Chapter 3 - THE BOY WHO DIDN'T KNOW WHAT A MAFIA BOSS WAS
Wyatt Morrison didn't want to visit the hospital.
He stood beside Harold's truck, holding Titan's leash.
“Grandpa, what if he's scary?”
Harold looked down.
“He's a man who nearly died, son.”
Wyatt swallowed.
“But what if he doesn't like me?”
Harold knelt.
“Why wouldn't he?”
Wyatt looked away.
“Dad didn't.”
The words struck Harold like a fist.
He reached for his grandson's shoulder.
“Wyatt, your father leaving wasn't because you weren't worth staying for.”
Wyatt stared at the snow.
Harold continued.
“Sometimes grown-ups fail in ways children shouldn't have to understand.”
Wyatt nodded, though his eyes remained wet.
At the hospital, a security guard stopped them.
“Dogs aren't permitted upstairs.”
Wyatt tightened his grip on Titan's leash.
“But Titan found him.”
The guard hesitated.
Then a voice spoke behind him.
“Let them through.”
Reed Ashford stood near the elevators.
He looked at the enormous Mastiff.
Then at the boy.
“Jackson asked to see both of you.”
When Wyatt entered the room, he stopped.
The man in the bed looked different.
No snow.
No tape.
No blood on his face.
Just a pale man with dark hair and tired eyes.
Jackson studied the boy.
“You're Wyatt?”
Wyatt nodded.
“Yes, sir.”
Jackson glanced at Titan.
“And you're Titan.”
The dog approached cautiously.
Jackson held out his hand.
Titan sniffed it.
Then rested his enormous head against the mattress.
Jackson laughed softly.
“Apparently, we're friends.”
Wyatt smiled.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Jackson looked at the boy.
“They told me you found me.”
Wyatt shook his head.
“Titan did.”
Jackson nodded.
“Then you both saved my life.”
Wyatt looked down.
“I was scared.”
Jackson studied him.
“Of what?”
“The woods. The snow. Getting lost.”
Jackson paused.
“Then why did you keep going?”
Wyatt swallowed.
“Because you were there.”
The answer was so simple that Jackson didn't know what to say.
Harold stood near the doorway.
He watched the man everyone in the hospital seemed nervous around.
Then looked at his grandson.
Wyatt stepped closer.
“Are you going to be okay?”
Jackson smiled faintly.
“I think so.”
Wyatt nodded.
“Good.”
Then he reached into his coat pocket.
Pulled out a small object.
A smooth gray stone.
He placed it on the bedside table.
Jackson stared.
“What's that?”
“A lucky rock.”
Jackson looked at him.
Wyatt continued.
“My mom gave it to me before she got sick.”
Harold's expression changed.
“Wyatt—”
The boy shook his head.
“It's okay.”
He looked at Jackson.
“She said when I was scared, I could hold it and remember that I was brave.”
Jackson stared at the stone.
“You want me to have it?”
Wyatt nodded.
“Until you're not scared anymore.”
The room fell silent.
Jackson looked at Harold.
Then at Wyatt.
For years, men had brought him expensive watches, rare whiskey, and envelopes filled with cash.
Nobody had ever given him something this valuable.
He reached for the stone.
His hand trembled slightly.
“Thank you, Wyatt.”
The boy smiled.
After they left, Reed approached the bed.
“You want me to arrange something for the family?”
Jackson looked at him.
“What kind of something?”
“Money. A new house. Whatever they need.”
Jackson stared at the stone.
Then shook his head.
“Not yet.”
Reed frowned.
“Why?”
Jackson looked toward the door.
“Because I don't want the first thing that boy learns about me to be that I think everything can be bought.”
Reed said nothing.
May you like
He had known Jackson Kesler for fifteen years.
And he'd never heard him speak like that.
