Page 29 of B is for Baby Me (Classes in Kink #1)

Chapter twenty-eight

Split Decision

JR

A quick knock on the door alerts us a moment before the surgeon enters the room. She sets down a chart and extends her hand toward me, then Fletcher. “I’m Dr. Foster, the senior surgeon for Mr. Bennett’s operation. Please sit. I have some news.”

I fold in half like I’ve been punched in the gut, letting out a low wail.

“He’s alive. Please sit.” Dr. Foster urges me toward a chair. “Your father is stable, but there were complications during surgery. I’ll go over them with you once you’re ready.”

The professor wraps an arm around my waist, easing me down into a seat. “Just breathe, sweetheart. Take your time,” he murmurs in a low voice.

I lean against him, fighting against a wave of nausea. When the worst of it is over, I take a deep breath through my nose, then slowly let it out. “I-I’m ready. How bad is it?”

“As you know, your father has had a heart attack, which required open-heart surgery,” Dr. Foster says. “We performed a coronary artery bypass grafting, or CABG, taking healthy veins from his legs and using them to reroute blood flow around his clogged arteries. In this case, we bypassed four coronary arteries, which—though serious—is fairly common. This will greatly improve the supply of blood and oxygen to his heart.”

“That’s good, right?” I look to Fletcher for confirmation.

“You mentioned complications,” he prompts the surgeon.

She nods. “There was excessive bleeding during the operation, requiring several blood transfusions. In addition, we detected an arrhythmia—or irregular heartbeat. This can occur during surgery, though it may also indicate the need for a pacemaker. Your father has been moved to the Cardiac Intensive Care Unit where we’ll monitor his heart, as well as watch for signs of blood clots. The first twenty-four to forty-eight hours following surgery are the most critical.”

“Understood,” Fletcher responds, his face grave. “Can you give us a prognosis, Doctor?”

Her smile is comforting. “We’ll know more once Mr. Bennett makes it through this initial phase. Rest assured, the ICU will provide him the best of care.”

“Can I see him?” I ask.

“Your father is resting now,” she says. “He should wake up from the anesthesia in a few hours and then you may visit him.”

I nod my head, my shoulders slumping. It’s good news, right? Then why do I still feel like I’m about to lose my dad?

Fletcher reaches out a hand to the surgeon. “We appreciate all that you’ve done, Dr. Foster. Thank you from the bottom of our hearts.”

She clasps his hand. “The nurses will keep you updated. We’ll speak again soon.”

“Thank you so much, Doctor.” I stand, shaking her hand in both of mine.

After telling us that the nurse would return with instructions, she excuses herself, leaving Fletcher and me alone in the small room.

The professor gives me a tight hug. “Your father’s a fighter. We’ll make sure he gets the best care available.”

“Thank you for being here with me,” I say as I hold him close. “I don’t know how I would have handled this without you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Ben.” Fletcher leans back, gazing into my eyes. “We’re family now, and that’s what family does.”

A nurse knocks, then enters the room with a packet of information. After explaining the next steps of care for my dad, she leads us out to the waiting room.

When we step through the door, dozens of heads turn to face us, a large group of them rising from their chairs. Every face has the same expression—a mixture of hope and dread.

Josh steps forward, his dark eyes wide and fearful. “Is… is he…?”

I rush toward him, falling into my best friend’s arms. “He’s alive, for now,” I sob.

My friends all gather around us, patting me on the back and offering words of encouragement. While I cry myself out—again—Fletcher gives everyone the surgeon’s update, ending with, “We’ll just have to wait.”

“But he’ll be OK, right?” Blake asks the professor.

“Of course he will.” Tyrell juts out his chin, as if daring him to say otherwise.

“C’mon, Gladiators. Huddle up,” Coach Becker says.

My teammates form a circle around me—pulling Fletcher, Simon, and Josh into their midst.

The coach locks eyes with each of his players. “Who are we backing?” he asks them.

“The Bennetts!” they answer in one voice.

He narrows his eyes, gazing around the circle. “Who are we fighting for?”

“JR and Team Dad!”

Coach Becker reaches out his arm, laying his hand on my shoulder. As the rest of the huddle follows suit, he asks, “When do the Golden Gladiators stop fighting?”

“Never!”

“How do we fight?”

“With Strength and Honor!”

“When are we strongest?”

“Together!”

The coach gives my shoulder a shake. “You’ve always held the line for us, Bennett. It’s our turn to hold the line for you.”

With all of my friends’ hands touching me… supporting me… lending me their strength when I need it the most… Fresh tears trail down my face as I raise a fist in the air. “For Dad!”

“For Team Dad!”

The cheer echoes off the walls.

A few hours later…

“I’m here, Dad... it’s Junior. You’re gonna be fine. You’ve gotta be, OK?” I sink into a chair next to my father’s bed, holding onto his hand.

My dad opens his eyes with a weak smile. Christ, he looks like hell. His face is ashen, and there are so many tubes sticking out of him, he looks like a pincushion. The sheer amount of medical equipment attached to my dad is overwhelming.

“Everyone came by to check on you. They said to tell Team Dad they’ve got your back.” My chin wobbles, tears slipping from the corners of my eyes and tracking down my cheeks.

His breathing tube keeps him from answering, but he gives my hand a soft squeeze.

“We were all really worried. I don’t know what I would have done if—“ I choke back a sob, more tears rolling down my face.

My father points unsteadily at his heart, then at me.

I nod, kissing his hand and holding it against my chest. “I love you, too, Dad. I love you so much.”

As he closes his eyes and drifts back to sleep, fear sinks its teeth into my gut. Was that my father’s way of saying goodbye? Will I ever get to tell him I love him again? Does he know how much he means to me, how much I still need him in my life?

I step outside of the intensive care ward, my feet dragging as I walk toward the waiting room. I’ve gotta put a brave face on for my teammates, for Josh. They love and need my dad, too. How much have we all taken him for granted? His constant encouragement, his words of advice. The way he makes every holiday—and each Sunday at Roscoe’s—a reason to celebrate. Without him… I can’t even imagine how I’ll go on.

When I trudge through the door into the waiting area, Fletcher is waiting for me once again. He wraps me in his arms, wordlessly offering me his support.

I should be strong for him, too. As my dom and my teacher, he’s always giving to me. All I do is take and take. Maybe it’s time for me to grow up. That’s what Dad would want, right? For me to be strong, just like he’s always been. I should follow in my father’s footsteps, in more ways than one.

“How is he?” Fletcher asks, leaning back to look at me.

“He’s breathing.” I shrug. “Not on his own, but at least he opened his eyes for a minute.”

The professor squeezes my arm. “That’s a good sign. After a surgery like the one he just had, I would say that’s a very good sign indeed.”

“I guess.” I rub a fist across my eyes. I wish I could be as optimistic.

Fletcher searches my face. “You need to sleep. When you’re ready—“

“I’m not leaving,” I say. “What if I’m gone and—?”

“You don’t have to leave, Ben,” he tells me. “I reserved a sleep room for you. St. Joseph provides them for families of ICU patients. You need to get some rest.”

“But what if—“

“Sleep,” he insists. “The nurses have been informed where to find you. They’ll let you know if there are any changes.”

My shoulders slump. Maybe he’s right. I’m no good to anyone right now, least of all my dad. Once I’ve said good night to a few friends still in the waiting area, I follow the professor to my room. Not that I expect to get much sleep there, but at least I don’t have to leave the hospital.

“Rest, Ben,” Fletcher tells me at the door. “I’ll speak with the nurses before I leave. Things will look better in the morning.”

I hope that’s true. Right now, things couldn’t look much worse.

The next morning…

I hurry into the ICU ward, yawning despite myself. A nurse just came to tell me that my father’s awake. Hopefully, he’ll be able to say a few words to me. I can’t wait to hear his voice again. It feels like a lifetime since we’ve spoken.

When I enter Dad’s room, he’s sitting up—without a breathing tube, thank god. As I sink into a chair next to his hospital bed, I reach out for his hand.

“Hey, Georgey-boy. I’m sorry I put you through this, son.” My father’s voice is a quiet rasp.

Oh, god. He’s worried about me . “How are you feeling, Dad? Does it hurt real bad?”

“I’ll be fine, Junior. I swear I’ll eat my veggies from now on.” He gives me a tired smile.

I return a half-hearted laugh, faking a cheerful tone. “You’d better. You wanna be around to see me win my first Super Bowl, don’t ya?”

His smile fades. “About that, Son. We need to talk.”

“What’s there to talk about, Pops? You just rest.” I pat his arm above the IV line. “There’s nothing to worry about. Fletcher will help us understand all the medical stuff.”

My dad slowly nods his head. “And that’s something else we should talk about.”

I stand up from my chair. “You need to take it easy,” I say. “You just got your breathing tube out. We can talk once they move you out of ICU, OK?”

He closes his eyes and nods. “Sure, Georgey-boy. How are you holding up?”

“Don’t worry about me, Pops. The Bennett men are strong, right?” I give his hand a squeeze. “I’m just gonna sit over in the corner while you sleep. I’ll be here if you need anything.”

Dad opens his heavy eyelids, then closes them again. “OK, Junior. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Dad.” I’ll never take those words for granted again.

My thoughts spin in circles as I sit and face the window. What does my father want to talk to me about? Yeah, I’ve been dodging him whenever he brings up the NFL. There’s nothing I want more than to go to grad school, but just imagining the crushed look on my dad’s face has kept me from admitting it to him. How can I let him down, especially at a time like this? And what does he want to say to me about Fletcher? Ever since the Super Bowl party, I’ve had a nagging suspicion that he knows...

If I’m gonna pursue a career in the NFL, I’m gonna have to stay in the closet a while longer. But does that mean I need to hide my true self from the people that I love? I’m starting to feel like I’m lying to everyone, especially my father. My closest friends won’t turn on me, so what’s holding me back? What kind of example am I setting for Josh? I shouldn’t have to hide who I am—I’m proud of being with Fletcher. If it were up to me, I’d shout it from the rooftops.

It’s time to admit it, if only to myself. I’m head over heels in love with my professor. As if I ever stood a chance. Fletcher is everything I could ever want in a partner. He says we’re family now... Does that mean he has feelings for me, too? If he does, how can I leave him for the NFL? But how can I stay if it means breaking my father’s heart?

As I watch the sun rise outside of the hospital window, my thoughts continue to spin. If my dad lives through this, then I’ve gotta make a decision. Either way, someone’s gonna get hurt.

What am I gonna do?