“They’re not going to know. Not unless you tell them. Answer it.”
Sighing, I snatched it up, mumbling an extremely tepid greeting in French.
“Is that Laurent Dupont?” a female voice asked. “The son of Craig Hoskins?” My mother had insisted that a French boy needed a French surname and had kept her own when she married and I was already on the way. Given the somewhat estranged relationship my father and I shared, it seemed apt, all these years later, that we didn’t share a surname, like a peculiar piece of foreshadowing of things to come. Sometimes I wondered what my mother would have had to say about the state of our relationship had she still been alive, and then I remembered that if she was still alive, things would likely be different. Cancer had a lot to answer for. It had come into my life like a wrecking ball, and years later, I was still paying the price.
I tamped down on the instinctive urge to deny all knowledge of him. Whatever else he was, he was my father.
My father. My problem.
“I am.”
“I’m a nurse and I’m calling from Hospital Paris Saint-Joseph.” White noise started up in my head and I grabbed Mac’s hair to hold him still, Mac having decided he wasn’t going to wait for me to finish the call to continue the blow job.
He didn’t argue, sitting back on his haunches and regarding me with concern as I stood and straightened my clothes, my cock already shrinking. “What’s wrong?”
I shook my head. “Is he… Is he okay?” The space between me asking and the nurse answering was only a few seconds, but it felt like longer. What if my father was dead? What if that’s what she’d called to tell me? The streets of Paris could be dangerous. I knew that. Especially when ninety-five percent of your time spent navigating them was in a less than sober state. Could Ihave done more? The answer to that question was undoubtedly yes.ShouldI have done more? The jury was still out on that one.
“We admitted your father a couple of hours ago. He has several injuries, the worst of which is a nasty head wound that has left him with concussion.”
Not dead, then. The relief was almost overpowering. Which was interesting, considering the times I’d thought that life might be easier without him around. “How did it happen?”
“A witness reported that he fell from the side of a building. We’re not sure why he was climbing it.”
“He has a drink problem,” I admitted. “I would assume that had something to do with it. And you probably need to know he has alcohol in his system if you’re treating him with any medication.”
“I’ll let the doctor know.”
“How did you get my number?”
“Your father had it written on a piece of paper in his pocket. Just the number and your name with son in brackets.”
“Right.” That was news to me.
“We thought you’d want to know about his condition.”
“I do. Is he conscious?”
“Not currently.”
“What ward is he on?” I asked as I desperately searched for a piece of paper and a pen. Despite the conversation being in French, Mac somehow worked out what I needed, and passed both to me so I could scribble down the name of the ward and directions for how to find it without wandering the endless maze of floors and corridors.
Mac leaned over my shoulder as I ended the call, the information written apparently enough for him to put two and two together. “Your father?” he called after me as I headed into the bedroom in search of a shirt.
“Oui.”
He hovered in the doorway as I pulled a T-shirt over my head. “Is he okay?”
I relayed what I’d been told, Mac nodding occasionally. “Are you going to see him?”
I took immediate umbrage at the question. “Of course I’m going to see him. He’s my father. Do you think I’m going to just leave him there on his own, with no visitors? What do you take me for? Even if he doesn’t want me there and tells me to fuck off once he regains consciousness, I’m going to be there. So I’m sorry if that’s ruined your plans for the evening.”
Mac held both his hands up in a defensive gesture. “It was a question, Laurent, not an attack or a criticism.”
Of course it was. I was being irrational. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine. I know you’re upset.”
“I’m not upset.”
