The Last Time I Cried Your Name novel Chapter 394

By the time Franco made it to the hospital, the morning sun was already up. The dew had soaked into the ends of his hair. He looked calm as always, but his steps were quicker than usual.

Across the parking lot, a van had just pulled up. Hans and Petty climbed out. The moment Hans spotted Franco, he shifted his body, quietly blocking Petty's line of sight. He kept his gaze on Franco, watching him head through the hospital lobby doors.

What was Franco doing at the hospital so early?

“Come on, the magazine shoot’s at ten-thirty, remember?” Petty nudged Hans.

She was with him for his follow-up on an old injury. Hans’s assistant had gone home for some family emergency, so today, Petty was stepping in. Later, Hans’s manager would meet them at the shoot.

Hans eyed her. “Getting into character as my assistant already?”

“You bet. You’d better pay me for the day,” she shot back.

Hans’s smile was lazy. “Fine. You can take all of today’s appearance fee.”

Usually, celebrities didn’t get paid for magazine shoots. But Hans was a superstar, and this one was to promote a brand he endorsed, so the brand threw in a hefty fee. Not that Hans cared about the money. It was just that his fans had been begging for months, complaining they couldn’t find his face in any new magazines.

“What would I even do with that much money?” Petty said as they stepped into the elevator together.

Hans glanced away, automatically holding the door open for her. He tapped the floor number. “What can I say? I’ve got more money than I know what to do with.”

Just before the doors slid shut, he flicked his gaze to his bodyguard, a quick signal that said follow Franco.

The little guy was curled up in deep sleep, clutching a white shirt to his chest. His thin legs dangled over the fabric, his chubby cheek pressed against it. Franco sat beside him, reaching out through the sterile suit to gently stroke his fluffy hair. It was so soft, just like Petty’s.

Scout rolled over in his sleep, and Franco pulled the shirt over his little belly, making sure he was warm.

“Any sign of a reaction?” he asked quietly.

The doctor shook his head. “Everything’s fine, Franco. No problems at all.”

Close to noon, Scout finally woke up. He blinked, big eyes round and confused, and spotted the man in the protective suit by his bed. Slowly, he tried to roll over, struggling, his little body still weak. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t quite manage it.

Franco’s hand tightened where it rested on the mattress. His knuckles strained against the sleeve of his suit, but he didn’t move to help.