Life was so unfair sometimes. Blake deserved better than what she’d gotten on many accounts. Wasn’t one traumatic pregnancy enough? From what I’d gathered from Gracie and Chris, though this one had gone well, she didn’t enjoy the same support system that I had during mine. That was my fault. And now that it was ending so horribly, when I wasn’t even sure if there’d be the chance to make amends for what I’d put into motion, I hated myself so much more for it.
With Sadie on my hip, I rushed around our house getting everything together in her diaper bag. It was always stocked with most of the essentials, but I packed in more, unsure of how long her visit with Regina would end up lasting. I despised casting my responsibilities off on someone else, but my former neighbor had insisted that she’d watch Sadie as long as I needed her to. And in a way, this whole mess with Blake was my task to fix.
I was helpless as far as the medical aspects of things were concerned, but I could work with everything else. It sounded like Gracie was handling Chris, but I could be there for Matthew. I’d sent him into a landmine of a problem without even telling him what was wrong. When he found out the extent of the situation, he’d be completely shattered. And even if he kept up a stoic appearance in the face of adversity, I could be there to help out Arlene with the baby.
And if the stars aligned just right, when Blake came out of this unscathed, I could begin to piece together the remains of her fractured relationship with her brother.
We made it out the door in record time. Matthew had taken the Mustang, and had probably broken several traffic laws during the short trip to the hospital. Even as quickly as I’d gotten around, by this point in time, he’d arrived and was probably now getting clued in on what was going on. My heart ached for him as I wished I could be there for moral support, even if we both knew I was doing what I had to do.
Having learned my lesson about speeding long ago, and especially since Sadie was in the car with me, I kept right at the posted limit as I made my way to Regina’s. What was typically a short excursion seemed to take an inordinate amount of time, even without me getting stuck by a train. I breathed a sigh of relief as the entrance to my former housing addition loomed up ahead.
Will’s police car was parked out front of Gracie’s, which was odd. I scowled at the cruiser as I passed it, pulling in to Regina’s driveway. The two of us weren’t exactly friends. Then again, Gracie held that car in contempt almost as much as I did. Even being a take home car, Will opted not to drive it much when he was off-duty, so its presence at her house was unsettling. Perhaps he’d come over right after work and they’d left for the hospital together?
“I’m pretty sure they’re living together,” Regina confirmed when she opened the door, noting where my attention lingered. “He parks the Jeep in the garage now.”
I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh, really?”
“Yeah, but we’ll talk about it later once everything calms down.”
I nodded, instantly sobering. Regina stuck her hands out to take Sadie from me, and my daughter went to her eagerly. For all she knew, I was headed off to work. I stepped in the house long enough to set the diaper bag down and give Sadie a goodbye kiss, then I was off again.
This time, I wasn’t afraid to step on the gas a bit. I hated relying too much on the radar detector I now had mounted to my dashboard, but if any situation warranted a lead foot, maybe this was it. And being a Saturday morning, there still wasn’t a lot of traffic on the road.
As much as I wanted to be at the hospital with everyone else, as I turned into the campus I felt an unmistakable sense of dread, an unease in my stomach that tempted me to turn around and go back home. I wanted more than anything to pretend that the things happening on the other side of those massive walls weren’t going on. But they were. So I parked my car in the visitor’s section of the lot, next to the Mustang and the Jeep. A show of solidarity, even in a place where it didn’t matter.
After having given birth here myself not that long ago, I didn’t need directions to get to where I was headed. I flashed the security guard stationed at the doorway a smile and kept moving forward. He lifted his chin in acknowledgement but didn’t engage any further. There was enough purpose in my stride that it didn’t invite pleasantries, and given his job, he was probably used to it anyway. It’s not like he worked at a coffee shop or something.
My steps slowed as I neared the waiting room area. It made no sense to go in guns blazing when I was clueless as to what I’d find. And there was nothing but utter silence around me, so I couldn’t gauge the situation that way, either. So I took a deep breath and steeled myself before coming around the corner.
Chris was the first thing that I saw. In the center of it all, as he should be. Surprisingly - or maybe not - he was wrapped in Gracie’s arms. Their hands were intertwined, and her cheek rested against the top of his head. Her lips were moving, though I couldn’t hear what she was saying. His eyes were closed, but I seriously doubted that he was asleep.
Matthew sat on Chris’s other side, his expression grim. His attention was focused on the floor in front of him, so he hadn’t noticed me yet. Will sat next to Gracie, looking resigned to the fact that his girlfriend was very hands-on in comforting another man. His hand rested possessively on Gracie’s leg, lest anyone forget his role.
Arlene and Gary stood across from the group, Chris’s mom wound tightly with nervous energy. Her husband always struck me as the strong, silent type and this was no different. The worry on his wife’s face was evident, not only for her son’s well-being, but also for Blake’s. Gary had a firm hold around her waist, likely supporting her more than she let on.
I cleared my throat, announcing my late arrival to the worst kind of party possible. Matthew looked up, staring blankly at me. I made my way over to them. As I did so, I noted Gracie’s patented “I have to pee” face, a look I’d grown accustomed to during our younger years of bar hopping with the old bank crew.
Once I stood before them, I questioned her with my gaze on why she hadn’t taken care of business already. It wasn’t like she’d be leaving Chris alone. She shook her head and tightened her grip on Chris’s hand further. Her knuckles were already white, but that seemed to be the least of her worries right now.
Matthew made a move to scoot over to allow me to sit down, but I shook my head. I lowered myself to the floor between him and Chris, giving my brother-in-law the bulk of my attention. Matthew understood, and placed his hand on my shoulder as I rested my head against Chris’s leg. I reached for Chris, and was rewarded with his free hand finding its way into mine.
“Has there been any word yet?” I asked the room in general.
“Not yet,” Matthew answered. “I’d think that we’d hear something soon, though. She’s been in surgery for a while now.”
“We all live pretty close though, so I’m sure that makes it seem longer,” I mused quietly.
Chris squeezed my hand. I returned the favor, wishing there was something I could do, anything I could say to make things better. Though the drama in our lives had actually brought the two of us closer, we still weren’t the best of friends. None of that seemed to matter now.
“Thank you for coming, Lauren,” Chris rasped.
It struck me that he had been crying, and my eyes filled with moisture as well. He sounded absolutely defeated, and I wasn’t sure how to counter that.
“I got here as soon as I could,” I said quietly. “You’ll quickly find out that traveling anywhere with a little one is a massive undertaking.”
Something that resembled a chuckle erupted from him, though I wasn’t about to give myself any credit for making him feel better. At this point, that was an impossible goal. And I felt like I was babbling, so I shut up.
Our small group huddled together like outcasts as the hustle and bustle of other families’ joy echoed through the waiting room. Weights, lengths and names of newborns were announced by a couple different proud fathers while we sat and waited. Their happy energy di
d nothing to rub off on us. Wisely, no strangers engaged us in idle chatter about the newest addition to our family. As if encased in an invisible bubble of sadness, we were left alone.
It seemed sort of morbid that we were lumped in with the normal maternity ward, even though Dylan’s birth was still a cause for celebration. But all of that had been placed on an indefinite hold while we waited for word on his mother. It wasn’t exactly the birth plan they’d likely discussed in the weeks leading up to their appearance at the hospital, but it occurred to me that Dylan shouldn’t suffer because of the crisis Blake was enduring.
Blake would be pissed if she knew what was going on.
With a squeeze to his hand, I did my best to draw Chris out of his fog. Figuring I had his attention, I found my voice. “I want to see Dylan.”
“He’s in the nursery. The nurses will probably move him up to the window if you ask them to, but it’s not like they’ll let you hold him.”
“I know. I remember the security protocol from when I had Sadie. I understand.”
“I just can’t be with him right now. Not when I’m waiting for news about Blake. If it was a normal birth, we’d all be in her room right now, taking pictures and talking.”
“No we wouldn’t. If it was a normal birth, Matthew and I wouldn’t be here right now.”
He sighed, confirming that fact. All of us present knew it, so it didn’t make me as much as an ass for saying it as I felt I was. But the stress of the situation made it come right out.
“We’ll make it right. Somehow we will,” I promised.
“If Blake comes out of this.”
“When,” Gracie piped up. “When Blake comes out of this.”
“Gracie’s right,” I agreed. “When Blake gets better, we’ll straighten all of this out. You’ll see. But right now, you’ve got a little boy who needs to know that he’s not alone either. And that’s what I’m going to make sure of. Blake can be mad at me all that she wants, but she’ll get over it. Arlene, do you want to go with me?”
Chris’s mom snapped to attention from her own reverie. Emboldened by the opportunity to actually do something about the situation we were all in, she moved away from Gary and prepared to accompany me. “Sure thing. Let’s go.”
I made a move to stand, but before I could, Chris pushed me back down. In a split second, the whole atmosphere in the waiting room changed. Confused, I turned around to see what had made him and everyone else spring to life.
In the doorway stood a doctor in scrubs - fortunately neatly pressed and immaculately kept - and he was heading right for us. He must have been at least professionally acquainted with Chris, for he addressed him by his first name as he approached.
Chris held tight to the hand of mine in his possession, while I threaded my other one through Matthew’s. I saw Gracie do the same with Chris and Will.
As I waited for the doctor to speak, I mouthed a silent prayer that his prognosis for Blake would match my promises.
Chapter Thirty
Blake
Someone was holding my hand.
Through the haze of massive blood loss and some really good painkillers, it surprised me that I was able to focus on that simple thing. That fact became my world as I contemplated if it was yet another hospital employee tending to my IV or drawing more blood - which seemed horribly counterproductive - or if it was actually someone I wanted to be touching me sitting beside me. Either way, it didn’t really matter because I was powerless to stop it.
But the touch persisted, and the more I concentrated, the more I realized it wasn’t utilitarian in nature. The hand was distinctly male, and I could feel the smoothness of a wedding band pressed into my skin. His thumb traced circles against my palm. It felt so good, so comforting, that I would have leaned into it if possible.
His message was clear: I love you and I will never, ever, leave your side.
There were only two men in the entire world who would have been able to communicate with me so clearly without using words. Chris, who was obviously with me, and Matthew, who was not. I’d made damn sure of that so very long ago. My brother and I might as well be strangers now, and even with a lifetime of apologies, we might never get back to having even half the bond we had before shit had hit the fan.
My pulse rate kicked up a notch, and his hand squeezed mine, the thumb drawing more insistent circles. I heard the rumble of a voice, but couldn’t make out the words. I didn’t know if they were directed at me or if there was someone else in the room with us. But my instructions from him were crystal clear: calm down.
I was trying.
So instead of thinking about things I couldn’t change, I took a physical inventory. It was crazy how hyper aware I was of my body, yet I didn’t have enough control of it to open my eyes. My other hand was resting against the cool, scratchy low thread count sheet of my hospital bed, its index finger pinched between the hard plastic sensor measuring my oxygen levels. A blood pressure cuff tightened in regular intervals around my arm. A tube fed into my nose, the hiss of oxygen rushing through it white noise to someone waking up from the inside out. Though I could feel the leads of a heart monitor tethered to me, there was no incessant beeping. Had I been able to smirk, I would have. Chris had either convinced the nurses to turn the sound down, or he had done it himself.
It wasn’t like he wasn’t watching the monitoring equipment like a hawk anyway. I wondered if he could tell that I was on the verge of waking up from his interpretation of the screens that were sure to be located to the side of my bed. I hoped that the readouts did what I hadn’t been able to do. I prayed that they had reassured him that I was going to pull through this, that I hadn’t felt any pain to speak of, and that everything would be okay.
I’d never wanted him to see me like this. Fragile, life hanging in the balance for a few scary moments. It’s why I hadn’t been open with him about the miscarriage the day he’d walked in on me while it was happening. I didn’t want his pity, couldn’t stomach his worry. But it had been evident on his face in those frantic moments after our son had been born.
For better or for worse, there had been no protecting him from that scene. And I doubted he had closed his eyes since. God only knew how long ago that had been. While I had been blissfully out of it, he’d been wide awake, traipsing through a field of unknown outcomes, each one worse than the last.
I knew him, and I knew this to be true. For that, I was sorry. So sorry to have ruined his opinion of me as the one that always had it together, the one that triumphed in the face of adversity. I let my guard down for one single second, and the charade had been forever broken.
I was just as human as anybody else, and now he knew that for a fact.
And when I failed at life, I did it big.
I’d been so hard headed, so convinced that I was in the right that my convictions had blinded me to the hurt that I’d left in my wake. Even if Matthew had been one hundred percent wrong, my cutting ties with him didn’t just affect the two of us. It unraveled the entire fabric of the tight knit group we’d formed around us, starting with Chris, who was more connected to us than anyone else. The tension trickled outwards from there to Gracie, who had to straddle being my business partner and one of my closest friends while still being there for Lauren. And then there was Lauren, once my number one sounding board, who I’d kicked to the curb like she was nothing but window dressing, not my brother’s wife.
I’d made such a mess of things, and had put off even thinking about how to correct what I’d put into motion until it had nearly been too late. Procrastination was a friend of mine, the easy way out. Much simpler to think that I could take care of things later, citing my pregnancy as a reason to delay what should have been done weeks, if not days, after the confrontation and the wall punching incident.
If I had ended up dying - well, I didn’t want to think about that.
A hot tear escaped from my closed eyelid. It didn’t get very far, whisked away by the fingers of Chris’s other hand eve
n as he tightened the grip on the one of mine that he held.
More voices and then something weird happened.
My other hand was lifted from the bed and clutched like his life depended on it. Now both of my hands were being held, which was logistically impossible unless Chris had hopped up on the bed to mount me. I seriously doubted that had occurred, plus I figured no matter how out of it I still was, I would have noticed if it had.
But none of that really made a difference if I wasn’t able to change anything. I had to return to the real world in order to fix things. That meant opening my eyes for starters, even if they didn’t want to cooperate yet. It required me to ask for help. I needed Chris to be my go-between, to beg Matthew to grant me an audience. I had to talk to my brother, the sooner the better.
As much as I’d found a huge missing part of myself when I’d gotten back together with Chris, there was something else that had vanished when I’d demanded that Matthew leave. And no one except for him would ever be able to fill that void.
Chris might argue that I was too weak to engage in another round of family drama, but I just had to wake up and convince him that I was done arguing. I wanted nothing more than to put the past behind us - once and for all - and continue life as it should be, with Matthew in it. With him and me and Chris and Lauren and our collective children together.
I needed to tell him I was sorry. I needed to beg him for forgiveness. I needed to do it now. I didn’t give a fuck if it was three in the morning; I needed for Chris to call him and persuade him to come to my bedside.
The Matthew I had left behind last year would have leapt out of bed in a heartbeat and rushed over to the hospital at my beck and call. I hoped that hadn’t changed.
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