Dr. Brandt: Billionaires’ Club Book 5 (Billionaires’ Club Series)

It’d been a week since Jacks’s injury, and his diagnosis was better than I’d imagined. He’d suffered a concussion—which he’d managed to pull out of without further harm—but waiting alone in that cold, tense room for the doctors to come in still weighed heavily on my mind. Warren didn’t even show up until after I’d been called back to see my son.

He’ll be fine, Jess. It happens all the time, and we’re already used to his seizures. Fuck Warren for being so dismissive on the phone about the situation that night. I was still pissed about it.

I hated to feel this way about the man, but I couldn’t help it. Forgive me for being an overprotective mom, but I didn’t care what anyone thought. We beat these seizures before, and now they were returning thanks to that fucking concussion.

“You doing okay tonight?” Warren asked after coming home early from work.

I tensed when his hand reached for me where I sat on my favorite lounging sofa. I was curled up with a knitted throw blanket, and my body was molded against the large throw pillow.

“Babe?” Warren called out again, and I finally looked at him with the same disgust I’d developed through anger and frustration since that night.

“What?” I tried to keep from snapping, hopefully preventing another argument wherein I received a delivery of flowers to make it all okay again. I sighed and pulled my hair out of the ponytail that was the source of my current headache. “I’m sorry. My head is killing me. I just need to go to bed.”

I stood, but Warren was faster than I expected. He sat on the couch and pulled me onto his lap. I cringed when he began to rub my shoulders, wishing I could shake this mood.

“Damn, you’re all knotted up,” he said, rubbing my shoulders in a soothing motion. “Would you like me to call my therapist? Is this why you’ve been so cranky this week?”

Oh, right. You forgot I’m still pissed at you, and flowers didn’t fix the problem this time, my thoughts rumbled through my mind.

I shrugged him off and rose. “I don’t need your damn therapist.”

Warren’s eyes widened, and his features darkened some. “Then what the hell is your problem? It can’t be Jackson because the doctors cleared him, and he hasn’t had a seizure since the night of his concussion. So, what is it now?”

I heard the rising frustration in his voice, and the last thing I wanted was another fight.

I couldn’t help but run my hands through my hair and grip the sides of my head. “What if they do come back?” I looked toward the steps that led upstairs, where I knew Jackson was doing his homework.

“Are we going to play the what-if game tonight and ruin the fact that I came home early with Chinese takeout?” He smiled playfully at me. “I saved you from cooking, and this is the thanks I get?”

I eyed him and his horrible attempt to make me lighten up. “While I appreciate that gesture, I need you to appreciate where I stand with my son at the moment.”

“Your son?” He seemed offended by that. “I may not have the adoption papers filed, but it doesn’t mean he’s just your son, Jess.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come off that way.”

He stood and brought me into his arms. “I know this is upsetting, but even though Jacks isn’t cleared to play ball, that doesn’t mean we’re going backward with his seizures.”

“Maybe it’s the way you responded that night.” I pulled back and stared him in the eyes. “Maybe that’s why I feel suddenly like it’s just Jackson and me again.”

Warren ran a hand through his hair. “We’re back to this again, eh? I’m the problem?”

“You’re not the problem. I don’t know what the problem is,” I tried to diffuse the argument I knew I’d lose—or just gain more fucking flowers from. “I don’t feel right about any of this. I don’t like it.”

“I don’t like that you’re feeling so doom and gloom about everything, babe,” he softened his voice and features. “Please tell me you’re not like this around Jackson.”

“Of course, I’m not. Jesus, why would you think that I would bring this around my son? The last thing he needs is his mom to fall apart.”

“Then, pull your shit together,” Warren teased, but, like everything he seemed to do lately, it wasn’t funny.

“I need to go to bed. I’m going to check on Jacks, and then it’s lights out for me. I’m done with this week.”

“It’s seven in the evening,” Warren said.

“Good, I’ll get a full night’s rest before I go back to work tomorrow.”

“Talk to me, Jessica. Is it me, pressuring you for the wedding date?”

Fucking hell. I forgot about that until now.

“I don’t care about wedding dates. I wanted you to be there for Jackson and me that night, but work was in the way as usual. Hell, I think if I did decide on a wedding date, you’d have a snag with a deal and leave me standing at the altar, wondering where my groom is.”

“What has gotten into you?” Warren slumped back down on the couch and propped his feet on the marble table in front of it. He grabbed the remote and pointedly ignored me. “Go to bed. I think your hormones have gone a little wild. You’re just being cruel now.”

He was right about one thing; I was turning cold toward him. I was taking shots at Warren just to be mean because I was angry about what was happening to my son, and I felt alone in my concerns for his well-being. This wasn’t who I was, and I didn’t like what the stress was doing to me.

“I’m sorry. Please just understand that it’s tough not knowing if Jackson will have issues after the hit he took.”

“Understandable.” Warren was dismissive. “Get some rest. Maybe being at work will help you loosen up, and you’ll realize everything that the doctors and I already know.”

I dug out a smile I knew was hiding somewhere deep inside of me. “You know what they say about a mother’s instinct, right?”

“Yes,” Warren finally smiled. “I know that instinct is prompting you to want to kick my ass these days if I say the wrong things at the wrong times.”

“I’m sorry for that.” I really was, but I couldn’t help feeling the way I did. I leaned over and kissed his forehead. “I love you. I’m sorry, but I’m going to go to bed.”

He ran his fingers across my cheek. “I love you too. Look at me,” he said when my eyes diverted from his. “We’re all going to be fine.”

That’s when his phone buzzed.

“Text or email?” I smiled smugly, knowing someone out there was about to pull Warren away for the rest of the evening whether I stayed down here a moment longer or not.

“Give me a goddamn break. I have to go to London in two days,” he snarled as he scrolled through the phone, staring at it as if it were the adversary I’d always believed it to be. “Those bastards couldn’t close the acquisition of that business, and now they’re bringing me in to do the work. I should fire all of them.”

“You act like you own the entire company,” I tried to tease and lighten his mood.

He looked up at me. “I’d love to take you with me. I have to be there for a week, but—”

“But nothing.” I chuckled. “You know I’m not leaving Jackson right now.”

“No doubt,” he said. “Will you be okay if I take off for a week?”

“I’ll be fine,” I said with ease. “Handle your stuff. Maybe I’ll run a bath and then head to bed.”

“Okay, babe. I’ll come up in a bit,” he said as he got up to grab his laptop and start working.

As I turned and hopped up the steps, I heard a thud followed by grunting noises coming from Jackson’s room.

“Warren!” I shouted, leaping up the steps.

Warren flew up the stairs as I threw open Jackson’s door to find him in a seizure. He was on the ground and kicking against his gaming chair.

Shit! Why was he playing a game with a seizure warning on the box?

Warren and I got him on his side and made sure he did nothing to harm himself while the seizure ran its course. This was what I was dreading, and now I knew I wasn’t losing my mind. I’d demanded further tests, but everyone was confident Jacks would be fine after his concussion. I guess I was the only one who saw that differently, so what was I thinking by not running with my instincts?

Nothing would stop me from getting a second opinion and having more scans to see why Jackson’s seizures were back. Then, I would get him the help he needed. Medical science had advanced tremendously, and I knew there had to be a better neurologist out there who would be willing to help Jacks get past this.

Fuck me. Cameron! The memory of Cam telling me this was his area of expertise made me nearly shout out his name. All I needed to do now was figure out how to get us referred to my ex—who happened to be a pediatric neurosurgeon.

Suddenly, I hated myself for deleting the phone number he gave me. There was nothing I wouldn’t do to be able to call him right now and get his help.