my yell rips at my throat and I grab his arm, only for him to shake me off. “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t—” Except I did and he knows it.

It’s been on my mind for weeks, this half-baked backup plan forged from my own deepest fears. All because everything was too good to believe it could last.

He doesn’t slam the door.

He just turns, looks at me one last time, and gently shuts it in my face.

But I fly after him, wrenching it open again.

“Wait, come back!” My voice bounces off the empty stairway as he runs down two steps at a time. My legs are shaking too much to chase after him. “Patton, please. Not like this…”

But it’s too late and it’s my own stupid fault.

My knees finally give out as the killing truth sinks in.

I fall on the steps, shoulders shaking as I cry, every bitter emotion I’d been suppressing flooding the surface as the sound of Patton’s footsteps slowly fade into a biting wind.