Love Irresistibly (34 page)

“Oh.” His face relaxed, some of the tension seeming to leave him. His expression turned sheepish. “Sorry. You’ll probably be wanting your head back now.” He pantomimed handing it back to her, a gesture that made her smile, then he took a seat on the first step.

He rested his arms on his knees and bowed his head, taking a deep breath. Brooke stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to do, and then sat on the step next to him.

They sat in silence for a few moments.

Brooke cocked her head. “Niagara Falls . . . from
The Breakfast Club
, right? Good to see you kids are keeping up on the classics.”

Zach chuckled, then glanced over. “In answer to your question, yes—he talks about you. He says you’re the smartest, wittiest woman he’s ever met.”

“He did?” Brooke’s heart skipped a beat, suddenly filling with hope.

But first things first.

“About this shitty day you and Cade are having—is there anything I can do to help?” she asked.

Zach contemplated that. “Actually, maybe there is.”

* * *

CADE PUSHED THROUGH
the revolving door of Northwestern Memorial Hospital and walked up to the visitors’ desk.

“I’m here to see Noah Garrity.” He braced himself for the question he’d been dreading all morning.
Friend or family?

“Sign in here,” the front desk clerk merely said, pointing to a clipboard. “Name and time.”

Cade did so, and then waited as the clerk typed something into the computer. She pulled out an ID badge and wrote a number on it. “Room 1502. Elevators are to your left.” She handed him the badge.

“Thank you.” Cade clipped the badge to his suit jacket and headed for the elevators.

He stepped into an empty elevator and pushed the button for the fifteenth floor. He stared straight ahead at the doors, refusing to toy with the cuffs of his sleeves, or run his fingers through his hair, or give in to any other kind of nervous gesture. He was doing this for Zach, and that was it. As much as a small part of him had questions for Noah, he had not come here seeking answers or closure. He was no longer a naïve ten-year-old boy, easily duped by a few pats on the back and a couple of nice moments.

And even if that small part of him still cared about the
why
, he’d be damned if he let Noah Garrity see that.

He didn’t plan to be angry or spiteful. Just businesslike. Emotions would play no part in this visit today.

The elevator doors opened and Cade stepped out. The floor was quiet, the patients’ rooms situated around the perimeter with a nurses’ station in the center. He followed the arrows to room 1502, at the far end of the hallway.

He tucked his hands into his pants pockets, his strides purposefully unhurried as he passed by the other patient rooms. He’d deliberately chosen to wear a suit, skipping the tie since it was Saturday, because he planned to get in and out as fast as possible with an excuse about needing to get into work. But he wouldn’t lie—he also wanted Noah to see the man he’d become. He may not have gone pro in football, but he’d done well by himself regardless. Northwestern University. Rose Bowl champ. Magna cum laude in his law school class. Assistant U.S. attorney. Today, he would wear those achievements like a suit of armor.

I did it all without you.

He spotted room 1502 and slowed when he saw that the door was open. One of the many things that had kept him awake last night was this moment, when he saw Noah Garrity for the first time in twenty-three years. He had a vivid image in his head of a tall twenty-eight-year-old man looking cool and tough in his leather jacket—a man younger than Cade was today. Juxtaposed against that were the portrayals of gaunt, bedridden cancer patients he’d seen in the movies and on TV.

He took a step closer to the door and saw that neither of those images had been accurate. Sitting in one of the chairs by the window, looking out at the view of the city, was a normal-looking fifty-one-year-old man wearing faded jeans and a navy sweatshirt. With the sunlight coming in through the windows, Cade could see gray peppered throughout Noah’s dark hair. He wore gym shoes—not too-cool-for-school work boots or even flashy running shoes—just regular gray Nikes.

He looked like . . . a dad.

Cade watched as Noah stared out the window. He looked lost in thought, and Cade realized then that his first instincts had been right.

This was a bad idea.

The man had just found out he was dying; he undoubtedly wanted to be alone. Now was not the time for a surprise, awkward visit from a long-lost son.

Cade took a step back to leave, but the heel of his leather wing tip scraped softly against the tile floor. Noah blinked, coming out of his reverie, and glanced over.

A look of shock crossed his face, and they both froze.

“Cade.” Noah stood up from his chair, not saying anything for a long time. “How . . . did you know I was here?”

Cade kept his tone impassive. “Zach.”

“Zach?” Noah’s expression was confused at first, and then realization set in. “He came to you because of the tumor.”

“Yes.”

Cade was wholly unprepared for what happened next.

Noah’s eyes welled up. “That’s so . . . exactly the kind of thing he would do.” His voice broke on the last word and he looked down. He said nothing for a moment, and then peered back up. “Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “This has been an exhausting couple of days.”

He gestured. “Please. Come in. Uh. . . maybe I can pull this chair over from here . . .” Moving awkwardly, as if nervous, he grabbed an extra chair from the corner and set it a couple of feet across from the one by the window.

After they’d both sat down, Noah rested his hands on his legs and looked Cade over. “So, wow. Assistant U.S. Attorney Cade Morgan, in the flesh.”

Though he showed no reaction outwardly, this surprised Cade. He’d had no clue Noah knew he’d become a prosecutor. “How are you feeling?” It seemed like the kind of question one should ask in a hospital.

“Well, it’s been a roller-coaster ride, all right,” Noah said. “But actually, I feel pretty good this morning. They started me on some new steroid yesterday—told me I needed to stay for observation for twenty-four hours to make sure there aren’t any side effects.” He waved in the direction of the hallway, managing a smile. “I think the nurses are pissed that I won’t wear the hospital gown. I told them they’ll have plenty of chances to see me in one of those soon.”

“What about chemotherapy or radiation?”

“I start radiation next week. They say it won’t shrink the tumor, but they’re hoping it might slow how quickly it grows.”

An awkward silence fell between them.

Cade figured he might as well get right to the point. There was one thing, at least, he wanted to say. “Noah, I—”

“I read about your big promotion in the news,” Noah cut in eagerly, before Cade could finish. “Acting U.S. attorney, that really is something. Will you still be able to try cases when you take over that role? Sounds like the Sanderson trial is shaping up to be a real dogfight.”

Cade carefully studied the man across from him. Noah sure seemed to have a
lot
of information about him. “You follow all the news related to the U.S. Attorney’s Office that closely?”

Noah met his gaze, his voice quiet. “No. Just the news related to my son.”

All the anger that Cade had been pushing down for years suddenly came boiling right up to the surface.

My son.

Noah Garrity had lost the right to call him that a long time ago.

Jaw clenched, Cade took a moment. He calmed himself before speaking. “I didn’t come here to talk about my job.”

“I’m sure you want an explanation from me. I know I sure as hell would.”

“No.” Cade locked eyes with him. “I don’t want anything from you.”

“Humor a dying man, then.”

Cade felt a mixture of emotions at the poor attempt at a joke. He said nothing further and . . . waited.

Noah took a deep breath, as if steeling himself. “I was a screwup back then, Cade. I couldn’t keep a job, I drank, I got high, and I didn’t give a shit about anyone except myself. When the landscaping business I’d started with my brother folded, I came back to Chicago to live off my parents. That gave my father plenty of opportunities to tell me how useless I was—and trust me, he had no problem taking every one of them.”

Father issues? Was that what Noah was blaming everything on? Cade almost laughed at the irony.
Join the fucking club.

“I called your mother about a month after getting back in town,” Noah said. “I thought that seeing you would help me get my act together.”

“Didn’t exactly work out that way, did it?” Cade said sarcastically, before he could stop himself.
Keep emotions out of this, Morgan
.

“I was immature. And stupid. I thought it would be fun to see my kid, someone I could take to a ball game or play video games with. I wasn’t thinking about all the responsibility that came with it.” Noah paused. “But when I saw you that day, it suddenly become so . . . real. I kept thinking that you were already ten times smarter than me, and stronger, too, with the way you stood up to me and asked me straight-out why I hadn’t been around.” He smiled ruefully. “But you also had such a good heart. I could see how much you wanted me to be your fath—”

“Don’t.” Cade spoke in a low tone. “Don’t say it.” He knew the exact moment Noah was talking about—when he’d called him
Dad
.

A flash of sadness crossed Noah’s eyes. “I know there’s no excuse for what I did.” His eyes met Cade’s, the same shade of blue. “But you need to understand—I would’ve messed you up, Cade. Despite what a jerk I was back then, even I could see that your mother had gotten it so
right
. Staying out of your life was the best thing I could’ve done for you.”

Cade stared out the window, shaking his head. “That’s . . . such bullshit.”

“Is it?” Noah gestured to Cade. “Look at you. Think you would’ve gotten this far with a deadbeat dad bringing you down?”

“Bit of a shame those were my only two options, don’t you think? No father, or a deadbeat one?”

“Yes, it is,” Noah said, without any trace of sarcasm. “It took me thirty-five years to learn how to be a father. And I will go to my grave being ashamed of that.”

Cade turned back to the window, having nothing to say to that.

“I used to go to your football games, you know,” Noah said.

Cade slowly looked over. “When?”

“At Northwestern. First game I saw was your sophomore year, against Penn State. After Zach was born, I’d begun to think about you a lot. A real lot. I knew they were starting you that game—your first time—and I wanted to be there.”

“I remember that game.”

“I’m sure you do. You were up against the number-one team in the Big Ten, it was your first year as starting QB, and
nobody
expected you to pull out a win. But you showed them all.”

Cade stared at him stoically. It was a little late for fatherly pride.

“I hung around the parking lot after the game,” Noah said. “You came out of the stadium, and there was this moment when I got to see you for the first time in years.” His voice grew thick with emotion. “I remember hoping so badly that you’d see me standing there. That maybe . . . I don’t know, we could talk or something. But then everyone swarmed you. Friends, fans, your mother, and your grandparents—even reporters. They were all cheering for you, and you looked so proud.” He paused, clearing his throat. “I realized then that I had no place there. You were grown up, a man with a very bright future ahead of you, and I had lost my chance to be a part of that.”

The room went quiet after that.

Finally, Noah mustered a smile. “Wish I could’ve been a fly on the wall when Zach somehow convinced you to see me.”

The mention of his brother, at least, helped to ease the tension. “Zach is quite persuasive. The kid could be a lawyer someday.”

Immediately, Cade realized that was the wrong thing to say.

“Maybe he will be,” Noah said softly. “I’m sure, whatever he does, that he’ll grow up to be a really good man. Like his brother.”

Cade watched as his father struggled to maintain his composure.

He might not be able to forgive, but there was, at least, one thing he could do for him.

“I’ll take care of him, Noah. Whatever he needs. Zach . . . will be okay.”

Noah closed his eyes. His bent his head, going quiet for several moments before he pulled himself together and wiped his eyes. “Thank you.”

Cade felt the stinging in his own eyes. The hospital room suddenly felt too small, the air too thick and heavy. “I need to get going.”

Noah stood up. “Cade, wait. Please. You have no idea how much it means to me that you came here. I know I have no right to ask, but I’d still like that second chance.” He reached out tentatively and put a hand on Cade’s shoulder. “At least think about it, Son.”

The hopefulness on Noah’s face brought Cade back to that moment, so many years ago, when he’d wanted nothing more than to be this man’s son. But he’d shut that door long ago, and he didn’t think he could open it again.

Not when that would mean losing his father all over again.

Cade felt the tightness in his throat, his voice coming out hoarse.

“Good-bye, Noah.”

* * *

CADE PUSHED THROUGH
the hospital doors and kept walking. He spotted an alley up ahead and turned into it.

Once alone, he pressed his hands against the brick wall of the hospital and closed his eyes.

So much
fucking
time
wasted.

He hit the wall hard with the side of his fist, the pain a welcome distraction from the ache in his chest. He felt angry and lost and so goddamn raw he wanted to climb out of his own skin. No amount of charm or jokes or quips could protect him now—this was real and it was hard and it was rough. His estranged father was dying, and he was furious about that, at Noah for being a dickhead for so much of his life, and for laying all this on him now. But he couldn’t just feel anger, because he’d seen the genuine look of regret in Noah’s eyes, and also the desire to make things right.