by Pandora Pine
“Thank you for taking such good care of Tucker.” Nash held out his hand to shake with the nurse.
“You’re welcome. He’s a sweet little boy.”
“Yes, he is.” Nash turned back to Mitch and Peg. “Ready?” Nash peeked into the hospital room and saw Tucker curled on his side wearing a little johnny patterned with dinosaurs. Another nurse was sitting at his bedside. “Hey, buddy!” Nash pasted on a smile for Tucker’s benefit.
“Mr. Spencer!” Tucker rolled over to sit up, wincing a bit.
Slipping his shoes off, Nash crawled up on the hospital bed with Tucker. “When we’re not at school, you can call me Nash, okay?”
Tucker nodded and crawled into Nash’s lap, resting his head on Nash’s shoulder. “I love you, Nash.”
Wrapping his arms around the injured boy as tightly as he dared, Nash pressed a kiss to his blond head. “I love you too, buddy.” He could feel tears starting in the back of his eyes, but he wasn’t going to cry in front of Tucker. He’d do that later when he was alone.
“Is my Daddy safe?” Tucker asked quietly, his face buried in the crook of Nash’s neck.
Nash exchanged an uneasy look with Peg and Mitch. Why on Earth would Tucker not think his father was safe? “Of course your Daddy is safe. You are too.”
Seemingly satisfied with Nash’s answer, Tucker rested his head back down on his shoulder.
"I getted a needle in my arm." Tucker held up his arm to show Nash.
"I like the Superman band-aid." Nash couldn't help but wonder why they would need to draw Tucker’s blood.
"I wanna go home, Nash." Tucker’s voice was barely above a whisper.
Tucker’s tiny voice broke Nash’s heart. He wanted the old boisterous Tucker back, the one who told fart jokes and bounced around the room like a hummingbird on speed. "Soon, buddy. We're gonna spend the night with Grams and Pop-Pop, okay?"
"With my Daddy?" Tucker pulled his head up off of Nash's shoulder. His tired green eyes wore a hopeful look.
How could Nash tell Tucker he wasn't allowed to see his father? How could he make Tucker understand a thing like that?
"Not tonight, little man." Peg sat on the side of the bed and pressed a kiss to Tucker’s head. "We're gonna have a slumber party. Just you and me and Nash and Pop-Pop."
"Who's gonna keep Daddy safe?" Tucker's eyes never left Nash's.
"Hey there Tucker!" a happy voice called from inside the door.
"Hi, Doctor Ben." Tucker rested his head against Nash's shoulder again, wrapping his arms around Nash’s neck.
"Ben Wagner." The doctor held out a hand to Nash. He was wearing a scrub top patterned with toy trucks and was carrying a small laptop like a textbook.
"Nash Spencer." The doctor had a firm grip and gorgeous dark eyes.
"Ahh, so you're the amazing Mr. Spencer I've heard so much about. I'm Tucker's pediatrician. He’s told me all about your classroom lizards.” The doctor leaned in a bit closer. “We thought it would be easier on him if he had a familiar face here..."
Nash nodded. Thank God for people who looked out for kids like Doctor Wagner.
"All of Tucker’s blood tests came back perfect. Of course they did because Tucker is awesome!" The doctor rifled a hand through Tucker's hair.
Nash grinned at the doctor. "When can we take him home?"
"You've been named as Tucker's Guardian ad Litem, yeah?"
"Yes." Nash hadn't signed the papers yet, but he wasn't about to tell the doctor that.
"Buddy, why don't you go change back into your clothes okay?" Doctor Wagner offered Tucker a big smile.
"Okay, Doctor Ben." Tucker didn't make a move to let go of Nash, instead holding him tighter.
"I'm safe here with Doctor Ben. I promise." Nash rubbed a hand against Tucker’s upper back.
Tucker nodded and sat back up. He nibbled his top lip nervously, staring up at Nash.
"Come on, little man. Let's get you back into your favorite shirt." Peg was holding the clothes Tucker wore to school.
It seemed like a lifetime had passed since Nash saw Tucker wearing his Rex Rules shirt. Peg plucked Tucker off his lap and hauled him away.
When Tucker was in the bathroom with his grandparents, the doctor turned back to Nash. "I know Bronson could never do anything like this to Tucker, but without proof, all I can do is state the facts in my report to the police and child services."
"I understand." It was nice to know others didn't think Bronson could do this to Tucker either. Nash’s thoughts turned back to Bronson. He didn’t want to think about the man that he loved being locked up in jail for being a concerned parent, albeit one who threatened to kill his ex-wife if she’d been the one to harm Tucker.
"Tucker keeps asking if his father is safe and based on your conversation with him just now, he seems worried about you too." The doctor’s dark eyes conveyed genuine concern.
"I noticed the same thing. In the month or so that I've known Tucker, he's never been worried about anyone's safety. Or about anything in general." Tucker was probably the most easygoing kid in his class this year.
"It makes me think whoever did this to him is using Bronson and maybe even you as a way of keeping him quiet."
Nash nodded. He'd wondered the same thing. "He didn't give you any clue about who did this to him?"
Doctor Wagner shook his head sadly. "He didn't say a word, but his body spoke for him."
Nash frowned. “What do you mean?"
The doctor opened the laptop he carried and turned it around to show Nash. "These are the photographs we took of Tucker's injuries. Notice the handprint on his lower back."
"Oh my God." Nash gasped, his hand fluttering to his heart. Clear as day in Tucker’s skin was a partial handprint. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes. Now wasn't the time to cry, but Jesus Christ, someone did this to Tucker.
"I know it's awful to look at, but the picture tells us a lot." The doctor held up his right hand to the mark. "You can tell it was a right hand and that the fingers are smaller than mine."
With a shaking hand, Nash reached out to touch the screen. The handprint was smaller than his own. "Bronson's hands are bigger than mine."
"I know," Ben said with a wistful look.
"You know?" Had Ben been one of Bronson's lovers?
"I've had a crush on Bronson for years. I'm a hand man, what can I say?" Ben blushed and flipped to the next picture.
Nash was totally taken aback by what the doctor had just said to him, but now wasn't the time to ask questions.
Doctor Wagner cleared his throat. "What the pictures don't tell us is who hurt Tucker. From what I understand, he was with you and Bronson for a while on Friday night and then with his mother and step-father-to-be until Sunday night when he was dropped back off with his father. Is that right?"
"Yeah." Nash shivered, wrapping his arms around himself.
"What is it?"
"I was just remembering the way Alicia shouted when she came to get Tucker on Friday night. She was yelling awful things at me and Bronson and had scared Tucker to death. He flew into my lap and held on for dear life."
"So it's possible the mother hurt him. I've never gotten a very motherly vibe from her, although I only met her once. After that, it was Bronson who brought Tucker in for his shots and when he was sick."
"That sounds like Alicia. I've never gotten a motherly vibe from her either. It wouldn't surprise me if she or the boyfriend hurt Tucker. I mean what man wants to be burdened with someone else's child?"
Ben laughed. "You do, Nash. I can see how much you and Tucker love each other."
Nash nodded. "He's a special kid and it kills me that someone could hurt him physically and then scare him into keeping quiet."
"The key to all of this is Tucker telling someone what happened to him. The most likely person he'd tell is you. He's going to need a lot of support and cuddles over the next few days. Give him all he needs and then some. Don't ask him directly who hurt him. Try to find a way around a
sking that question."
"Okay. I'm thinking of taking a few personal days so I can be with him when Bronson can't be."
"I think that's a great idea." Ben got up from the bed. "Here's my card." He flipped it over and scribbled something on the back. "This is my personal cell number. Call me if you need anything, day or night."
"I will. I can't thank you enough for taking care of Tucker today."
"I love my kids like they're my own. I'd do anything to help them." Ben's smile was warm. "If Tucker does manage to open up about who did this, you might want to talk to Rainier about letting him testify at the temporary custody hearing. The age of reason in Massachusetts is seven years old, but Tucker is mature and well-spoken enough for his testimony to be heard in open court. Hearing from Tucker could be the nail in the coffin that takes him away from his mother permanently."
Nash found his first smile in what felt like hours. He'd do everything in his power to make sure the only way Alicia McKinnon saw her son again was through pictures.
23
The temporary custody hearing was set for 10:00am on Thursday morning. Nash had been given permission to take Tuesday through Thursday as personal days so he could serve his duties as Tucker’s Guardian ad Litem. He hated being away from his other students, but Tucker needed him more.
Both he and the McKinnons had agreed that the best place for Tucker was home with them until the business of who hurt him had been laid to rest. Nash knew with his entire heart that Bronson was innocent, but only the judge could reunite them as a family.
It had been hard, but Nash had complied with Doctor Wagner’s request that he not ask Tucker who had hurt him. Nash had been around five year olds long enough to know Tucker would tell him what happened when he was ready. In the meantime, they’d spent all day Tuesday playing outside and doing art projects at the kitchen table.
Nash was cleaning up the mess they had made while Peg was in Tucker’s room reading books with him.
“He’s out like a light.” Peg grinned, walking back into the kitchen. She took her usual seat at the kitchen table.
“I ran him ragged outside this morning and he’s probably still sore from…” Nash couldn’t bear to say it. Every time he thought about the marks on Tucker’s back, he thought he was going to throw up.
“How about some tea?” Peg moved to stand back up.
“Absolutely, but I’m making it.” Nash grinned and headed toward the stove. Once the burner was turned on under the kettle, he grabbed a couple of mugs from the drain board.
“Thanks, Nash.” Peg settled back into her chair. “Have you heard from Bronson yet?”
Nash shook his head, not bothering to turn around. Once he and Tucker were settled in last night, Mitch had gone down to the police station to see Bronson. It turned out he hadn’t been arrested on any charges and was allowed to go back to his apartment. He’d texted Bronson several times, but hadn’t gotten a response yet.
Peg shook her head. “My son’s always been a stubborn boy.”
Nash snorted. “This is more than being stubborn. He’s hurt. When Rainier called last night he told me that Bronson thinks I didn’t stand up for him in front of that cop yesterday.” Nash grabbed the whistling kettle off the stove and poured the hot water into two mugs, before carrying them to the table.
Peg nodded, accepting a steaming mug from Nash. “Nothing you could have said would have made a difference to that cop, Nash. They need to eliminate Bronson as a suspect based on hard evidence, not based on the glowing praise of his boyfriend.”
Nash burst out laughing. “How do you know my praise would have been glowing?” It would have been, but how did Peg know that?
Peg rolled her eyes. “Oh, please! I’m not blind! I see the way you look at him.”
“How do I look at him?” Nash knew exactly how Bronson looked at him, like the sun rose and set on him. At least he did until last night.
Peg grabbed an earl grey teabag out of the caddy on the table. “Just like I look at my Mitch, like Bronson’s the love of your life.”
“Fine. I’ll give you that. He is the love of my life. I’m just afraid I’ve lost him forever.” This situation was hard enough when they were just dealing with Alicia’s custody suit, but now with Tucker being hurt, Bronson had lost his shared custody until at least Thursday, possibly longer, if the judge couldn’t decide who was best suited to have Tucker.
“Did Tucker say anything about who hurt him while you’ve been reading to him?” Nash had been thinking over what Doctor Wagner said about not asking Tucker directly who’d hurt him but instead to find another way to get Tucker to tell him, but so far hadn’t figured out the right thing to say.
“No, not a blessed peep.” Peg set her mug down on the table. “He kept asking if his Daddy was safe.”
Nash shook his head. “It sounds like whoever did this told Tucker that if he tattled about who hurt him, they’d hurt Bronson.”
“It’s not bad enough they hurt him and burst his little bubble of childhood innocence, they had to go and scare the daylights out of him too!”Anger burned in Peg’s green eyes.
“Doctor Wagner said something about finding a backdoor way to ask Tucker what happened, instead of asking him directly. Do you think if we ask if he’s afraid you or I will hurt Bronson, that it might get him to open up about who Tucker’s afraid of himself?”
“It’s possible.” Peg tilted her head to the side, seemingly studying Nash. “I wonder what Bronson’s theory is?”
“Did Mitch say anything about that when he got back from the police station last night?” Nash had sat and listened to what Mitch had to say when he got back to the house, but he’d gotten the feeling Mitch wanted to speak with his wife alone and had excused himself to go to bed. When he’d gotten up this morning, Mitch was gone, leaving a note saying he was off to spend time with his camera.
“No.” Peg shook her head. “He was just telling me how gutted Bronson looked sitting in the police station. His wrists had marks from where the hand cuffs had dug into his skin.”
Nash winced. He hated to think of Bronson cuffed and under suspicion.
Reaching out to Nash, Peg settled her hands on top of his. “I know you’re both upset. The problem is that you’re both upset alone. If he’s too stubborn to call or text you back, why don’t you go see him? Bring him the artwork Tucker made for him. I know he’d love that.”
Nash wasn’t so sure. Seeing what Tucker had been up to without him might just tip Bronson over the edge. “Maybe.”
“Bronson never eats when he’s upset. He loves the chicken enchiladas from Loco Taqueria across town…” Peg took a sip of her tea, not meeting Nash’s eyes.
Nash knew when to take a hint. “With or without guacamole?”
XX
Bronson had barely slept a wink all night. After his father had dropped him off from the police station, he’d just sat on the sofa trying to make sense of everything that had happened in the last three days.
He’d spent the morning documenting everything he could remember about Tucker when he’d gotten dropped off on Sunday night. Once Bronson had emailed that off to Rainier, the rest of his day was free.
Thankfully, his boss at the library understood that Tucker was more important than anything else and didn’t mind him taking time off at the last minute. Bronson had earmarked the last week of his vacation for Tucker’s Christmas break, but if he couldn’t convince the judge that Tucker’s best interests lay with him, then he wouldn’t need that time off at Christmas.
If he did end up winning, he could have his parents watch Tucker during Christmas break. Or Nash… Bronson shook his head, sitting up on the couch and burying his face in his hands. Not having Nash by his side to face whatever was to come was gut-wrenching.
His life had been a mess of his own making, but ever since he met Nash, Bronson had started to feel like he was exactly where he was meant to be. After Nash refused to stand up for him last night, he’d started to feel like h
e’d been wrong about everything. Maybe he was just destined to live his life alone and unloved.
The screeching door buzzer pulled him out of his pity party for one. It was probably his father stopping by to make sure he was okay. He wouldn’t be surprised if his mom sent over some food. Bronson’s stomach grumbled, as if on command.
Without bothering to ask who was at the door, he hit the unlock button and waited for his father’s knock. When it came, he yanked the door open, but was surprised to see it wasn’t his dad, but Nash. “What are you doing here, Benedict Arnold? Come looking for other secrets you can use to sell me out?”
Nash’s smile crumpled. He pushed past Bronson into the apartment, setting down a large, handled, brown paper bag and some paintings on the kitchen table. He took a deep breath before he turned around to face Bronson. “I didn’t sell you out, Bronson.”
“That’s only because the police haven’t interviewed you yet.” Bronson couldn’t help being curious about what Nash brought him. He could smell Mexican spices and knew the paintings had to be from Tucker.
Sighing, Nash carded a hand through his hair. He went over to the kitchen cabinet and grabbed two plates and silverware. “I’m meeting with the police first thing in the morning and then your parents are next.” Nash set the plates down on the table and opened up the bag of food.