Those were his games, his designs, and the hottest games on the market. “I make the Myth World games,” Simon confessed in a more gentle voice. “I’ll teach you how to play when you’re feeling better.”
Of course the kid didn’t have a computer of his own. He was poor, and Simon knew what it was like to grow up in severe poverty.
“For real?” Timmy answered, looking like he wasn’t quite sure he could believe Simon.
Simon’s heart clenched as he answered, “I promise, and promises are important to me. I never break them.”
They were interrupted as the nurse came into the room. Even as sleepy as Timmy was, he obligingly held out his finger to be poked, never even flinching as the nurse stuck him for blood to test his sugar level.
Brave kid. Life is so fucking unfair sometimes. Not only does the poor little guy have nobody in this world who cares about him, but he’s poor and sick. What the hell? I might have grown up in poverty, and in a tough neighborhood, but at least I had Sam and my mother, and I was relatively healthy.
Kara and Timmy’s nurse conferred for a few minutes before the latter left the room. Simon didn’t catch exactly what they were talking about, but judging by the relieved look on his wife’s face, Timmy must be getting better.
“Does that hurt?” he asked Timmy. Simon was genuinely curious and concerned for the little boy who had endured so much.
“Naw. The shots don’t hurt neither, and they make me feel better,” Timmy answered nonchalantly. “I just don’t like the hospital.”
“I don’t blame you,” Simon muttered, amazed by how the child seemed to take everything in stride. It was damn sad when a boy his age didn’t kick up a fuss about anything. Probably because no one would care if he did.
Timmy looked back at Kara and asked solemnly, “My mom is dead, isn’t she?”
Simon looked at the torn look on Kara’s face before she answered sadly, “Yes, Timmy. She is. I’m sorry, sweetie.”
The boy nervously plucked at the blanket on his bed. “She hated me. She told me so. It was my fault because she drank, and I was a big problem because I was sick. But I still didn’t want her to die.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Simon answered huskily. “Drinking is a sickness, too. She was sick, and she wasn’t happy. But it wasn’t your fault. She didn’t mean it when she said she hated you. It was the sickness.”
Kara shot him a grateful look, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “Simon’s right. It wasn’t your fault, Timmy.”
“I think she really did hate me. Because I’m sick and I need so many doctors, I was too much trouble for her,” he answered, sounding resigned.
Simon clenched his fists, trying to restrain himself. He was angry, pissed at a woman who was already dead. “No child should ever be a problem to their parents. Did you ask to be born?”
Timmy shook his head slowly.
“She gave you life, and she should have taken better care of you, but she couldn’t because she was sick herself. It’s not your fault that you need doctors. It’s not your fault that you’re sick. You can get better, Timmy. You just need to get the care you need. Your mom couldn’t handle that, but somebody else will.” Maybe his conversation was a little too adult for the kid, but Timmy seemed to be an old soul, and Simon seemed to know instinctively what to say. Maybe it was because he could emphasize with some portions of the kid’s childhood.
“Do you really think so, Simon? I’ve always been sick.” Timmy’s voice was cautiously hopeful.
“I know so,” Simon rasped, still angry that this child had never gotten the care he needed.
“You really can, Timmy,” Kara reinforced. “When they get you stabilized and stronger, you can do all the things you’ve wanted to do.” Kara stroked his hair tenderly. “You’ll get better.”
“I want to learn to play Myth World,” Timmy said with a huge yawn. “Simon’s going to teach me when I get better.”
Simon decided at just that moment that he’d buy the kid a whole damn system and be his tutor so Timmy could kick everybody else’s ass at his games. “Get better fast,” Simon demanded. “It takes a while to get the hang of it and kick some butt.”
Kara sent him a reproving glance at his language, but Timmy just grinned at him, a little hesitantly, but with dawning hope.
“I’ll get better by tomorrow,” the child said emphatically as his eyes started to droop.
“I’ll be ready,” Simon answered, his heart swelling that the boy believed in him when he’d had so few adults who gave him reason to believe.
Simon was silent after that, watching Timmy closely as he drifted off to sleep, Kara still grasping his hand and stroking his hair.
Mine.
Christ, he loved his kindhearted wife. Very few women would take the time to comfort a small boy who had nobody else in the world. No wonder he fucking worshipped her.
And she doesn’t understand why she’s so damn beautiful to me?
Kara was sexy as hell because she was…Kara. Her fuller figure and the love that she gave their baby girl just made his cock even harder every time he looked at her. She was perfect in his eyes, and always would be. Thank fuck he could finally love her the way he wanted to, the way he needed to. Time hadn’t dampened his crazy, possessive love for her; it had just made it more intense.
They stayed until Timmy fell asleep, and Simon walked silently to the car, clinging to the same hand that Timmy had had in his grasp a short time ago.
It wasn’t often that his thirty-five-year-old self could be completely humbled by his thirty-year-old wife and a seven-year-old kid from the streets. But as Simon struggled for the words to tell Kara how he felt, he knew there was no way to convey to her how much he loved her.
“I love you,” he simply told her fiercely, right before he closed the passenger door.
Unable to express himself with more eloquent words, it would have to be enough.
Kara hopped into the shower, just as she always did whenever she arrived home from the clinic or the hospital, thinking about just how lucky she was to have such an extraordinary husband.
“How many billionaires would care about one of the many street kids out there who have nobody to really love them?” she whispered silently to herself while she washed shampoo from her hair.
She and Simon had talked about Timmy all the way home, Kara explaining his painful and sad history. She’d always adored the sweet little boy, and her heart had ached every time he left the clinic, she and Maddie both hoping that this time, his mother would follow up with Timmy’s care. Maddie had reported what she suspected was neglect to the authorities several times, but nothing had ever come of it. After Timmy was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes, Kara had made the appointment herself with a specialist for him. Yes, his mother had been a scattered emotional mess and a raging alcoholic, but it never occurred to Kara that she wouldn’t follow through on Timmy’s care when she knew damn well how serious her son’s condition was.