All Chapters of Saving the Wilsons: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

COLT POV (8 DAYS LATER) "Heath, little man....you need your jacket. Don't you wanna go see Auntie Janelle," I ask with a slight plea in my voice. Wrangling a toddler is as hard as they say it is. I swear I have lost ten pounds chasing this kid around this past week, but honestly, it has been a great distraction. He is like a beacon of happiness in a sea of sorrow for Janelle and me. He is constantly laughing and smiling while we both try to hold ourselves together. Elaine's condition has done nothing but deteriorate, and Janelle has done nothing but cry. It is absolute torture to watch her go through this. The only thing I can do is hope and pray for a miracle. But watching the woman I love hurting..... kills me. Women crying, in general, has always affected me...but when it's Janelle. It feels like my major organs are shriveling. Every night when I tuck Heath in, I teach him to pray. We pray for his grandma, we pray for his aunt,

JANELLE POV pg 13Watching the man, you love care for a child should be illegal. My ovaries are literally swelling while watching Colt carry Heath around on his hip like he was born to sit there. Their beautiful new bond has my heart melting........but it should be illegal because I am at my mom's funeral. I am speaking with her friends and distant relatives, but my focus is on the two boys in my life. It's as if God is shining a light on them. Forcing me to focus on them instead of the grief I should be feeling. However, I do feel much better after last night. Colt only stopped me long enough to eat last night. The rest of the time, I painted. I poured my soul out for nine hours straight. I feel more alive than I have in three months. "I'm so sorry for your loses, Janelle," my mom's ex-co-worker says as she engulfs me in a hug. I hug her back after tearing my eyes off of Colt and smile. He knew exactly what I needed. He knew that painti

IAN'S POV  Sweat is pouring down my back, my legs are aching, and my lungs are screaming for oxygen, but I keep pushing. The defeated grunt that faintly sounds from behind me makes a large smirk form on my face. He gave up, but I won't. I never do. My feet become lighter, and I cross the goal line with a smile plastered on my face.   Seconds after scoring, my team is on me yelling, cheering, and hitting my pads like a swarm of apes, but I love it. I love this, the stardom, the attention......it fills a small hole that I have always had.   "Hell yes, Wilson," my coach screams as soon as I reach our sideline.     He gives me a high five, and I head for the bench. My lungs are still recovering, but my work for the night is done. There are only 11 seconds left on the board, and I just put us six points ahead. This game should be in the bag. **************     "Gun it," Ray screams

CHLOE POV"So how was his first session," Susan asks as we wipe down the equipment we used today. "Frustrating. He has all the signs of depression and survivor's guilt. He is like I was when I got hurt.......angry, scared, and full of regret. Plus, he still views himself as a fit athlete. He wants to push his body like he is used to doing," I answer as I think about my new patient. "He's cute.....," Susan says, and a blush hits my face. That is the one thing that distracted me throughout our entire session. Ian Wilson is a living, breathing dream guy. I want to run my pale fingers through his chocolate hair so bad. And even when he is glaring, it's hard to look away from his hazel eyes. "He is a very good-looking man," I answer, and Susan smirks. "Good looking......good enough to end your no dating ever rule," Susan asks, and I laugh. I shake my head, and she walks to the other side of the padded be

CHLOE POV (one week later) "So, did you ever speak to your friends' families," I ask as Ian stares down at his ankle for focus? "I wrote them both a letter while I was in the hospital. I told them every detail I could remember of the entire night, and then I told them how sorry I am. I don't know if they read them. Caleb's dad isn't........well he isn't a very good guy. Real quick to anger....it was probably a good thing I couldn't attend their funerals," he answers bitterly before giving up on his exercise and leaning his head back. "Well, I'm sure they appreciated the thought. Even if they are angry. You probably answered all their questions by going into detail," I state as I grab his foot to reposition him. Ian locks his eyes to mine, and irritation flashes in their depths. I brace myself expectantly. Ian has not been shy with his words through any of our sessions. In fact, the more comfortable he gets around me, the harsher hi