“It’ll be okay,” Brad murmured, kissing Ian’s hand.
Ian hesitated, as though he wanted to say something. They were in front of Gwen, though. Ian sighed, pressing his forehead against Brad’s cheek, closing his eyes.
“Are you really my daddy?” Gwen asked.
When Brad looked up, he found Gwen watching him. She was still sniffling, but she’d asked him the question, not Ian. Made Brad’s heart thump.
“You heard that, huh?” Brad said. Hadn’t meant to let it slip in front of her.
Gwen nodded.
Brad glanced at Ian, uncertain.
“Go ahead,” Ian said. “You may as well.”
“You’re sure.”
Ian nodded, never once leaning away from Brad. So Brad exhaled, reaching over to comb his fingers through Gwen’s hair. “Yeah. I’m your other dad. Sorry I wasn’t around while you were growing up.”
“Daddy talked about you,” Gwen said thoughtfully. “He said you were a very nice alpha.”
Ian cracked a smile, and Brad’s heart warmed. “I was nice, huh?” Brad murmured.
“Perhaps,” Ian said.
“So do I call you Daddy too?” Gwen asked.
Brad’s heart missed a beat. “If you want.”
Gwen nodded, chewing her lip. “Daddy always says I look like him.”
“Except for your eyes,” Brad said. “You have my eyes.”
Ian sucked in a shaky breath, pressing himself against Brad’s chest. “Yeah, Gwen does have your eyes. You were so surprised when I remembered you.” He chuckled softly. “There was no way I could forget.”
Brad gulped, his heart pattering. It always surprised him, knowing that Ian had thought of him frequently through the years.
He kissed Ian’s forehead. Looked up when the elevator doors slid open.
Past the doors, the hospital had pale blue walls, and potted plants in some corners. There were a few people in the cardiology ward. Gwen made a face when the nurses pushed her out into the hallway, parking her just outside the MRI room.
“I’m sorry you have to go through this, Gwen,” Ian said, releasing Brad to hug his daughter. “If there’s one thing I wish I could change…”
Gwen whined, her lips pulling into a pout.
“C’mon, Gwen,” Brad said, squeezing Ian’s hand. “Didn’t you say you got a new truck game? How about you show me how to play?”
Gwen brightened. She fumbled for her phone, and Ian handed it to her. Then she opened the game application, and Brad stood by the gurney, watching as she explored the game. Ian fidgeted, his expression unsure.
A couple of times, the nurses dropped by to check on Gwen. After they left, Gwen’s frown faded, and she began to smile, her tiny fingers tapping on her phone.
Instead of the game, Brad watched his daughter. Stroked her hair, pressing a kiss to her temple.
She’s mine, too. Hard to believe that. Hard to believe she’d be having an MRI done, possibly going into surgery, and there was a chance he could lose her.
A suffocating fear rose through his chest. Brad shoved it away. He pointed at the screen, asking about the controls on the game. Watched as Gwen got better at the truck race, dodging other trucks, pulling forward.
“You’re doing great,” he murmured, cheering quietly when her truck made it past the finish line. “Always knew you could do it!”
She beamed up at him, and Brad ruffled her hair.
Then the door to the MRI room opened, and Brad’s heart sank. Ian took the phone back from Gwen, murmuring to her. Brad followed them into the room, watching as Gwen lay on the bed of the MRI, the giant cylinder so huge around her.
It felt like an eternity before they finished that scan. Fenway showed them the images of Gwen’s chest, and pointed out the narrowed arteries around her heart.
Ian swayed, leaning into Brad. Brad didn’t know what he could do. Felt so fucking helpless.
The nurses wheeled Gwen back outside, and Ian fussed over her, checking that she was okay. Her pulse was still high, though. Brad had already expected it when Dr. Fenway stepped out of the operating theater, dressed in his surgical garb.
Ian’s hands tightened around Gwen; Gwen whimpered.
If this was the last time he ever saw Gwen… Brad forced the thought away. Stepped up to Gwen and kissed her cheek.
“You’ll be fine,” Brad whispered, meeting her fearful eyes. “I promise.”
And now he knew what Ian felt like, making promises he wasn’t sure he could keep.
Ian hugged Gwen tightly. Then he looked up at Fenway. “Is it okay if I accompany Gwen in?” he asked shakily. “Just for a bit to make sure she’s comfortable.”
“You’re welcome to,” Fenway said.
The nurses pushed the gurney in. Brad watched as Ian disappeared through the doors with their daughter, his eyes shadowed. Brad paced along the hallway, his skin crawling.
A few minutes later, Ian emerged from the operating theater. The red light above the double doors came on.
Ian looked like he was about to cry.
Brad caught Ian, pulled him into a tight hug, and buried his nose in Ian’s hair.
“She’s gone under,” Ian mumbled into Brad’s shoulder, his nails digging into Brad’s sides. “I don’t—don’t know how long it’ll be. He said it might take a few hours if there’s no complications.”
Gods, a few hours would drag, thousands of moments of not knowing if Gwen would be okay.
But they didn’t really have a choice, did they? Gwen’s arteries were already narrowed. Sooner or later, if they left her heart unfixed, she might have another attack again. And maybe at that point, help wouldn’t be quite as close by.
Brad slipped his fingers through Ian’s hair, holding on to him. He’d only known Gwen for two months. Couldn’t face the possibility of losing her now.
It was worse for Ian, wasn’t it? Ian, who had leaned on Gwen through the years, because he didn’t have anyone else.
Brad imagined Ian alone in the hospital all those other times, waiting to find out about Gwen’s surgery, not knowing if each time had been the last he’d kissed her. Ian hadn’t had anyone holding him then, hadn’t had anyone there to comfort him, catch him if he fell.
Even though he had cut himself,
