Page 111 of The Holiday Clause

“He will be. For now.”

Magnus had been sick for some time, and the doctors weren’t optimistic. They told the boys he only had a few months left, but their relationship with their father was so strained, none of them seemed to be taking his prognosis seriously. At least not outwardly.

She wondered if this served as the wake-up call they needed. “What happened?”

He sighed and turned to face her, the strain of his concern evident in his tired posture. “He wasn’t feeling well. Monica, his maid, tried to get him to call the doctor, but he refused. It took three of us to force him into the car. Once they got some fluids into him at the hospital and ran some labs, they figured out the issue.”

“What was it?”

“Pneumonia. They’re treating him with antibiotics and keeping him for a few days.”

The kettle whistled, and he removed it from the burner, pouring water into the mug to steep. He carried it to the coffee table and tossed another log on the fire. Rather than turn on the lights, he lit the candles on the mantle, then sat beside her.

The flames cast shadows across his features, softening the harsh lines of exhaustion and painting everything in an intimate golden glow. He settled beside her, the amber light making his eyes appear almost molten.

“That’s why I wasn’t there last night. I know I should have called, but I wasn’t thinking.”

She sighed, guilt washing over her. “I don’t know what to say.” He had a valid excuse. Why had she not considered an emergency with his father? “I’m sorry, Grey. I can’t imagine how hard that was for you.”

He took her hand. “What do you say we stop apologizing to each other and start over?”

That sounded like a fair plan. “Okay.” When he leaned in to kiss her, she drew back. “That doesn’t mean I want to be more than friends.”

His brow creased, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he pulled her feet to his lap. “I promised a foot rub.”

She didn’t stop him, because no one gave a foot rub better than Greyson Hawthorne. “My dad had an episode yesterday, too.”

His fingers already worked their magic, but momentarily stilled. “How bad?”

“We’ve had worse episodes. It took a while for me to get him inside. I had to skip my yoga class.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I thought we weren’t apologizing anymore.”

“Right. I wish you didn’t have to deal with that.”

She lifted a shoulder. “It’s Bodhi. I’m used to it.”

“Is he back to normal now?”

“Pretty much. He went on and on about the loose shingles on some of the cat shelters?—”

“I’ll come by tomorrow,” he said, before she even had a chance to ask.

“Thanks.”

He tugged her toes gently. “No one warns you about how hard it gets… watching our parents struggle.”

Stunned to hear him sharing his feelings, she didn’t speak. Her breath caught at this rare glimpse of vulnerability—Greyson Hawthorne was opening up to her.

“Seeing someone as indomitable as Magnus taken down by a cough…” He swallowed hard. “It’s insane to me.”

Bodhi was the complete opposite of Magnus Hawthorne. Her father was passive, gentle, and soft-spoken. Magnus Hawthorne terrified people. “Your dad’s still stronger than most.”

“I guess it’s a good thing he’s always been a defiant prick. If anything, he won’t go until he’s damn well ready.”

She smiled, hoping he spoke the truth.